Boxing – at least, Sunday’s Dream Match turned mismatch – was for a while an unthinking spectator sport at SM City Pampanga’s Cinema 5 where Pacquiao’s crack at immortality was beamed live from Las Vegas.
The anticipation for the main event was rising to a crescendo, boosted by the smashing knockout of Argentina’s Sergio Medina by Juan Manuel Lopez in less than two minutes of the first round, when onscreen flashed a replay of a previous ho-hum bout. Shouts and cat-calls nearly blew the roof off Cinema 5.
“SM manloloko. Hindi live ang laban dito! (SM fooled us. The match is not live here!)”
“Ibalik niyo ang pera namin! (Give us a refund!)”
“Nabudul-budol tayo ng SM! (We were robbed by SM!)”
Pandemonium nearly broke loose with a sudden rush out of the cinema to the ticket booth where a horrified teller bore the brunt of a verbal diarrhea from a ranting, raving, raging horde.
The presence of a team of policemen who also came to watch prevented what could have been an ugly incident at SM. Yeah, to the nth degree uglier than the bahag (g-string) incident at SM City Clark that rained a torrent of denunciation from the indigenous peoples.
So the police contained the crowd. But they could hardly pacify it.
“Tapos na ang laban sa Las Vegas. (The fight is over in Las Vegas.)”
Asked a cop: “Paano mo nalaman? (How did you know?)”
“Nag-text sa akin ang pinsan ko. (A cousin sent me a text message.)”
“Sino ang panalo? (Who won?)”
No answer there.
Then came from another: “Panalo na si De La Hoya, sa second round lang knock-out si Pacquiao. (De la Hoya won in the second round by knocking out Pacquiao.)”
Again, “Paano mo nalaman? (How did you know)”
Again through a text message from a friend.
“Natalo na kami sa pusta, talo pa rin sa panonood. (We lost in the betting, we lost too in watching (the bout).)”
Even with the SM City Pampanga management telling the crowd that all live feeds in the Philippines were showing the same scenes, that the Dream Match had yet to start in Vegas, still the crowd could not be silenced. Believing in its collective delusion that, indeed, what was being beamed was already a much delayed telecast.
So the match commentators themselves were saying what was being shown was indeed a replay of a previous match and that the next undercard would be shortly shown, as indeed it was shown.
So Chino Trinidad, at ringside, was even heard to quip: “Mahaba-haba po ito. Sa ating mga kababayan, maghanda po tayo ng pananghalian para hindi tayo magutom. (This (the matches) will take long. Let us prepare our lunch so we won’t get hungry.)”
But who had the ears to listen when the eye is glued to a previously seen bout? Especially when the decibels of protests and indignation are at their deafening worst?
In the nick of time, Pacquiao putting on his hand bandages came on screen after the second replay to hush the crowd. When the scene segued to the ring and the beautiful Karylle got ready to sing Lupang Hinirang, all dutifully stood and not a few sang along with all that patriotic gusto.
And then, the roar at each Pacquiao punch landing on the hapless De la Hoya; the boom of thunderous delight when what remained of the gold in the beaten boy all but totally melted at his seat on the 9th.
So who still wanted a refund? Who still cared even if what they watched was a much-delayed telecast? Their Pacquiao won. That was all that mattered. Not even Christmas could be merrier than this.
