HUSHED BY A PUNCH BOWL
By: Iris P. Concepcion

I started today's Sunday merrymaking ride by attending a mass where mothers received surprise gifts from the priest. Roses bloomed in dainty pink with white ribbons. Personally, it is already like watching the Elysee Towers or the gondolas of Italy. It was not a forced wrenching attempt to be emotional but I would rather see a million Moms getting credit for their unsung works than me getting fussed over by my imaginary kids. They know where my heart lies and what I need and what I truly like.

It started last night as a contrast of flood handling happened right on our street. The drainage system of the fixed road worked. The ones which were rehabilatated manually with old rakes and equipment did not. Naturally, when resistance to rehabilatation is embraced, this is the effect.

I saw a sponge for flood in blue standing right across the house. It was beautiful. I see the world through innovative products now and it was one of those happy stance just waiting to be used.

With the flowers abundant in the mass proceedings, I know where the lineage of thoughtfulness came from. Very like the better other to execute things that way than be bombastic about expressing his thanks.

Right after the mass, I saw a photo gallery of basketball moments with funny captions and Laban analogies. It was informative as shoes get displayed. The balls that had been touched by the hand are remarkable and way too forward. Embossed in gold in balls, I already know who the prexied players are. I laughed at the precious, odd captions. Even here, improvement was done.

I whiled away my time looking for lunch and focused on a salad. It was realtively priced lower as I chose heavy portions with my pasta fills. The fruit area is cheaper at P18.00 per 100 kilogram. I talked to the woman who paid P100.00 for her variety of fruits that looked thin but she would not budge. Filled in the green corner, it cost only P50 bucks.

The price hikes, I surmised, are regulatred better in grocery stores. It is better managed now. The buyers need only to be lenient and malleable to switch brands that are fit with the market budget. This is Economy 101 and it is teaching us a major lesson on delivering information correctly.

I asked my favorite baker, the mouse grin, where I could find a television set inside the mall. It was raining outside and I should not miss the Pacquiao bout. Apparentlly, a giant screen was installed in one of the mall wings. I went there with my salad and bread. I stood, watching the fight from the back. It was funny but a riotous sports orientation. They should have done this in coliseums. For free.

The commercials took a dig at past ads with non-mentionable credits; I could not help but feel gagged over their sub-par renditions. The audience was animated. The blue girl in tight dress with wild hair stood out from among the crowd.

First off, I knew that Manny Pacquiao shall win this bout even with my eyes closed. There is the battle of short design. Pacquiao had the imaginative signages, with letter M remarkably embossed in his blue jersey. The Nike logo was on his butt as if proud to have been approved by the Bureau of Butts and Industry. His belt, in optical illusion had a COA word. Or perhaps, I am getting cross-eyed. He wore yellow gloves and he looked colorful and happy even without throwing a jab.

His opponent is a joke. I do not know how they could have pitted this guy with an enormously better and prized fighter. He looks mean, alright, but he never traded punches with the Top Guy. He just sported that pouty look all throughout. Image here is nothing. Footwork does it.

It is expected that MP just played around with his opponent, wanting him to last and test his endurance. A woman stood beside me to subtly heckle and I just had to deliver my spiel. I told him, Manny Pacquiao can get by without food; he had been fed with scrap and had been taunted with chicken parts and all sorts of tummy taunts without folding up. His arch enemy, meanwhile, are routinely fed with protein from well-placed restaurants.

He prevailed because he is disciplined. Like the old woman who regularly visits me for spiritual discussions, this guy knows what poverty is and is deeply rooted in that without straying. Talk about class. Of course, he is a microcosm of the better other, a valued friend and the corn kids. Even the voice-over commentators confirmed my hunch. Nobody messes around with David. Not even Goliath.

Pacquiao's mentors are exceptionally focused. They never waver. You could not even see them twitch. In fact, unlike his opponents whose forte is merely yelling and parading their biceps, these guys impart the art of timing, good manners and patience.

In the end, this is how a battle is won, fair and square. It is not about misplaced aggressiveness; it is all about silent determination that aim to deliver results. Only results.