For those of us who are too miserly to get a cable connection, the benefits of Pacquiao bouts take longer to happen. So while the rest of the neighborhood ooh and aah in real time, we misers have to wait for three hours for a delayed telecast that’s generously peppered with five minute advertisements for every three minute round. Some of my housemates retreat with earplugs to the farthest corners of the house to escape well-meaning neighbors intent on spreading the news of the outcome.
But it is impossible not to find out who the victor is before the delayed show. After years of hearing the neighbors howl, weep and recite expletives, it’s easy for every late viewer to develop the skill of determining Pacquiao fight outcomes based on human emitted sounds alone. My father-in-law however has a way of justifying not getting cable for the sake of watching Pacman destroy someone else’s face. He doesn’t mind watching delayed bouts with prior knowledge of the outcome because it’s watching the process of slugging that counts.
In any case, delayed or not, I enjoy Pacman days because everyone’s behaved down here. Pacman brings peace like no other living creature can.
Photo Credit: cooldude