MAKE IT FOUR

I suppose Pool and Snooker are sports.  They are shown on TV Sports channels in most countries, especially the Philippines — contestants are at least the equivalent of highly accomplished athletes.    Efren Reyes and Francisco “Django” Bustamonte are names known by almost every Filipino over the age of six — and by Pool players all over the world.

Both men and several other Philippine pocket Billiards (Pool) players are known internationally because Filipinos excel at the game.  I have a friend in California who sponsors a Filipino player at tournaments and says he breaks even, maybe even takes home a few dollars.  He’s not that concerned with making big bucks, he’s a good player himself but he’s 75 years old.  He just loves the game – the action – being part of the tournaments. 

If anyone doubts the glamour associated with Pool tournaments they might want to rent the DVD: “The Hustler” or its sequel “The Color of Money” — the former shut out of major Oscars although nominated for nine.  Paul Newman was the glue that held both films together and received the Best Actor Award when he reprised his role as “Fast Eddie” Felson in “Money” co-starring Tom Cruise.  There is more to both films than playing Pool.

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But this is not so much about Pool as it is about Boxing.  If Filipinos are Pool fans at age six, they are Boxing fans at birth.

On Saturday (in North America) Manny Pacquiau (pronounced Pak-ee-ow and nicknamed “Pac- Man”) won the World Boxing Council’s Lightweight division crown after knocking out Mexican-American David Diaz in the ninth round at Mandalay Resort and Casino in Las Vegas before a packed house and seen on television in much of the world.  He made History.

Never has an Asian boxer won a title in four different divisions.  Pacquiau had previously won the WBC Flyweight title as well as the Super Featherweight.  He had also won the International Boxing Federation’s Super Bantamweight division championship.  Saturday’s (Sunday in the Philippines) KO makes it his fourth.

Whether or not Pacquiau could beat Nate Campbell who holds the World Boxing Association, World Boxing Organization, and International Boxing Federation Lightweight titles is moot in the Philippines.  All associations are recognized and “Pac Man” has usually fought in the WBC.  That’ll do.

In a country that is destitute — millions of its people on the point of starvation; ruled by a thoughtless, ego-driven president who is generally considered a thug; it’s people trying as best they can to cope with run-a-way government corruption; no suitable recourse against a greed-steeped Court system … Manny Pacquiau is the bright light at whom people can point.

There’s a story that a Philippine congressman — definitely not a boxing fan, stood up in the House and condemned Manny’s supporters, referring to Boxing as a blood-sport like cock-fighting.  He was litterally booed out of the chamber.

The Philippines is sport-starved.  There is neither the room nor the money to build large stadiums.  Golf courses are few and far between.  Football fields are non-existent.  I’ve never seen a baseball diamond.  The only major team sport played through-out the country is Basketball and Basketball doesn’t need a lot of space. 

Backboards and hoops are nailed to trees and kids play on the paved or unpaved streets.  Some communities provide small outdoor half-courts but with no seating.  Schools are where the game flourishes.  

There is a professional Philippine Basketball League with teams sponsored by businesses such as, Burger King, Toyota, Hapee Toothpaste, a Pharmaceutical chain and Nokia cell phones.  The crowds swell during the play-offs — the league is all that’s available and the competitive spirit is inherent in human beings: sport, sales, whatever.

 As for Pool, an area little larger than a store-front is really all the space needed to house a table and the room to move around it.  There are thousands of them and spectators can look on from the sidewalk.

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In order to watch their National Hero’s televised fight in Vegas the average Filipino is sorely tested.  There is Pay-Per-View — however an estimated ratio of those who can afford the steep rates? say … one in 10-thousand. 

No matter, the one-two combination that dumped Diaz to the canvas at 2:24 of the ninth round was seen by in excess of 50-million Filipinos on one of the regular Manila-based channels.  What that Manila television station managed to do prior to the winning round was atrocious.  

This is how it works: each three-minute round is separated by seven minutes of commercials. This, of course means things get behind — so the TV station runs a tape loop and records all the rounds subsequent to round one then plays them back after the seven minutes is taken up with beer and hard-liquor commercials, herbal products, locally produced skin cream and beauty aids and a glob of other trash advertising.  TV viewers don’t see as much as the fighters reach their corners after the bell and the next round appears back on screen as they approach each other across the ring.  In between is  slop.  Badly produced slop at that.

One hears no commentary or analysis between rounds as is the case with Western staged bouts. The commentators are Filipino, one speaks in English, the other in Tagalog and somehow they manage not to trip over each other’s words.  They do their best.

The fight is usually over by the time regular (free) TV has reached the fourth round.  A Filipino who caught the fight on PPV and yelled the decision to people watching Channel 5 risks getting beaten to a pulp.

The Philippine television regulatory board has no restrictions on the number of commercials a station runs per hour — so large presentations such as the Academy Awards undergo this same treatment.  Plus reception is poor outside of Manila.  Small repeater towers carry the signal which often yields a snowy picture prone to “break-up” because of low  transmitter power.  Old-fashioned television antennae are also sub-standard; many are home-made with parts from junk shops.

Wireless Cable is best but again television reception suffers from heavy rain storms blocking the signal.  This is due to the low power output, much like Philippine movie theaters which, in order to save power, run low-watt bulbs behind the film causing the onscreen image to be dark and hard on the eyes.

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But Pacquiau won.  While he fought, the streets were literally empty. The terrorists stopped fighting in the South of the country.  Large Department stores set up areas where patrons could watch the bout (and the commercials); each home with a TV set was full of relatives and neighbors. In General Santos City, Cotobato Province South of Manila the Pacquiau residence was blistered with people.

When Manny was pronounced the winner a person standing in a field could surely hear the cheers that reverberated around the neighborhood.  The streets were suddenly full, many of the men were half tanked up and planned on getting plastered; many women were weeping.  And this poor, starving, dilapidated country was able to forget, for one day at least, its corrupt government, its lack of food, the price gouging, the difficult life — and feel something extremely rare and wonderful – Pride.

Thank you, Manny Pacquiau.

SETTING A PRECEDENT

The Sun has set on Hillary Clinton but only for the time being.  She could well arise on a new dawn at the Democratic National Convention in late September, maybe even as Vice-presidential candidate but surely no less than a featured speaker welcomed by the delegates to the point of hysteria.

Senator Clinton set a precedent when her husband was the president of the United States and confirmed the fact she was ready to confront any political  future in which the Clinton family might became involved when she ran and won as Senator of New York State in the year 2000, repeating the win in 2006.

Hillary Clinton remained in the spotlight through her husband’s two terms in office.  Remember the line — Bill intoning the famous “you get two for one”.  Then the president appointed her to head up a new Health Care Policy — she lost that fight to a hostile congress.  But she was always active behind the scenes much as Nancy Reagan was active behind the scenes while Ronald Reagan held office.

Where Barbara Bush had been motherly; Hillary was a political wife.  Where Jacquelyn Kennedy was known as a fashion first – first lady; Hillary was a lady politician.  She outshone Lady Bird Johnson, Betty Ford and Rosalynn Carter and left little doubt that the Clinton name would not die politically with Bill.  She marked her turf with individuality by retaining her maiden name: Rodham – scissored between Hillary and Clinton. 

She set a precedent.

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Now we are faced with two women – one, a future first lady – who are as different as day is from night.  Michelle Robinson Obama is 44 and dark, both in complexion and in hair colour and has spent her career as a respected and well-paid public servant.  Cindy McCain is ten years older, blonde and a business woman worth 100 million dollars — heavily involved in charitable work mainly concerning children.

Michelle has been the more outspoken and has topped Ms McCain in media attention — some would say unfairly.  A lot of that attention came on February 8th of this year when she spoke in Milwaukee, Wisconsin and said for the first time in her adult life she was proud of her country.

Of course the media crawled all over her, putting a negative twist to her words which prompted George W. Bush’s wife, Laura, to say she thought Michelle had been misrepresented.  No matter, it stuck and shook her husband’s campaign for a time. 

However that was the only serious gaff, if that’s what it was.  And aside from being termed a ‘firebrand’, Ms Obama has managed only to irk New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd from the top rung of editorial writers.  Dowd didn’t even tag Michelle with a pet name but chided her for poking fun at Barack.

Like her husband, Michelle lacks experience, but more on the stump than does Senator Obama who is short on International politics.  She’s smart, educated at both Harvard and Princeton.   She’s attractive and has not let politics interfere with the raising of the couple’s two little girls.  It’s doubtful she will be pre-categorized as a mousy first lady.

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Cindy Hensley McCain, at 54 looks ten years younger.  She is a striking blonde ex-cheerleader, Junior Rodeo Beauty Queen and she’s no stereotype.  People used to seeing this tall, good-looking woman — she’s eighteen years younger than her husband – and forming the impression she’s window dressing for her silver haired husband can think again.  

There are those who have written that she is smarter than he.  She holds a BA and an MA in Education.  The death of her father eight years ago left her as the chair of the giant beer distributing firm begun years ago by her father.  She earns $400,000 per and has a pre-nuptial agreement with John.  They file separate income tax returns and she does not make hers public.

She is reported to be vitally interest in the plight of kids all over the world.  Plagued with miscarriages when she was younger she has since had three children, her eldest, Meghan, is as striking as her mother.  The couple also has two boys and adopted a Bangladesh orphan now named Bridget.  She founded the non-profit “American Voluntary Medical Team” (AVMT) which resembled a MASH unit.  

She’s won recognition in the “best-dressed” group who usually attend operas and such … however Ms McCain is a fan of the Rolling Stones and Cream.  Her cell-phone ring is the Beach Boys version of Barbara-Ann.  She and her kids have a share in the Arizona Diamondbacks Baseball Team and she flies her own plane and drives race cars, although an amature. 

But unlike Michelle, Cindy has had to weather baggage.  Following spinal surgery she became hooked on pain killers and kicked when her parents staged an intervention.  One of her own Directors of AVMT threatened to go public with the dope story.  Cindy brought the guy, Tom Gosinski, to court on extortion charges when he said he’d back off for a quarter million.  It blew over when charges were dropped.

Subsequently she dismantled AVMT in favor of “The Hensley Corporation” which offers help to needy children in Arizona and the rest of the United States.

During this period Senator McCain became involved in the “Keating Five” scandal, when Charles Keating, boss of the failed Lincoln Savings and Loan was tabbed as flying the McCain’s around in his private Jet with visits to his luxury home in Bermuda. John McCain aided the struggling Keating along with four other senators – hence the Keating Five handle.

During her pain killer addiction, Cindy became involved in the Keating Five fiasco herself when she was unable to account for receipts for trips on the Keating jet.

 John McCain was admonished for his association with Keating but along with Senator John Glenn, ran for the Senate again and won.  The three other Senators were not so lucky, they were more heavily admonished.  Poof.  

Cindy has suffered, as noted, spinal surgery, a hysterectomy and in April of 2004 suffered a near-fatal stroke from which she has now almost completely recovered.  She still suffers some short term memory loss and occasionally has trouble writing.

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What Cindy McCain will do about the chair position at her company should her husband become president she has yet to decide.  She will undoubtedly continue with her various charities – the woman is a philanthropist – but as for being active in White House Politics – uh uh.  She will not follow Roselyn Carter and attend cabinet meetings.  How much pillow talk she’ll engage in is anybody’s guess.

Michelle Obama will probably be more front and center should her husband be elected.  She can be outspoken and if Senator Obama does gain the C in C job, there is going to be a lot of race talk in the United States.  Michelle has not proven herself the kind of woman to allow its inherent negativity to proliferate.  She could be expected to speak out.

Whatever the Precedent set by Hillary Clinton, we are in for a considerable change.  Neither woman is a Barbara Bush – the secret service is not apt to see either Ms McCain or Ms Obama hauling the day’s clothing to the washing machines in the late night hours.  But neither are Americans likely to see another aspiring politician waiting out her husband’s term.

Such a gambit failed once and it’s not likely to become the intention of either of these two prospective first ladies … which ever one gets the job.   

Noise, Ducks and Grease

Yerpal Oujla, who is pure British, dreamed up the expression “an old Git in Paradise” which appears on the header of this site and I foolishly let him get away with it — however it is descriptive and true to some extent.

For the past three days we, in the Philippines (Yerpal’s idea of Paradise), have been battered by a Typhoon and I can now more fully understand the plight of the millions of people in Asia along with those in the United States who have been having extreme adverse weather conditions lately.

This country has undergone simply awful flooding, a ferry capsized with loss of life in the hundreds and rice growers as well as vegetable farmers have had their crops devastated and their dwellings washed away. 

Other than having had some uninvited, although welcome, house guests who feared for their safety … and having to cope with ducks escaping from a weather-struck enclosure; a few goats frightened out of their wits and a mass of tree branches covering our lawn we managed to escape the brunt of the thing.

Loss of electricity is a nuisance and worse.  It has been the norm during this typhoon as communication has collapsed. Thankfully we have a genny and aside from it using more gasoline than our automobile, it has lately been something of a boon.

One cannot but sympathize greatly with the local population, most of who are not as well equipped to handle a major typhoon as my wife and I.  The bloody thing didn’t even smack us a direct hit – merely a sideswipe.  Not so for the large population centers in the country’s central islands where the greatest destruction lies.  It’s now rampaging northward in the South China Sea.

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The point of this piece is not, however, typhoons.  The point is Noise Pollution.  Filipinos like it.  Their main form of home entertainment is Karaoke.  Not only Karaoke but explosive devices – very large and very noisy firecrackers.  

It is a given fact that most people cannot sing well enough to entertain an audience.  In fact if they were to find themselves somehow booked into a large theater they would never end the song they started before being figuratively pelted off the stage by shouted abuse and insults.  Most unprintable.

The fact that people don’t like listening to caterwauling desecration of popular music matters little to Filipinos.  It is their pastime on family birthdays or any celebratory reason what so-ever to rent karaoke machines and create verbal adulteration which can be heard by all the neighbors – like it or not.

The effect of huge 1000-watt amplifiers and their 1000 watt speakers is about the same as if one were forced to stand a few feet from a chain-saw for hours at a time.  Not as in using the device, but as in listening to it.

Most of us know how karaoke works by now – some are convinced that it’s pay-back for the loss of World War Two by the Japanese who invented this most hideous of home leisure activities.  However most Asian countries — where the practice is prevalent — confine their bleating to the indoors.  In the Philippines, all apparatus: amps, speakers, television set with the lyric-crawl, microphones and “vocalist” is found outside. The resultant racket is inescapable.

We are surrounded by parcels of land where live large families — all Filipino families are large – and there are a great many birthdays.  After a few years of this karaoke din, I purchased a sound system loud enough to drown out the tumult and flood my own premises with Led Zeppelin or AC/DC — even Beethoven Symphonic music – anything loud enough to dispatch the violation of My Way, You’ll Never Walk Alone or I Will Always Love You  – each difficult songs to sing by accomplished artists but downright abusive when attempted by my neighbors.

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The other favorite of the locals is loud bangs.  Explosions is more accurate a description.  Firecrackers are banned in many countries but are encouraged in the Philippines.  Not just those little five-centimeter firecrackers which were the mainstay of, depending where you live, the Fourth of July or Halloween or Guy Fawkes Day — but big red bombs the size of a stick of dynamite and the sound to go with it.

One has no warning.  Not in the beginning.  Explosions are held as celebratory proceedings for births, birthdays, weddings, anniversaries, fiestas, National holidays, Christmas, Holy week and especially New Years Eve. 

The first one comes out of nowhere.  A blasting cap large enough to fell a good sized tree suddenly explodes.  There is no thought given to the effect such a noise has on old people with heart conditions, young people concentrating on their video games, dogs, cats, ducks, goats and water buffalo, the most commonly found animals in rural parts of this country.  It has the effect of scaring people and animals half to death.

Following the initial shock one settles into a day of experiencing shock every short while. It is endemic.  If some nearby resident has a reason to celebrate it’s time to reach for the ear-plugs.  Seriously. 

Probably the worst aspect of all this noise is the fact that the hour of day has not one iota of bearing upon the extent of the celebratory mood.  Filipino men are in the habit of getting drunk on all these occasions and this adds to the sheer ruination of well-known tunes and the frequency of explosive devices.

The favorite drink is a product known as Ginebra.  It’s what I would suppose people drank in the far-off days of prohibition which we see unfolding on the movie screens from time to time.  Bathtub gin it was called.

I don’t indulge but the smell of the stuff is enough to make one swear off booze, perhaps forever.  So let me draw you a picture of a Filipino birthday celebration….

….it’s eight o’clock in the evening.  The men have all been drinking for a couple of hours and are engaged in conversational shouting.  The wives are inside doing dishes and talking among themselves.  One brings out a roasted duck which is placed in the center of a table in the back yard.  A bottle of water and two glasses – one a six ounce tumbler, the second a two ounce shot glass accompany the duck.  Close by lie several boxes of the large red bombs I spoke of. 

A 40 ounce bottle of Ginebra appears and the shot glass is filled, belted back and chased with three or four ounces of warm water.  The guy who just drank grabs a piece of duck, with his fingers, eats it, and passes the shot glass to the next person who repeats the process and in this matter the glass, chaser tumbler and gin bottle make their way around the table endlessly – a kind of Filipino version of passing a joint.

(From time to time we’ll hear an off-key, tuneless version of My Way.)

The shot glass quickly becomes as greasy as a truck axel, the chaser glass as well.  The duck is replaced by a second, then a third.  Duck is tasty but it is also greasy.  I will leave it to your imagination as to what the table and the partiers look like in a couple of hours.  Greasy?  No…greasier.

The side-bar to all this drinking, eating and  loud shouting is: every few minutes some-one will reach into a bomb-box and light the fuse of another 20-centimeter bunkerbuster-cracker which is followed by much whooping and laughter … more gin and more duck and more … grease.

Aside from the noise and the danger (many people are hurt each year) I have to say that the Filipino has few ways, and very little means with which to celebrate and I cannot find it in myself to condemn them for their inebriated, greasy, noisy pastime in celebration of a nephew’s baby being born.  

It’s not my game, but if nothing else, the enjoyment is catching.  Some-one once hit the nail on the head when they said “whatever turns you on”.