The boys from Dadiangas
By Carlos Isagani T. Zarate

THE EUPHORIC multitude that greeted the homecoming of boxing icon Manny Pacquiao last Thursday in General Santos City capped the weeklong tribute for the "peoples' champion."

Pacquiao's November 16 victory over the highly rated world featherweight king Marco Antonio Barrera has put GenSan in the world map once again. It was also a welcome respite, although momentary, from the scandals and political brawls brought by the early onset of the election season.

My townmates, including children, lined up the streets and cheered as Pacquiao's entourage motored from the airport to City Hall where a fiesta celebration awaited him. There was a great sense of pride that surged through the people of the southern port city popularly known to outsiders as "Dadiangas." For good reason. Aside from the crown and the huge purse that went with his victory, Pacquiao also earned a Congressional Medal of Honor conferred on him by congressional leaders days prior to his homecoming. Not surprisingly, it was mostly the young, the adoring children especially, who began to look up at Pacquiao as the model in making it big to escape poverty.

Last Thursday's sight of the children brought back memories of my own childhood back in the '70s in GenSan, when I and other boys of my generation were, at one point, drawn to the world of boxing.

When I was an eight-year-old boy in 1975, my father gave me two pairs of boxing gloves so I could learn boxing and develop my then lanky build. A homemade punching bag and a makeshift ring were also built in our backyard, where I and my cousins and neighbors flailed away at each other more in youthful abandon.

1975 was also the year of the historic "Thrilla in Manila" fight between Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier at the Araneta Coliseum.

Our ears were all glued to the radio that October day to follow the punishing Ali-Frazier fight but at the same time to root for two rising GenSan pugilists at that time -- Rolando Navarrete and Andy Balaba -- who were in separate undercard fights of the main event.

My father is an unrepentant boxing aficionado. Even after being reminded that boxing is a cruel sport, then and now, he will not let an occasion pass -- either by watching a live boxing event or on television -- to root for his favorite boxer. When he gave me those gloves, he told me in jest though that he does not wish to see a son of his earn a living in boxing. But since boys from Dadiangas (the then emerging haven of amateur and professional boxers) were into the sport, my father prodded me to learn a punch or two, to defend myself in a brawl just in case. Indeed, boxing had become so popular in the city at that time that boxing stables sprouted. Boxing's popularity also augured the establishment in Dadiangas of Mindanao's first-ever modern and big stadium, then called the Bernabe Coliseum, to accommodate the growing number of fights staged in the city.

Decades after the "Thrilla in Manila," GenSan saw the roller-coaster fate of many of its favorite sons. In 1981, Navarrete, dubbed the "Bad Boy from Dadiangas" was catapulted to fame when he replaced Rafael "Bazooka" Limon who withdrew at the last minute of his fight with Africa-based champion Cornellius Boza Edwards. The "replacement" proved to be a blessing in disguise for Navarrete who went on to snatch the World Boxing Council super featherweight crown from Edwards via a third round knockout.

From that victory, it seemed there was no stopping the fame and glory of Navarrete. He successfully defended his title twice, only to be ruined by career miscues and an obstinate lifestyle. He was defeated via TKO by the man he replaced when he won the crown: Bazooka Limon. His wife left him; he was convicted and served a jail term in Hawaii for rape; he became an alcoholic, deserted by once loyal and avid fans.

All that is left of his fame and fortune now are laminated memorabilia of his past glory and an unfinished gym where he planned to train future boxing champions. He may have learned some lessons but even Navarrete knows that he is now only a shadow of his former self.

If Navarrete had some luck, it was not so with Balaba. In 1982, Balaba died of brain injuries he got in a fight with a Korean boxer.

Despite the sad fate that has befallen Navarrete and Balaba, many fearless boys from Dadiangas or "Mga Batang Adiang," still follow in their footsteps. Among them are Bernie Torres (WBO Junior Bantamweight champion), Abner Cordero (WBCI Bantamweight champion) and Zarlet Rodrigo (WBCI Mini-Flyweight champion).

Last Thursday, among the happy well-wishers of Pacquiao was his 46-year-old idol Navarrete. When they posed for the camera, the unmistakable contrast was etched on their faces: an aging, battered and retired champion against a young, still raging champion. Apparently, the irony was not lost on the 26-year-old Pacquiao. He reportedly announced his plans to retire by the age of 30. Pacquiao should not let these rare blessings in his life slip from his fingers, the way it was with his boyhood idol. Pacquiao lifted the expectations of many poor young boys from Dadiangas and elsewhere who are willing to commit their lives to an uncertain future in boxing. He must not let them down.

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