Oh Manny you bad, bad man.
That’s all I can utter as the alcohol muddled me up, giving me beer goggles and giving my mouth its own brain. It’s sunny and very hot, I’m getting a little incoherent and Manny Pacquiao is the baddest man alive.
5:30 AM (Philippine time)
Woke up to my alarm, only to find that I’m the late riser, my two roommates are already up and raring to go. Roel to see the fight, Alfred to see (and eat) the food.
After showering and dressing, we hurriedly made our way to The Royal Concourse (in Cebu City) to witness the fight between Pac and Hit. It’s All-You-Can-Eat (I just hate it when I see and hear Eat-All-You-Can) for Php298 and there are two huge PPV screens to enjoy all the slugging. We attempted to make reservations but were told to come at 7am since it’s on a First-Come-First-Served basis. We expected to be among the first customers when we arrived at 6:45am, and imagine our dismay when we saw that the place was almost full.
Our dismay turned to grief when we were informed that the All-You-Can-Eat buffet will start at 10:30am. If we wanted breakfast we have to pay for it. For guys who ate a very light dinner and no breakfast whatsoever (to build up our appetites to frenetic paces), this was a killer. We carefully reduced our food intakes so we could pig out on this particular day, and having to wait almost 4 hours more when our hunger was at maximum seemed a pretty cruel joke. We weren’t laughing, as you’d expect.
Watched the undercards. Some pretty good fights and some bad ones. Did not enjoy Matt Hatton’s fight as some guys were commenting while the fight was going on in the background. Viewed some Mexican, British, Filipino and Italian guys reporting on the megafight while the battle raged on in the background.
Food was served and the place turned into a horror story full of mayhem and riot. More than a thousand people filled up the cavernous restaurant by this time, and there’s no way food can be served in an orderly fashion as most of the customers are Filipinos and Filipinos just have no manners when it comes to making a proper line. Shouts and ugly remarks and growls and fights erupted. All in the name of food. Did not properly see the boxing action, but saw all the animals fighting for food in front of me. Managed to grab some food and made my way back to my table just as Manny and Ricky were about to start their fight.
around 11:00 AM (I forgot exactly when)
Hatton is introduced first, which is strange since he IS the champion and Manny’s the challenger. Martin Nievera sang an interesting Philippine Anthem. Tom Jones (The Tom Jones!) sang God Save the Queen. It should have been God Save Ricky Hatton. And then something that totally made my day happened: the girl who sang the Star Spangled Banner at the Pacquiao-Diaz fight sang the American Anthem this time too. I remember she was a very beatiful and cute girl at a tender age of 15 (I think), but she had a body to die for (at least on TV), a face everyone would love, and I just had the hots for her. Her voice was sultry and low and I felt really really hot listening to that. Seems like an obsession is welling up inside of me.
I noticed that she pronounces rockets “rockits”. She said “rockits” in her last two Star Spangled Banners. But I still love her all the same. Adriana Lima, you’re out. Hello Jasmine Villegas.
around 11:15 AM
Manny was tremendous. Manny and Hatton both came out smoking but Manny later knocked Hatton down to his kness with a swift right hook that caught Hatton’s chin. Slow motion capture showed Manny swinging and Hatton just standing there. Manny is just too quick and too fast. Hatton’s strength is useless when he can’t even see where the punches are coming from.
Manny knocked Hatton a second time. The place is pure pandemonium. People are shouting and cheering and I noticed that I was already standing on my seat with both arms raised, my hand clenched into fists. My voice was really hoarse from all the shouting without me even noticing it. Round 2 was the best ever. One big left hook to the chin and out goes Hatton. I pity the 25,000 Brits who came to Vegas only to see that ugly sight. We were shouting so much that it seemed the building was shaking.
Roel, Alfred, Bradley and I are enjoying about four big bottles of beer to celebrate Many’s domination of the boxing world. It’s noon, the sun’s hot and brutal, and there we were in a roadside table drinking Red Horse. Life is Good. And Manny is a bad, bad man.