Yes, you can call me a Pacquiao groupie
MANILA, Philippines - PacMan vs Clottey. Hmmm… Where do I start? Let’s start with the obvious. He’s not fighting Floyd Mayweather. As a boxing fan, the Mayweather/Pacquiao fight has to happen and if you ask me, I think it will. As you may or may not know I’ve been lucky enough to witness some of Pacman’s best fights, mostly in part because he gives me fight tickets and I provide plane tickets for myself. This time around was a little different, though. You see, usually a PacMan fight will take place in Las Vegas — wherein there are many things to do, like catch a show, go golfing, gamble, look for celebrities, get married, run from Mike Tyson (it’s a long and scary story), people watch, etc. — none of which I do because I’m busy getting hammered with my friends while they call me a Pacquiao groupie. So unfortunately, this fight was not in Las Vegas, it was in Texas (cue: tumbleweeds rolling by).
Ahhh, Texas. They say everything is bigger in Texas and after having been there, I’m now a firm believer. Bigger steak, bigger hats, bigger cars, bigger hotels, bigger cab fare and most importantly bigger stadiums. The Pacquiao/Clottey match happened in the biggest indoor stadium in the world with the largest HD screen in the world. It cost $1.2 billion to create. The damn thing is amazing. The fight here was more of a showcase for Cowboys Stadium than a real boxing match. Okay, let’s try to put this in a timeline.
Wednesday: Arrive in Dallas after a 20-hour plane ride. Me and some friends go straight up to Manny’s room to say “hi” and pay our respects. I get my tickets. Check into our hotel only to find out it’s a kid’s resort, so nothing is open past 9 p.m. Booo!
Thursday: Got my first drink at Manny’s hotel around 5 p.m. Fast forward four hours and now I’m throwing back glasses of whiskey with most of Team Pacquiao minus, of course, the boss. Taking pictures with Miguel Cotto, Jorge Arce, Marco Antonio Barrera. 2 a.m.: Get kicked out, trip over a rock and fall. Damn rock. Sleep.
Friday: Woke up with a headache. I thought it was a hangover, but it was because I slept with a rock as a pillow. Don’t ask. Check out of the kiddie hotel to meet my brother Colby who’s arriving from Seattle. Check into a motel in Arlington next to the stadium thinking it’s near bars and fun stuff. Wrong. Walk to the weigh-in. Manny and Clottey are joking around like they’re best friends. I’m jealous. We then go back to Manny’s hotel where Colby gets trashed at the bar. Manny gives me a ringside seat. Score!
Saturday: FIGHT NIGHT! I get all my “Philippine pride” stuff out. I look good. Nike gave me the Pacquiao shoes, jacket and a special shirt only to be worn after he won (it says “51 Wins”). I look like a walking flag. I’m proud to be Pinoy, so I don’t care what you say. Crack open a brew with the neighbors, who are some white Americans that drove 12 hours to watch the fight. Walk to the fight and enter the mammoth of a beast they call Cowboy Stadium. I try to drink, but $10 for a beer? I don’t. Watched Manny whip a very scared Joshua Clottey. Manny’s singing at his after-party… I didn’t get tickets. Oooh… Darn.
Sunday: Get to the airport six hours early. Fast forward 30 hours, I land in Manila. Not much more than that.
In all, it was a good trip. I had the chance to meet up with all of my Team Pacquiao friends, sleep on a rock, see the biggest indoor stadium, see my brother, got to kick it with Manny, see a lopsided fight but a win nonetheless, and I know have the sweetest Nike jackets and PacMan shoes. Honestly, the true highlight of the trip was hearing Manny say that he was practicing a new punch. A punch that we will all remember. Then, in one of the rounds Manny unleashes a blazing-fast seven-punch combo with the fight punch a double-fisted FPJ ear smack that had the whole arena laughing. Even the referee had a chuckle. You can see Manny was laughing, too, but no one was laughing as hard as Team Pacquaio because he told us he was going to do that. The only one not laughing was Clottey.
