This morning I woke up at 10 AM, just in time to look for a livestream of the Paquiao-Marquez fight for my husband. I found one in a Mexican site.
While waiting for the main event, my dear husband, in turn, grilled the most delicious steak for me.

After lunch, I had planned a shopping date with my youngest son, so I started to get dressed and was ready to go by 1 PM—only to find out that my husband had taken the car and driver to do an errand in Taguig.
While waiting for them to come back, I went upstairs to check the fight. My husband came back shortly (there was no traffic anywhere). I decided to stay longer and told him to come watch with me in bed.

I was sure Manny would win. Of course what Filipino wouldn’t want that.
When Manny Pacquiao fell on Round 3, I was shocked. My husband, a former boxer told me Manny has to be careful because if he falls a second time, it’s over.
When Marquez fell on Round 5, I thought great, it’s even.
But what happened next was something I didn’t expect. I saw Pacquiao fall face down. I sat up from bed and yelled, “Oh my God it’s over!”

(Photo: Al Bello/Getty Images)

The kids ran to the computer screen and asked us to explain.
I saw Jinkee’s face. I had never seen her cry like this. I felt her pain.

It reminded me of Talia Shire in Rocky, when Rocky lost and shouted “Adriiiiian!”
I am no boxing expert (as a couple of Twitter followers liked to point out). To me, Manny looked dead.

I freaked out. The livestream I was watching went dead for a while. The last image I had was Manny was not moving.
Finally it came back on. Manny had gotten up somehow. We turned it off.
I gathered my son and finally went to the mall, but I couldn’t help but feel profoundly sad and angry.

As I went down in front of Shangri-La Plaza, the doorman greeted me by saying, “Talo tayo.”
“Nakakabwiset,” I blurted out. And for the next hour I was in a bad mood and felt like barking at whoever crossed my path.

The first store we went to was a pajama store. Holding Christian by the hand I asked the saleslady to find his size.
The first thing she said: “Pang ilang taon?”
“Anong ilang taon? Just look at him. Can’t you tell what size? What if I tell you he’s ten and he’s a midget??”

She pulled out the 4-year-old pajamas. The top fit Christian very well, but the bottoms were way too long.
“Bakit ang haba?” I complained.
“Ganon talaga ang style,” she answered.
“Ano ba to, pajama ng Swedish children??”

Laughter ensued, but I was not in the mood to laugh and walked out.
I couldn’t erase the image of Manny falling face down and not moving. I just couldn’t take it.
Somehow I finished my errands. We found Christian’s pajamas and other needs at Mothercare, which has excellent service.
We bought fabric and shades for his Christmas program. At Payless we found the brown sandals for his role as a shepherd boy.
Moving in slow traffic on the way home, I couldn’t help but recall certain images that have stuck to my memory through the years, like when Imelda Marcos was stabbed in 1972

Or when Margie Moran won Miss Universe in 1973. They replayed this on TV several times for days. I didn’t realize how dumb the questions and answers were. You have the sipsip answer (Miss USA) and the honest, boring answer (Philippines). It’s a good think she won.

When Ninoy Aquino was killed (1983)

When Princess Diana died (1997)

When John F. Kennedy Jr.’s plane went missing (1999)

When the second plane hit the World Trade Center (2000)

When white smoke signaled the election of a new Pope (2005)

When the tsunami ravaged Sendai (2011)

When Manny Pacquiao fell (2012)

I’m just really glad he didn’t die.
What did you think when Manny fell? What are the TV moments you can’t forget?