The best Christmas

This promises to be one of the best Christmases ever.

Children abound. Noise at an intolerable level. Gifts unwrapped lying on the floor. And it's the 24th already! Dang, I blame myself to be such a crammer.

"I'm at my best when I cram," I declared loudly to my wife as she mumbles again at my incoherent planning. Bah, when do I ever plan? Suddenly I remember even this vacation was not approved until the 1st of this month. Only if she knew. I smiled naughtily.

The clock says 5:57 in the evening.

Old Filipino pop hit blurts outside murmuring romantic nothings to anybody who cares to listen. Jeez! It's cheesy but I confess I do submit myself to the occasional torture of listening to the likes of it abroad. Ironically, to drown loneliness outside, I torture myself by listening to Filipino songs. Or foreign songs rehashed by Filipino artists. Heck, eighty-percent of Filipino songs are rehashed hits. The remaining twenty are from Filipino bands who thankfully are getting to a level where you can be proud of blasting their music even abroad.

An aunt is ready to rock, looking for the Magic Sing. And she is the silent type. Hahaha.

Lechon baboy is going to be here soon. One of the reasons to be home this Christmas. Well, lechon is going to be the star for any season. But on Christmas, it is the wine in fruitcakes. If you know what I mean.

This is not going to be the end of this. I promise to write about this evening on the morning after. Like I said, this is going to be a very special evening.

Enjoy, everyone!

The dalliance

Lately, it has been getting more and more difficult for me to go home early on Wednesdays. Everytime I try to visit her place, I am getting more and more lost in her world. I know it's a bit wrong--knowing that my wife is at home waiting. All the more wrong when my baby Nash is expectantly awaiting for dad's playful embrace.

But how can I resist her?

It is futile to resist temptations like this. The man called Oscar Wilde wisely declares to get rid of temptation is to yield to it. How can I not when the lining of her perfect curve succulently rests into the cup of my palm. To gently touch the bed of where she rests before you bounce her against the same bed is pure joy. The culmination of the suppressed guilty secret smiles in the six days you had waited.

Everything leads to this. Leave all doubts behind. No time for anticipating consequences. Despite common perception, Basketball is not a team sport. It is a dalliance between me and Spalding.

The burden of proof

The number 1 pound-for-pound boxer today ( at least in his mind) has done it again. He has dodged the one foe that many believed can put a spot on his undefeated record.

Bear in mind that once upon a time, Floyd Mayweather Jr was a beast. He used to fight (and beat impressively) the best and the baddest dudes out there. Diego Corrales and Jose Luis Castillo to name a couple. The fight with the former was the fight that put him on the map of pound-for-pound rankings.

A former Olympian, he started his professional career with a chip on his shoulder that carried through his early career. He sought out the best and hardest fights out there. But as the wins piled up apparently the motivation to prove his mettle went south.

After career defining wins over Corrales and Arturo Gatti, the names and the caliber of boxers he fought were cherry pickings with an occasional reputable match here and there like when he fought Zab Judah.

But when the time called for him to step up the plate against boxers many critics feel could give him a run for his money, he ducked.

Shane Mosley. Antonio Margarito (before the hand-wrap fiasco). Miguel Cotto (before he got clobbered by Margarito and ---). Now Manny Pacquiao.

To prove that he's the best, he has to fight the best. There is no excuse of beating around the bushes just to protect an undefeated record.

Ultimately, a boxer is judged by the quality of his opponents. After all, even all-time greats Muhammad Ali and Sugar Ray Leonard suffered defeats. An undefeated record could mean you are good. Or it could mean that you were never really tested.

In Pretty Boy's case, I lean towards the latter. As many angry fans now accuse him of. A chronic ducker.

Forget about his demands about random drug testing, if he were so concerned of it, he would have obliged Zab Judah, Ricky Hatton and Oscar dela Hoya to undergo such tests. His prima donna attitude is not serving him well.

This is not to overlook the possibility of PEDs in boxers today. But Pacquiao has never tested positive in any of the drug tests since he came to prominence. The burden of proof should not lie on him.

The accusation that he has jumped outrageously as a 16 year-old professional campaigning at 108 to where he is now is preposterous considering that when Mayweather was also a 108-pounder at one time, as a 16 year-old amateur.

Where to now?

Many of us fans are still hoping that this match is still going to be done. What with the promise of it being the richest fight in boxing history. Both fighters and the promoters are crazy to turn their backs on this.

More importantly, the legacy that both fighters work so hard for to cement point only to this fight. The respect that PBF has long yearned for from critics and fans can only be rewarded if he willingly does this. No ifs and buts.

In the question of is-he-or-isn't-he-ducking, the burden of proof only lies on the great Floyd Mayweather Jr.