His heroism has reached towering heights. Three years ago, he joined former President Cory Aquino in Time magazine’s Asian hall of fame. Before he demolished Miguel Cotto in Las Vegas last Sunday, Time again featured him on its cover story entitled The Great Hope: Why Manny Pacquiao is more than the world’s best boxer.
That assertion is transformed into a question as the reader turns to the inside story: “As he thinks about politics, can Manny Pacquiao be more than the best boxer in the world?”
In two weeks’ time, Manny will most likely join thousands of aspirants who will file their certificates of candidacies in Comelec offices throughout the country. After his not so surprising loss to incumbent Rep. Darlene Antonino-Custodio in 2007, he established legal residence in Sarangani --- away from his actual home in General Santos City --- and he is now well-poised for a second attempt to get elected as a member of the House of Representatives.
Notes Time: “Politics as his second act may be a strategy born of a deeper survival instinct --- from knowing the limitations of a boxer’s life, particularly after the fighting is done. ‘Di ako bobo’ (‘I’m not stupid), he might say.”
The quote was picked up from Manny’s conversation with some Filipinos at the launching in Yankee Stadium last September of his fight with Cotto. Time’s reporters said he was sharing anecdotes on his rags-to-riches climb when he said “what seems to be both an assertion and a lesson learned: “Di ako bobo.”
His brilliant coach Freddie Roach was also quoted as saying “Pacquiao may have just two more fights in him and then call it quits.” A clamor is now building up for undefeated welterweight champion Floyd Mayweather Jr. to be Manny’s next opponent. But that does not seem to be Manny’s next priority as he appears to be determined to reenter the cockpit of politics.
Time could have used another metaphor like, say, political ring or political arena, but the authors’ choice of cockpit is, arguably, an appropriate turn of phrase. Manny is known to surround himself with politician friends who are also cockfighting aficionados, foremost among whom is former Ilocos Sur Governor Luis ‘Chavit’ Singson, prompting Ramon Casiple, a political analyst, to say what is on many Filipinos’ minds: “(We) don’t want him to run, to dirty himself and open himself to charges of corruption.”
Manny Pacquiao may wish to consult another Visayan who scraped through life, became a successful professional in his chosen career, entered politics and was elected congressman (against a formidable opponent from a well-established dynasty), then opted out of politics after a single term. That alternative role model is back on the job in his chosen field where he is distinguished and well respected.
I refer to Teodoro Etong, better known as Ted Failon, anchor broadcaster of ABS-CBN’s primetime newscast and a political commentator on radio.
Even before ending his first three-year stint as a congressman from Leyte, Ted declared that he was definitely not seeking reelection to the House of Representatives, a body that is routinely criticized as being a virtual “house of representathieves” --- a sullied reputation even its own former leaders did not hesitate to denounce.
The late Ramon Mitra, who served as House Speaker after Edsa Uno --- he was also a Senator during the Marcos regime --- was once quoted as saying that his fellow congressmen would not mind signing even a piece of toilet paper, if that meant pushing their personal agenda and ambitions.
High on that agenda is pork barrel, that seemingly bottomless vessel of people’s money that is allocated to members of Congress --- including those in the Senate --- who treat the largesse as an abundant bounty of discretionary funds that is officially labeled as countrywide development fund (CDF).
Ted Failon was a compleat professional. He sought public office believing that he could be a more effective public servant better as a legislator and as an elected representative of his constituents. But he realized that the ways and mores of our decadent political culture are essentially incompatible with his own principles and core values. He did not need three years to learn this vital lesson. When truth hit home, he did not blink; nor did he play deaf to what his inner voice was telling him. He listened to the stirrings of his conscience.
As a national icon and role model, Manny Pacquiao carries a heavier burden than that imposed on ordinary mortals. He has already more than proven his mettle as a professional athlete. He has accumulated vast material wealth that, if properly invested and managed, may be more than sufficient for his family’s long-term sustenance.
More than rising above the din of showbiz buzz on his alleged romantic escapades, he has to live beyond the literal meaning of his name: Manny Pacquiao translates crudely into monopoly of money or greed. But, of course that may be an exaggeration.
If his real name is Manuel, that is the short form of Emmanuel, or “God with us”: the reason why the birth of Christ is celebrated in the song, the first Noel. The world witnessed what Manny did immediately after the referee stopped the fight last weekend. No, he did not jump up and down to celebrate. He walked to the nearest corner, knelt, clasped his bowed head with his gloved hands and prayed. Miguel Cotto, bloodied and battered, tapped him gently to offer his gracious congratulations.
Indeed, Manny can live up to Time’s billing as The Great Hope, if he resists the allurements of power and pelf and heeds the call of soul and spirit.
