james.soriano

PUBLISHED: Student & Campus Section, Manila Bulletin, 6 May 2009 Issue (Page E-2)

Unlike everyone else, “The Battle of the East and West” was not the big thing that I was looking forward to this weekend. In fact, I was never truly excited for this fight—I was simply not caught up in the hype surrounding the latest and biggest fight in Pacquiao’s already-storied life and career.

But I did want to find out about Wolverine’s.

I had been looking forward to “X-Men Origins: Wolverine” since I saw the trailer back in February. While I have never touched a comic book of the vaunted X-Men series, I was one of those kids who grew up watching the cartoon series and buying the merchandise. And just like everyone else, I absolutely idolized Wolverine, the epitome of the dark, complex, and anti-social anti-hero. Of course, I didn’t realize that then. I just thought he was cool.

And everyone who has been a fan of Wolverine (or Hugh Jackman) probably looked forward to the film as much as I did, with just as much hoopla as the one surrounding the Pacquiao-Hatton match.

Considering how this movie was hyped to the hills, for critics the movie was a bit of a letdown—a feature it would share with the Pacquiao-Hatton bout, as I will demonstrate later.

But despite the amount of criticism that this movie has generated, I took the film for what it was: an action-driven popcorn blockbuster bound to take the box office solely by its popularity—and I liked it.

The plot was serviceable, even nice. The characters, while lacking in development, were interesting enough representations of the comic book versions they were supposed to imitate. It helped that the cast featured a combination of pop favorites and genuinely great acts such as Hugh Jackman, Ryan Reynolds, Liev Schreiber, and Daniel Henney. Among other things, the special effects also fulfilled Marvel-film expectations.

But its strength undoubtedly lay in the action scenes, which to my mind would be the same big reason behind wanting to watch a boxing match. This is where, strangely, watching a fictional fistfight between mutants would trump an actual fistfight between legendary fistfighters.

As a whole, the film may not have been as spectacular as Pacquiao’s two-round TKO of Ricky Hatton, but at least it provided more than five minutes of heart-stopping action with no commercial breaks.

Still, a comparison of a boxing match and an action movie in terms of entertainment value inevitably leads me to a comparison between the characters—or people, if you will—that are behind it. In this case, it is a comparison between Wolverine and Pacman. On one corner stands one of the most powerful and interesting mutants in the comic realm, and on the other is arguably the best pound-for-pound fighter in the boxing world.

Both are reflections of our human fascination with the idea of hero or legend: someone who is larger than life. Whether we tie our emotions and nationalist ideals to a boxer beating up a competitor in a prize ring, or find ourselves fascinated with the exploits of genetically-enhanced superheroes, this fascination is a reflection of our spirits’ greatest hopes and fears. Heroes and legends remind us that despite our inherent flaws and disadvantages, it is still possible for us to surmount insurmountable obstacles and reach our personal Mount Olympus.

So it isn’t so surprising that Pacquiao’s bouts are always the object of national obssession, or that we prematurely brand him as a national hero. Or that we find ourselves wanting to watch the next leg in the never-ending saga of superhero retellings, whether we grew up watching these superheroes or not. The point is still that in the midst of demoralizing life in an even more demoralizing world, these stories, factual or fictional, give us something to look forward to.

With Pacman and Wolverine, their stories resonate all the more for their being blue-collar: they were simply people who took what they were given and worked hard to perfect it, with or without recognition. In other words, “trabaho lang.”

It’s not such an absurd comparison, if you think about it: whether you looked forward to the movie or the match, we were all just looking for a little bit of hope.

PUBLISHED: Student & Campus Section, Manila Bulletin, 10 December 2008 Issue (Page G-3)

Although I honestly expected (and wanted) The Golden Boy to win in his bout with Manny Pacquiao, I was as proud as anyone else to be a Filipino when Pacman handed him a decisive beating in eight rounds.

To find myself feeling this way was quite strange, to say the least. After all, I’ve been a ‘Pacquiao hater’ since he ceased becoming an underdog, and I honestly believe that people just put him on too high a pedestal. While he deserves recognition for what he does, I certainly do not believe that he is an adequate role model, much more worthy of the label ‘national hero’.

But during those moments of elation, I was very much able to put aside all of that. How couldn’t I? He had just dominated one of the ring’s most indomitable figures; what he had accomplished was the stuff of boxing legend. He had made history, and no matter which way I looked at it, I thought that was something our nation can truly be proud of. It was a large dose of inspiration, something that perhaps everyone needed in these times of desperation. I know I certainly did.

That’s what Manny Pacquiao is: a gigantic and addictive dose of inspiration. His life story in itself is inspirational. He was the poor peasant boy, the ultimate underdog who would beat all the odds, and upon whom Fortune would eventually smile upon. His represents the happily-ever-after of Juan de la Cruz’s story. In other words, he gives hope. He unifies us in our identity as Filipinos. It is in this way, I guess, that he is deserving of praise.

But while much has been said about the man of the hour, I feel that not enough has been said about the man who was behind his greatness.

That is why I want to talk about Freddie Roach, his trainer.

Freddie Roach comes from a rather mundane background. His career as a professional boxer was relatively unremarkable, save for the fact that he was on the losing end of most of his high-profile bouts. His fighting style was focused on being durable enough to outlast his opponents, and this eventually took a toll on his body. Due to the injuries he sustained throughout his boxing career, he currently suffers from Parkinson’s disease.

After he retired, he opened up his own boxing club in Los Angeles and became a full-time trainer. As Fate would have it, this is where he would eventually gain some measure of fame. He was thrice voted as Trainer of the Year, and among boxers he is one of the most popular trainers around. He has worked with figures such as Mike Tyson, Bernard Hopkins, and even Oscar de la Hoya himself, but on no other boxer has he had a more profound impact than on Manny Pacquiao.

This impact exceeds his influence on Pacman as a fighter. To Manny, Roach is more than just a mentor in boxing. “He is a friend, almost a father figure, and I listen to Freddie, whatever he tells me. He teaches me not just about boxing but about life. I am fortunate to have Freddie Roach in my life,” he stated in an article on ESPN.com published three days prior to his fight. It is worth mentioning here that Pacquiao did not have a father figure growing up.

It is perhaps a flaw of humanity that we never pay enough attention to the people behind the scenes, our eyes simply too focused on the man in the spotlight. For I believe it is doing this kind of good that is just as worthy, if not more so, of being written about and remembered. Freddie Roach is no hero, but he certainly deserves more credit for being the influence that he was to Manny Pacquiao, both as a fighter and as a person. And I think his story is something we can all draw inspiration from as well.

Nobody ever makes it entirely alone. Hercules would not have been Hercules if he didn’t have Phil. Even legends had their mentors.

To be that kind of a mentor; I think that is truly the stuff of legend.