Cebu Sports Blog by John Pages

Facing intense heat, James wasn’t LeBron

ESPN summed it up best: MIAMI NEEDED LEBRON TO BE GREAT. HE WASN’T.

Dirk Nowitzki was. That’s why he and the Blue Boys of Texas are the World Champions.

What happened to Mr. James? It’s bewildering. It’s astonishing. You saw it on BTV. Here’s the most talented athlete in basketball, one 6-foot-8 who can dribble like Isiah Thomas and rebound like Abdul-Jabbar, one who can soar like Erving and drill that long-range missile like Bird.

What happened to Mr. Great? LeBron collapsed. The burden was too massive and heavy, even for a muscular 250-lb. behemoth. LeBron yielded to the unbearable pressure. Of Dallas. Of Stevenson. Of Florida. Of his teammate, Dwayne. Of all of us, scrutinizing his every dribble, fake and jump shot.

LeBron was not LeBron. We’d become accustomed to watching him penetrate and score. He’s the Gladiator. One who’s unafraid. One who, by the sheer muscle of his Mr. Olympia body, could score 35, or 44, or 56–like he did once against Toronto in 2005.

The past two weeks, LeBron was paralyzed. He was intimidated. By who or by what? I don’t know. It’s puzzling. But he was. Whenever he’d touch that ball, the first thing he’d do–within a millisecond–is to search for one of his four teammates. He forgot who he was. He forgot the games in Boston and Chicago. Mr. Extraordinary became Ordinary. In the first five games of The Final, he scored a combined 11 points in the fourth quarter. Can you believe that? Those numbers belong in the lowliest of the Guinness World Record. That’s 11 points in the 60 most crucial minutes.

In all, the No. 6-wearing Heat averaged 17.8 points per game. His regular season numbers? He averaged 26.7. That’s a big, big letdown.

The happiest people on earth today? Cleveland residents!

Because the star in James fizzled, Miami deserves to lose. LBJ isn’t worthy. Not this time. Maybe next year. Maybe never. You know how some people–no matter how talented or how hard they try–never win the prize? In nine years of attempting, LeBron has scored 0 for 9.

Nowitzki? He’s ReDirkulous. Scoring a ridiculously-low three points in the first half of Game 6, he rebounded to score 18 in the second. “I don’t think there’s any doubt after this series,” said coach Rick Carlisle, “that Dirk has certainly earned the clout of being one of the all-time great players.” He now has one ring. LeBron has empty fingers.

The man who made famous the term “The Decision,” when he transferred from Cleveland to Miami, now has a new term to remember: “The Disintegration.” Or, how about… The Indecision. It bewilders me how indecisive LeBron was. You win championships–think of Li Na of China–by being the aggressor. There’s no champion with the first name Doubtful.

You know the term “buaya?” Of course, in basketball parlance, we know what this means. It’s negative. It means a player hogs the ball too much, shoots too much; he’s selfish. Well, guess what? LeBron should have been a buaya. He forgot that he’s not Scottie Pippen. He’s the star. He’s not Robin, he’s Batman. Or Kobe Bryant. He ought to have copied Kobe, who has five more NBA titles than him. Kobe is buaya. Everybody knows that. So what? Kobe answers. That’s why I’ve won so many, he’d say.

Maybe LeBron’s too nice. Maybe he wants to be called “Mr. Unselfish.” But that’s not why Miami paid him $19 million this year. He’s there to score, dunk, score, dunk.

The saddest part in all this: Many rooted for James to win. I did. Jana and Jasmin did. So did majority of my friends. This is unbearably painful for him. Did you watch him walk out of the stadium and inside that hallway to the locker room, with head bent low and down? Nobody has been more ridiculed, scorned, tormented, vilified.

But success breeds high expectations. Look at our Pacquiao. He’s won the last 14 fights so convincingly that, even with a lopsided victory against Shane Mosley, we crucified him, saying, “MP wasn’t at his best.”

LeBron is the best. We expected more. Instead, we got LeChoke.

Dirk vs. LeBron? The blue German towers

We don’t know what will happen tomorrow. Miami’s vice called Dallas may win. Or the heat inside the American Airlines Arena may burn the Mavs. This is the beauty of sport. The surprise. The suspense. The thrill. There are no guarantees. Sure, odds and probabilities are plenty. Experts predicted that the Miami Heat would go all the way — but lose to Dirk Nowitzki?

The Spalding ball is round. It spins. It back-bounces. It rolls. This NBA Final is a dice roll. Pick the Texans to beat the Floridians? Good choice. Or, maybe not. Remember how Kobe Bryant, last year, flew from Boston to L.A. and won the season’s final two games? James can do a Bryant. Nike star can follow Nike star. We don’t know what will happen tomorrow. But this we know: In a battle of giants, the 7-footer is taller than the 6-foot-8. Dirk Nowitzki soars above LeBron James.

LeBron has Dwayne Wade and Chris Bosh as teammates. Dirk? His teammates look so old they can claim 20 percent discounts in Cebu establishments without showing their Senior Citizen cards. Dirk is surrounded by non-entities. Well, okay, that’s too harsh. There’s Jason Kidd. But Kidd is no kid, he’s 38 years too old. “We’re like the movie ‘The Castoffs’,” said Donnie Nelson, the General Manager of the Mavericks. “Our superstar is a superstar. But go down the list. J.J. (Barea) is too small. Jason Kidd is too old. Jason Terry is the Stevie Nash boobie prize. Tyson Chandler and (Peja) Stojakovic are returned or damaged goods. And (DeShawn Stevenson) was a throw-in with our Caron Butler deal.”

True. Yet, look at the score. Tomorrow, Dallas will be 48 minutes away from its first-ever NBA championship. The single-handed reason for this all? A single person. An 84-inch-tall German native who, in 2007, was the first European-born player in NBA history to win the Most Valuable Player crown. After five NBA Final games, Dirk Nowitzki has averaged 27 points and 9.4 rebounds. Jeff Van Gundy, the former New York Knicks coach, pronounced him as the series MVP — prior to Game 5. Van Gundy believes that, even if Miami rallies to win games 6 and 7, the MVP ought to be Dirk. (Only once, in NBA history, back in 1969 with Jerry West of the Lakers, has an MVP been named from a losing team.) “He is now being known by one name,” Van Gundy said of Nowitzki. “You start saying ‘Dirk,’ everybody knows.”

All this, Dirk is doing despite a myriad of problems: an injured middle finger on his left hand during Game 1 and a 39-degree Celsius high fever in Game 4. While LeBron and Wade were supposed to be the clutch performers (think of their demolition of the Chicago Bulls), they’re lousy compared to the rule of one. . . Dirkules.

Dirk has scored a combined 52 points in the fourth quarter. LeBron? Embarrassing. After zero points in the final quarter in Game 4, he scored only two meaningless points in Game 5. Total for LBJ in five games: 11 points. In Game 5’s last six minutes, LeBron missed two of three shots, had zero assists, zero rebounds, and one turnover.

The Bavarian Bomber blitzes. Big D bombards. The King is dead. DALLAS WINS!!!

Well…. Not so fast. Although the Game 5 winner has gone on to claim the trophy in 19 out of the 26 times after a 2-all score, “Miami 2011” hopes to do a come-from-behind like “Los Angeles 2010.” Possible? Yes. In Hollywood, anything is possible. In Miami? Only if LeBron James rises to the challenge — and up on the air — like Michael Jordan.

It all culminates in tomorrow’s Game Six. Whoever wins the 8 to 10:30 A.M. contest wins the ring. If Miami stops the Dallas momentum, the balance of confidence will shift. The NBA Finals is like a seesaw. 1-0. 1-1. 2-1. 2-2. 3-2.

4-2? ReDirkulous.

Boom Boom

Cebuano boxing aficionados often complain about the slew of nobodies the ALA boxers face each time they fight at the Waterfront Lahug. A First Round knockout. An easy Round 2 TKO. A lopsided, unanimous decision. Not this weekend. Boom Boom Bautista, the most famous boxer representing Cebu and the ALA Boxing Gym, has lost only twice in 32 performances. That’s an impressive 93.75 winning percentage.

Once, he got KOed by Daniel Ponce de Leon. The other fighter to have beaten Rey? Heriberto Ruiz, the shirtless man he’ll be facing on the center-stage three nights from today. Not young at 33 years old, the Mexicano is nine years older than the Boholano.

Boom Boom (fourth from right) with businessman Wally Liu (third from right) and the ALA boxers.. Milan Melindo, Rocky Fuentes, Donnie Nietes, AJ Banal, Mark Melligen and Jason Pagara

Is this good or bad for Boom Boom? Good because Ruiz has been inflicted with thousands more of uppercuts, bloodied noses, wallops, damaged ribs. Bad because of his longevity and experience — and because, mentally, when they eyeball-to-eyeball soon, Ruiz knows he’s won before.

Like in almost all events of the ALA Boxing Promotions — led by the father-and-son duo of Antonio Lopez Aldeguer and his second son, Michael — this will be a crowded, wall-to-wall, SRO-only fight… all eyes on a TKO. This, I predict, will be this island’s Fight of 2011.

Dirk Fever ices Miami’s heat

Dirk Nowitzki’s body temperature read 102 degrees Fahrenheit. In our usual Celsius reading, that’s 38.9. That’s a high fever. Well, he was high all right; scoring 21 points yesterday, including a game-winning lay-up with 14.4 seconds remaining.

Dallas wins Game 4, 86-83. From a best-of-seven NBA Finals series, it’s now two-out-of-three. The score is 2-2. The whiteboard is a clean slate. It’s back to Square, Game One. All the previous skirmishes — the 82-game regular season, the Eastern and Western Conference Finals, the Heat’s dramatic loss in Game 2 — all these no longer matter. What matters is, Philippine time, the mornings of Friday, Monday, and, possibly (and hopefully), Wednesday.

“He did everything that he could possibly do,” said Mavericks coach Rick Carlisle, of his 7-foot German center, Nowitzki. “The ball was moving to other people; he was creating when he could create. I love the way he played. Fighting through that was not easy.”

It was another come-from-behind Dallas win. Miami led by nine points early in the fourth quarter. And didn’t we previously think that the Heat, in the final 12 minutes, was unstoppable, right? Wrong. For the man who wronged the most yesterday — LeBron James – was the best player of the Finals. Was. Because LeBron scored only eight points — breaking a streak of 433 regular- and post-season games when he scored double-digits. It was his first lowly number in 90 playoff games. Worse, he took only one shot in the last quarter. (In his career, when LeBron scores 15 or fewer points, his team is 0-7.)

Pagkatoytoy, as Bobby Nalzaro would say it.

“The fact that it happened in a loss is the anger part about it,” LBJ said. “That’s all that matters to me. If I’d have had eight points and we won the game … I don’t really care about that. The fact that I could have done more offensively to help our team, that’s the anger part about it for myself. But I’ll come back in Game 5 and do things that need to be done to help our team win.”

Game 5, of course, will be the most crucial of the entire NBA season. If Miami wins, it’s Game Over. With the final two encounters scheduled in South Beach, Florida, they’ll have two chances to win for James and Bosh their first-ever NBA rings. But, if Dallas wins, this concert turns electrifying. A Game 7 can happen, like last year when the Lakers bested the Celtics in the NBA’s very last game.

I’m for Miami. But, for the sake of prolonged excitement, I’d like Dallas to claim victory tomorrow, with the extended hope that LeBron nails the championship-winning shot in Game 7 — much like Boom Boom’s knockout punch this Saturday. Go… Boom and ‘Bron.

10 points on Rafa’s 10th major

Roger Federer should have won that first set. He led 5-2. He owned a set point. But, after missing a drop-shot by millimeters, he lost the next five games. Had Roger won that set, we never know…

But now we know. We know that, after the first 63 minutes were his, Rafael Nadal was invincible. He started jumping, lunging, fist-pumping. Vamos! reverberated throughout Stade Roland Garros.

Head-to-head, Rafa has won 17 of the 25 occasions that he and Roger have played. At the French Open, the record is 5-0 (including four in the Finals). On clay, it’s 11-2; hard-court, 4-all; on grass, Roger leads 2-1. And the most telling of all statistics: in Grand Slam finals, Rafa owns a 6-2 winning edge.

(AP/Lionel Cironneau)

It’s obvious that, between the two, Nadal is better. So why, you ask, is Federer universally proclaimed as The Best Ever? All this chatter, of course, is pointless. RF fans will forever defend their man; so will RN devotees. Rafa himself addressed this issue, saying, “When you talk about these statistics, when you try and make these comparisons, really it’s not very interesting to me. I’m very happy with what I have, with who I am. I’m not the best player in the history of tennis. I think I’m among the best. That’s true. That’s enough for me.” Roger offers his own analysis: “He plays better against the better ones, and that’s what he showed today. He’s a great champion, on clay especially.”

What did we witness last Sunday? I cite 10 thoughts after observing the 10th Slam victory…

One, the Roger v. Rafa Rivalry is one of sport’s most compelling. No other one-two contest (Borg-McEnroe, Ali-Frazier, Palmer-Nicklaus) can compare. The contrast in personalities. The styles and spins of play. The emotions: cool vs. combative. These are incomparable. And a message to all tennis fans that, should one have the resources, they ought to watch them play “live” before they retire.

Two, on court, if it’s Rafa’s forehand against Roger’s backhand, the outcome is as obvious as Pacquiao-Marquez III. The lefty wins. Roger has to find a way to avoid such ping-pong, cross-court exchanges.

Three, the tenacity of the Spaniard is unfathomable. His doggedness, resolve, and fortitude — more than his whipping forehand topspin or 100-meter-dash speed — gifts him victory. Tennis is mental. He who grits his teeth harder and wants it more pockets the $1.7 million prize money.

Four, defense wins the game. Watch the NBA. Listen to Coach Yayoy Alcoseba and to LeBron James & Co. “Defense is the key to success,” they’ll voice out in unison. Same with tennis. Nadal’s retrieval prowess — his ability to return a shot that, to anybody else on the ATP Tour, would have been a point lost — makes him greater than Bjorn Borg on clay.

Five, Roger is only 29. Which means he’s not 30 – a “psychological barrier” age when tennis pros (who’ve played since six years old) are on decline.

Six, the question is: Can Rafa, now with 10 majors, surpass Roger’s 16? At 25 years old, he’s five years younger. That’s about 20 Grand Slam title opportunities. He can if…

Seven… his body doesn’t complain. No body is subjected to more excruciating torture than Rafa’s 188-lb. frame. He slides, stretches, smashes, swings, sprints… suffers. Injury can derail his pursuit more than Federer Express.

Eight, Rafa can win despite “playing ugly.” Rafa almost lost. In the first round against John Isner, he was down two sets to one. Had he been defeated, that would have ranked as the greatest upset of all time. But he kept afloat. He survived. “The real Rafa is both the Rafa who wins and the Rafa who plays well, and the Rafa who suffers and doesn’t play that well,” said Nadal. “You have to face this situation.”

Nine, had Rafa faced Novak in the finals, he’d have lost. I think so. Roger’s backhand is his weakness. Not Novak. His two-handed shot causes grief to Rafa. That’s what caused defeat to the Mallorcan in the last four Final meetings they had.

Ten, I can’t wait for Wimbledon…..

Love Triangle: Roger spurns Novak for Rafa

A funny thing happened in this 2011 French Open. Everybody forgot about Roger Federer. All the focus was on Mr. Djokovic. All the talk was on Rafa’s quest for a sixth trophy. Who’s Roger? Is he still alive? In this planet? Playing tennis? Well, he happens to be the only living (and, yes, non-living) male person to have won 16 Grand Slam singles titles. He won on the Parisian red clay in 2009. He won an Olympic doubles gold medal in 2010. He is, almost unanimously, the best hairy, male player who’s gripped a tennis racket.

And, during the past two weeks in Paris, like a stealth bomber that’s hidden from the radar view, he was silent, unseen, moving, targeting, and now, all of a sudden, he’s out in the open, in the Finals, and within sight of the prize.

Less pressure. Compared to Rafa and Novak, the Swiss had it easier. He’s relegated to a world ranking of # 3. That’s a lowly position that RF had not stooped down to since, when, 2002? Yet, all this is working for the good. For Roger’s good. Because elite, world’s-best athletes need an extra boost of motivation to allow them to climb beyond Mount Everest’s peak – and this is it for Roger.

Neglected, ignored and, yes, disregarded as a 30-year-old (in August 8) has-been former-superstar whose star has faded, this abandonment Roger is using to spark himself.

COME ON!!!!!!! I’ve never, in over eight years of observation, seen him pump his fist and shout “Come On!” as many times as now. He’s feeding off this omission by the media — myself included — and using it to power his smash. You think I’m gone? I’ll prove you people wrong! he’s mentally saying.

Did you see his annihilation of Novak? He served 18 aces. He fired his forehand down-the-line. He snapped his backhand cross-court. He gracefully performed drop shots. He attacked. He was unafraid to exchange shot versus shot against the Serb. “I really wanted to make it as physical as possible,” which I was able to make happen,” said Roger.

Because of RF’s win, the happiest man in Paris today is… Rafa… the arch-rival but best friend of Roger (you should see their YouTube video, giggling and joking for endless minutes while filming an advertisement).

Had Djokovic entered the finals, he’d have been world No.1 when the new ATP rankings are released tomorrow, Monday. Roger prevented that. And he did so during Rafa’s 25th birthday last Friday. Best friends help each other. Roger did his part. Will Rafa return the favor, losing to his similar 6-foot-1, Nike-fully-clothed amigo in tonight’s Grand Finale (at 9 P.M., PHL time)?

Ha-ha. It’s like LeBron James asking Nowitzki, “Hey, Dirk, can you pleeeease give me a chance and give me my first NBA ring?” (Dirk’s reply: ‘Bron, me, too. I’ve never won a title!)

And so we’re back to one of the greatest rivalries in history. “I have another opportunity to beat Rafa here and get the Roland Garros title,” said Roger. “I’ve got to play some extraordinarily special tennis. I’m aware of that. But I obviously took a huge step today, and hope I can get everything together for the final.”

My pick? I’ve always attempted to stand on neutral ground when these two play. Roger is an exquisite, Swiss-cool, one-handed-backhand-hitting, effortless, injury-less gentleman. Rafa is animalistic, bull-like, tenacious-beyond-compare, humble yet ferocious. The two — apart from having collected 21 of the last 24 Grand Slam singles titles since 2005 — also share a loftier accolade: they are two of the most courteous, good-mannered role models in entertainment.

So I pick… “R.” Once, in a Casino Español luncheon with Frank Malilong on one side as Rafa’s Cebu-based attorney and Moya Jackson, Chinggay Utzurrum and Michelle So on the opposite end as I’m-In-Love-With-Roger lifetime members, it was a cross-fire worse than Mayweather, Sr. and Freddie Roach.

Seriously, as inspired as Roger is by his twin daughters, I’d pick RN. A winner in 44 out of 45 matches in Roland Garros, he’ll add a sixth crown past 12 midnight tonight. Vamos.

I went to North Korea — almost

SEOUL, KOREA–This city is huge. Next only to Tokyo, it owns the title of “the world’s second largest metropolitan area” with 24.5 million people. About half of the entire population of South Korea reside in the Seoul National Capital Area — an expanded version of the City of Seoul, much like Metro Cebu or Metro Manila.

Seoul is expansive and vast. In the three nights that we stayed here, we traveled to several places. In almost each stop, traveling time takes 30 to 45 minutes — and the roads are eight-lanes-wide. Traffic exists, but not much. Vehicles move. Everybody here moves. Fast.

Apart from meeting prospective business partners (the Philippines has about 120,000 Koreans), we visited, last Tuesday, the most popular tourist site of the peninsula: North Korea. No, we did not step inside the most confined and repressive nation on earth — that’s disallowed and would mean lifetime imprisonment (and possibly torture; remember Pierce Brosnan as James Bond in Die Another Day?). But we — Dondi Joseph, Joe Soberano, my dad Bunny and myself — did get the chance to be as close as possible to this nation that’s oddly (or shall I say, wrongly-named) “Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.”

We went to the DMZ. That’s the De-Militarized Zone, about 40 minutes from hotel in Downtown Seoul. At the DMZ, we watched a video of the war between the two Korean sides in 1950 that claimed about four million lives. We traversed the 3rd Tunnel, walking down over 300 meters below sea level. The location was called the Joint Security Area. As is expected, the “38th Parallel” is the most militarized border in the world.

The day prior to DMZ, we had a whole day of business gatherings with the PHL Ambassador to South Korea, Luis Cruz. Dr. Bernard Villegas spoke. So did the officials of KEPCO, one of the world’s biggest energy firms — and one who has three power plants in our soil, including two in Cebu (Naga).

Food? Since I love spicy dishes, I’m at home here. Kimchi, “shabu-shabu,” and many more that perspire you while you sit and dine… these abound here. After the DMZ experience, our four-person Cebu group got hungry. It was 2 P.M. Scouring through the inner roads, we found a small, home-like restaurant. It was our best meal here; seafood soup, mackerel fish (much like our “buwad”), beef Bulgogi with noodles — it was perfect.

John, Bunny, Dondi and Joe

Rotary? Since Joe Soberano (the president of the Rotary Club of Cebu) and I (the president of the Rotary Club of Cebu West) were together, we had Rotary work to perform. The Rotary Club of Goyang, an organization of over 100 members, has an existing sister-club relationship with RC Cebu. Joe, Boni Belen (an RC Cebu past president), my dad and I joined their meeting two nights ago. It was formal. Everybody wore a suit. From 7 to 8 P.M. inside RC Goyang’s own office space, Joe sat at the presidential table and gave a speech. The Philippine anthem was played. We proudly placed our right hands on our hearts. After the serious Rotary ceremonies, it was off to dinner at a Korean establishment.

We had three types of alcohol (soju, their famous wine; another type that I couldn’t decipher; and Cass beer). We had crabs, duck, some form of octopus, plenty of kimchi, and an overdose of spicy dishes. From the seriousness of no-smiles of the Rotary meeting, the dinner was boisterous. The Koreans, no doubt — as reflected by their work ethic and status as a First World Nation — know both: they work hard and are serious, but they also relax, drink and revel in the opposite, fun-side of life.

Sports? Sadly, I can’t report much. I did see the Olympic Stadium, built when this nation hosted the 1988 Games. We also passed the FIFA World Cup Stadium. Too bad I did not get a chance to step inside both. Baseball is No.1 here. While I previously mentioned that Football was tops, I believe the game of mitts, backstops, bunts and sacrifice flies, is the top game here.

In all, the “Soul of Asia” is terrific. If only their cable TV showed the French Open, it would be near-perfect.

From the War Memorial of Korea

Former Pres. Fidel Ramos’ actual military gear that he wore during the Korean War

Seoul Photos

Joe, Dondi, John and Bunny with the Joint Security Area guards

Baseball stadium

1988 Olympic Games stadium

With Phil. Ambassador to South Korea Luis Cruz

Our Philippine delegation

A visit to the Seoul of Asia

SEOUL, KOREA–I arrived in this mega-city of 10 million people last Sunday night. Considered one of the Top 10 global cities in the Global Cities Index, with brands like Hyundai, Kia, Samsung, and LG calling this home, Seoul is high-tech. Internet speed? “They have 10 times the speed, the fastest in the world,” said Boni Belen, one of my companions in this trip. “While ours in Cebu, for example, is 2 MBPS, theirs is 20 MBPS. But, their pricing is four times cheaper!”

Yet, for all the prosperity and technological advancement of Seoul, me and my 14 companions were met with puzzled looks when we turned on our mobile phones upon arrival at the Incheon airport. Our phones don’t work here! Or, at least, our SIM cards are useless. This is unusual. In almost every nation I’ve been to, the moment you switch on your phone, telecom companies swarm your message boxes, asking you to pick their network. Not here. It appears to be a closed cellular network — and you’ve got to rent phones and use their system. Weird. Not Wired.

One more thing: there’s no French Open. Ouch. I’m here from Sunday until Wednesday late evening and will miss the every-night excitement that’s now playing in Paris. We’re checked-in at the Pacific Hotel and while the cable TV offers more than 50 channels, none include what this tennis fanatic yearns for. Two channels broadcast the UFC. They showed the Monaco Grand Prix. There’s a Golf HD channel. Korean baseball, of course. There’s CNN. They even replayed the Champions League finale won by Lionel Messi. But no Parisian red clay.

Seoul is the soul of Asia. That’s what they say. I’m here as part of a 15-man delegation of businessmen that’s headed by Dr. Bernardo Villegas, one of the country’s top economists. Dr. Villegas heads the Univ. of Asia and the Pacific in Manila. He heads our Business Mission delegation to Korea.

From Manila, there’s Jesus Zulueta, Gerry Abello, Jimmy Ortigas and several more. From Cebu, we are five: my dad Bunny, Joe Soberano, Dondi Joseph, Boni Belen and myself. We are to meet Korean business leaders and exchange notes (and calling cards) with the hope of conducting future business. In the field of tourism and English education, we know that hundreds of millions of them (OK, that’s an exaggeration; about 12,000 will study ESL in Cebu this 2011. So much for business-talk…

Now, food talk. Our first dinner — it was 10:30 P.M. (they’re one hour ahead compared to PHL) here last Sunday; temperature: 18 C — was funny not because of the spicy octopus that we ate but because of our bill. There were eight of us who dined in a cozy Korean restaurant and, would you believe, our bill was 175,000! Yes. No kidding. But that’s 175,000 Korean Won. No, it’s not One Peso is to One Korean Won — that would be a dinner more expensive than Pres. GMA’s in New York. But it’s P1 = 25 Won. So the dinner wasn’t extravagant; about P7,000. But imagine the shock of hearing 175,000!

Now, on to my game… Sports is major, major league in this land. Back in 1988, the Summer Olympics was held in Seoul. It was only the second time (apart from Japan in 1964) that an Asian nation has hosted the Games. (Beijing followed in 08-08-08.)

Cebu? The Philippines? Next to host the Olympics? Ha-ha-ha. Another joke. The 2002 FIFA World Cup was another giant event that the Koreans hosted (together with Japan). Brazil won the title, beating Germany, 2-0, but the real winner was South Korea, who reached the semi-finals out of 32 teams. My guess is that football, especially after that 2002 World Cup, is the most popular game in this nation of 50,000,000. Their version of the Azkals have millions of fanatics as rabid as our own.

Taekwondo is their national sport. In Korean, “tae” is defined as to “strike using foot,” “kwon” means to “strike using the fist,” and “do” is a “method or art.” The art of kicking and punching. That’s taekwondo; and this Olympic sport is rated by many as the world’s most popular martial art.

Boom-Boom: The Ray Mancini of Cebu

Rey Bautista woke up at 5 in the morning last Friday. He stretched, got dressed, laced his running shoes, and stepped out of the Nasipit, Talamban location of the Antonio Lopez Aldeguer Gymnasium. It was 6 a.m. After two hours of slow-jogging, he returned to the ALA dugout, where he’s slept and resided for over nine years now.

“Wala ko ma-hadlok (I’m not scared),” said the boxer known as “Boom Boom.” The “hadlok,” or scare, refers to Heriberto Cuate Ruiz. Out of the 32 men that Bautista has faced on the square-shaped stage, B-B-B has won 30 fights (23 by knockout) — and he’s lost only twice, to Daniel Ponce de Leon and to Ruiz.

I am not a boxer. I do not know the dizzying effect of a right hook, a stabbing left wallop or a jaw-breaking uppercut. Bautista experienced those. In his Nov. 22, 2008 loss to Ruiz — via unanimous decision with the judges’ scorecards of 80-70, 78-72 and 77-73 — our Boholano was castigated by the Mexicano.

Yet…. Wala ko ma hadlok. That’s the confident statement of Bautista, with just 13 evenings to go before his Part II encounter vs. Ruiz.

“I am focused now. I am in great condition,” said Boom-Boom. “In our first fight, wala ko sa sakto na huna-huna (I was not in the proper frame of mind). The main reason was because of my painful hand. Timing lang gyud to.”

That left hand injury was diagnosed as “a rotten bone” on his wrist. Bautista had surgery following that fight and, according to reports, had that rotten wrist bone replaced from another bone from his hip. It took one year before Bautista fought again. That fight was in 2008. The rehab, in 2009. We’re 2011. Time elapses. Wrist wounds heal.

I asked Boom Boom about his nickname. “It was Sir ALA (Tony Aldeguer) who came up with that name,” he said. “My style, said Sir ALA, resembled that of the original Boom Boom — the one with the same first name as me, Ray Mancini. And so I was nicknamed “Boom Boom.”

Rey was only 17 then. He’ll turn 25 eight days after the June 11 fight… on June 19. What birthday gift will you reward yourself if you win? I asked. Boom Boom chuckled. Because as serious as Rey Bautista has been in training, off the boxing court, he is relaxed, even funny.

I’ve experienced this first-hand. The past few months, we’ve been together on several occasions. As president of the Rotary Club of Cebu West, I invited the entire top-notch stable of ALA Gym fighters to our Tuesday night meeting. This was last December.

Surrounded by Donnie Nietes, Mark Melligen, AJ Banal, Z Gorres, Jason Pagara, Milan Melindo, and Rocky Fuentes — an All-Star cast from the A-team of Aldeguer, one man stood out as the most popular. He’s from Candijay, Bohol and stands over 5-foot-6.

Boom Boom, in the Q & A portion of that Rotary night, laughed a lot. He’s a joker. And, later that evening, he showed his being a ladies man by cozying up with our club assistant, Ms. Emma Gallos.

A month or so later, Boom-Boom joined our meeting again. Afterwards, we partook of yoghurt ice cream at John Young’s yoghurt bar. Justin Uy was there. So was Johnny Siao. We stayed up past 10:30 p.m.

Then, during the Davis Cup tennis weekend last March, there was an open-to-the-public sparring session at Parkmall. Boom-Boom shook hands with the tennis team. Then, in one unscripted but unforgettable moment, the two famous men — Boom Boom and Cecil Mamiit of tennis — stood at the center and, with similar heights and muscular builds, stared eyeball-to-eyeball, as if all-set to fight. Laughing ensued. It was fun. Boom Boom, as intense as he is when the fight nears, has fun. He’s funny.

With Cecil Mamiit

With Johnny Arcilla

Let’s all pray that, two Saturdays from today, when the jampacked Waterfront Cebu City Hotel and Casino gets a rousing entrance parade — with matching “Boom Boom Pow” loud music in the speakers — that Bautista will entertain the Cebuanos via a KO win.