TIME was when you thought of boxing competitions in the Southeast Asian (SEA) Games you quickly thought of mismatches in favor of our colorful and seasoned simonpures against their unheralded foes in the ring.
In fact, sportswriters covering the beat developed the habit of jotting down prefab stories before the fight, just waiting for the final outcome to fill in the blanks, whether it was a lopsided win or a knockout.
And the ho-hum reasons that explained Team Philippines’s never-ending sad stories in past SEA Games since 2005 added to the gray picture of our boxers’ chances in spite of the tinsels and efforts to spruce them up.
Boxing has always been, or so it would seem, a veritable gold mine. But taking the cynical view of Executive Director Ed Picson of the Association of Boxing Alliances of the Philippines (Abap), a fair hope is an understatement.
“We will do our best, but winning a medal is a totally different thing,” Picson told the recent Philippine Sportswriters Association Forum of Abap’s annoying spiel of no more gold-medal forecast this time.
In the renaissance era of Gintong Alay in the 1980s, our pugilists always brought home the bacon. Nelson Jamili, Efren Tabanas, Leopoldo Cantancio and Ruben Mares were simply a class above the rest in the region.
Forecasts were then made fearless as in the six-of-10 golds in the 1981 Manila SEA Games, and a pair of eight golds each in the 1991 and 2005 editions of the biennial meet the country had successfully hosted in succession.
Tabanas, Cantancio and Mares, who fought in the flyweight, bantamweight and featherweight classes, were pretty good performers, though not nearly in the cast of legends that would have kindled wild imaginations.
But they were our picture-perfect type of fighting men who had tremendous courage and determination, and unlimited speed, stamina and aggressiveness, their fights often regaled as colorful and exciting.
I remember the picturesque training camp of our Filipino boxers at the Gintong Alay camp in Baguio City, and the drudgery of training—lifting weights, climbing hills, shadow boxing and sparring real hard for hours.
They were not the merry and carefree type, but serious preparations of body and mind in a high-altitude training camp under the tight noses of Cuban coaches hired to transform the Filipinos into fearsome fighters.
I remember, too, their fights that brought three of them to that ultimate sporting challenge of the Olympics in Seoul (1988), Barcelona (1992) and Atlanta (1996), where light-flyweight Mansueto “Onyok” Velasco clinched a silver medal.
Velasco was workmanlike and efficient, and carefully studied every opponent. But his ferocity and quick hands, his dark hair and flashing teeth and eyes included, yielded to the foul tactics of Daniel Petrov of Bulgaria.
Boxing experts averred that Petrov’s win was the handiwork of a “boxing Mafia” in the International Boxing Association. And Velasco’s ecstatic countrymen honored him like a true champion in a blizzard of torn ticker tapes confetti.
After all, Onyok’s silver-medal campaign shattered a 32-year-long drought since Anthony Villanueva won the first silver medal in the Tokyo Olympics in 1964, in another similarly controversy-laden championship showdown.
Light-flyweight Leopoldo Serrantes almost missed the flight to the Seoul Games as last-minute entry. But the tough, vicious and unspoiled Pol, as he was called, saved his country from certain humiliation with a bronze medal.
Serrantes beat Mahjoub Mijirich of Morroco for the bronze and, four years later in Barcelona, Roel Velasco defeated Rowan Williams of England to claim the country’s third bronze, the first by Jose Villanueva in Los Angeles in 1932.
Now, I find myself suddenly thinking of the late Francisco Almeda, secretary-general of the Philippine Olympic Committee, who was smart, dapper and groomed and would coax his baritone voice with a no-holds-barred prediction.
“It’s eight gold medals or nothing,” barked the “Gov,” as he was fondly addressed, from the corner of his mouth that was always exhibiting a burning cigarette. Queer or weird, but he was always perfectly right.
But times are changing, fast. The customary three rounds are now four rounds, head gears are locked in the closets and the Sweet Science leveled up with a vague hint of burlesque upon the entry of women pugilists.
If not for our muscles molls, however, boxing would have been limited only to a pair of golds in Myanmar. But Josie Gabuco, who banners the Philippine squad along with Mario Fernandez, added the third gold in the women’s division.
Gabuco will be joined this time by Irish Magno, Nesthy Petecio and Riza Pasuit, who have made good copy, bearing glamour and pain of discomfort better and demonstrating true courage and indomitable will.
The cost of the country’s participation in Singapore is a staggering P39 million to underwrite the expenses of a 451-member delegation. But the quest for a higher output of Burma’s 29 golds is, to say the least, unjustifiable.
A total of 402 gold medals in 36 sports will be at stake in the June 5 to 16, 11-nation competitions. This early, the only silver lining in the otherwise gloomy horizon appears to be the stint of Fil-foreign bets in other events.
But for our homegrown boxers, the Thais stand as the only obstacles to vindication. With proper seasoning and unconditional support by businessman Manny V. Pangilinan, victory in this sanctioned violence is a foregone conclusion.
Our friend Ed Picson might have gaffed in refusing to predict our gold-medal chances. Perhaps, time has already impaired his exciting talents. But the fact is our boxers are our brightest hope too, the pretty molls included.