Humility and Greatness

I’m pretty sure a lot has been said—and is still being said—about Manny Pacquiao’s spectacular victory. I was in Bohol during the match, and on the plane ride back, the stewardess distributed several newspapers and all of them had the same front page news: Pacman has made history as one of the greatest boxers alive.

Personally, I wasn’t really surprised that he won. I was, however, floored by how he did it: a knockout in two rounds. A knockout! In two rounds! And all we were praying for was a simple win.

This is what Manny Pacquiao has become: a call to greatness for a people who find it easy to be content with their lot. Why wish for a simple win, when you can knock the living daylights out of whatever stands in the path to whatever it is you want?

I remember a government commercial campaign that tried to re-educate people about the Filipino word “lang.” If memory serves me right, in one of the TV ads, a man asks a boy about his father’s job. The boy replies, “Karpintero lang po.”Then the voice-over would say, “Bakit may ‘lang’?” and would then launch into a spiel about dignity in honest labor. Then the boy would say, “Karpintero po!”The ads were funny, but there was value in them. Still, it speaks a lot about the Filipinos that we actually had a campaign against excessive or false humility.

One doesn’t have to look far to see this in our culture. As a young girl, I myself was guilty of apologizing to visitors that my house was too messy, or too small, or too whatever. When somebody would ask to use the toilet, I would apologize once again. When I would serve them snacks, another round of apologies would ensue. And so on and so forth, and the visitors would leave and I would continue living in my too-small and too-messy house, and eat my too-simple food, and do my business in my too-dirty bathroom. Until it hit me: if I was living such a pathetic existence I had to apologize for everything, I had better get off my ass and do something to change my lot.

For many people, Manny Pacquiao is the closest to greatness they will ever get. After the boxing match that had the whole country watching, even dreaming for a wild few minutes, talk of his greatness would continue for days, but, like all things, it would fade out until it would just be a pleasant—albeit a spectacularly pleasant—memory. After the talk has completely died down, few people’s lives would be completely changed because of this.

That is a pity.

I’ve had my share of conversations with strangers about how great Manny is, how rich Manny is, how good Manny is—but not one of them have ever said they’d like what Manny has: success in most, if not all, areas of his life.

Someone would say, “Oh, I’d be happy with P100,000.” Why not add a couple more zeros to that? The usual answer: “I’m just a simple person.”

Another would say, “I’m already content with this small house.” Why not a bigger one, with a pool to boot? The usual answer: “We’re just a simple family.”

Still, another would say, “I’m already okay with this person.” Why not a fabulous partner, who loves you and adores you to bits and is exactly the person you so rightfully deserve?

Because we believe we can’t get more, do more or be more. If you really want that small house, and if you really can make do with a small sum of money, then well and good. But if you’re just saying that’s what you want out of false humility, then it’s a pity.

Humility does not mean hiding inside yourself, or closing up like a flower, or crushing your dreams with simplicity as an excuse. It’s blossoming, or coming out and shining—which is exactly what this boy from General Santos City did.

And where is the true humility in Manny Pacquiao’s victory? You can see it in him, praying in a neutral corner, thanking God—but only after honoring His gifts with a moment of personal greatness.

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