Wrestling with my conscience
January 29, 2006 | 12:00am
Mick Foley was in town recently as part of the promotional build-up for the Feb. 24th and 25th WWE Raw event at the Araneta Center (the 24th sold out, and the 25th, well, on its way). To those who’ve been hiding under a cloud of ignorance or denial, professional wrestling in the form of the WWE has become a sports phenomenon with true global reach. Whether one is talking about the backwoods of some hick Louisiana or Alabama town, the highly urbanized city centers of London, Milan, Beijing or Tokyo, or the living rooms of Angeles, Manila, Davao and Cebu, the inescapable fact is that kids (and adults) all over the world are plugged into WWE. Its theater (even teleserye) masquerading as sports and individual competition – and Mick was the perfect ambassador to send to the Philippines.
As it became common knowledge during his brief stay here, Mr. Foley has been sending money to our country since 1993, helping scholars finish their education, and even being instrumental in the setting up of schools for underprivileged kids. From Cotabato, to as near the Araneta Center as Pasig, Mick has been touching the lives of children he’s never met. A far cry from the clichéd image of a testosterone-fueled, savage beast of an athlete, Mick had humor, wit and charm aplenty, even if he looked like a cross between a human being and a grizzly bear!
While I do watch wrestling every so often, it is primarily motivated by my wanting to relate to my three boys on a subject I know they really enjoy and are absorbed in (No, not the WWE Divas). So, while the ostensible reason for my heading to Gateway was the Mick Foley press conference, I had my three sons in tow, all ready to be cub reporters for the day! And boy, were they ever ready! When the hosts decided to play a quiz game with the crowd for giveaway bags of WWE goodies, it was Luca (six), who immediately raised his hand to the query of naming the three personas that Mick created during his fabled career (Mankind, Dude Love and Cactus Jack). And when they opened the Q&A portion, it was Matteo (11) who gamely asked Mick how often he’d wash Mr. Sock-O (this was the smelly sock Mick would stuff down the mouth of his opponent as a submission move), and elicited laughs from Mick and the knowing audience. The answer? Rarely, and straight from his feet to his rival’s mouth.
To call Mick’s whirlwind three days in Manila a success is like saying the night is dark. Wherever Mick went, crowds went berserk – young children, teenagers, adults – they were all perfectly aware of who Mick was, and wanted a piece of him. I know there are parents out there who abhor WWE, and how this version of organized violence and mayhem has insinuated itself into the hearts and minds of so many kids. Yes, I do have to constantly shout at my boys to stop when they decide to stage their own version of WWE on the bed or trampoline. And of course, I am utterly ignored till someone starts to cry or gets hurt. But I do know it is their guilty pleasure, and to outlaw their watching is about as promising as asking them not to breathe. Among cousins, in school, with friends, there really is no escape from the WWE, and it’s more a matter of having them treat the watching with responsibility. In answer to a reporter’s query, Mick reiterated the WWE policy of reminding everyone of how dangerous their sport is, how it shouldn’t be done at home, that wrestlers are finely honed athletes taking gargantuan, but calculated risks. Risks that no sensible person should be taking at home, or in a set-up that has not been as contrived as the WWE environment.
Of course, saying that to Luca makes "falling on deaf ears" sound like the understatement of the year. He loves to elicit laughs from his brothers by punching me in the crotch, or slamming his elbow on my back when I least expect it. His favorite is John Cena; and the prospects of John, Shawn Michaels, Kurt Angle, current WWE champion Edge, Trish Stratus, the Big Show and Kane, and at least ten other Raw superstars performing live here in Manila, was just too much to withhold from him or his brothers. So yes, come Feb. 25th, I will be at the Araneta, mildly amused by the taunting and shouting that will greet any PA announcement on which wrestler is about to enter the arena. The supreme reward will be watching the open-mouthed faces of the boys as the stars they avidly watch on the tube come to life before their very eyes... and perhaps, I’ll rub that sore spot on my back or elsewhere.
When my boys want a fun-filled days of rides, an amusement park kind of atmosphere, they beg me to take them to Enchanted Kingdom; but if there’s something I dread, it’s the weekend traffic on the South Expressway. So the news that the Euro Star Carnival was being set up at the Fort came as welcome news. I had espied the site slowly coming up and knew that the Carnival would be top of mind for the boys over the holidays, and I’d have to bring them one night.
After enjoying the sumptuous dinner, my boys and I went straight for the rides.
The rides are world-class, of true European standards and my boys were more than happy letting the others gawk while they lined up for the rides.
Luca is six, so the log flume was about the most daring ride that would set his heart aflutter. The others had height requirements and his expectant smile would turn upside-down as he realized even tip-toeing would still place him in the category of "Not this year, buddy!"
Quintin (14), Matteo and I rode the Booster and without doubt, this is one of the truly special rides of the park. Herky-jerky and tossed and turned 360 degrees and strapped like some astronaut, our brains felt like scrambled eggs. I espied Ben and his group looking both amused and worried as Miguel had bravely opted to submit himself to the ride. Rest assured, the safety standards for all these rides are top notch, and efficiently calibrated to still satisfy that thrill-seeking rush. I know because every so often my boys would exclaim, "Poppa, that boy/girl/man/woman who just got off the ride is throwing up... yuck!" And like it or not, that’s about the best advertisement for your rides!
The giant Ferris wheel is just that, a wheel; but its gargantuan size and being all lighted up at night, makes it a true spectacle and beacon for the fun and great time that the Euro Star promises to provide. I know my knees got all weak as we reached and stopped at the apex of the wheel, and Quintin proceeded to rock the carriage and twist us around by turning the wheel at the center of the carriage. Luca and Matteo started moaning, pleading with Quintin to desist as they were getting super dizzy. Got Quintin to stop by threatening him with bodily harm and half-joking that I’d have him eat anything that came out of the mouths of his younger brothers.
As with wrestling, a night at the carnival is, strictly speaking, not my idea of fun. Have reached that boring point in my life when a good book can look more attractive than a smoke-filled night at Citrus or Embassy.
But you put me with the boys, and their simple "Thanks, Poppa, it was fun" or the way they smile and their eyes light up as we recall this ride or this joke, and I’ll endure a hundred Booster rides.
As it became common knowledge during his brief stay here, Mr. Foley has been sending money to our country since 1993, helping scholars finish their education, and even being instrumental in the setting up of schools for underprivileged kids. From Cotabato, to as near the Araneta Center as Pasig, Mick has been touching the lives of children he’s never met. A far cry from the clichéd image of a testosterone-fueled, savage beast of an athlete, Mick had humor, wit and charm aplenty, even if he looked like a cross between a human being and a grizzly bear!
While I do watch wrestling every so often, it is primarily motivated by my wanting to relate to my three boys on a subject I know they really enjoy and are absorbed in (No, not the WWE Divas). So, while the ostensible reason for my heading to Gateway was the Mick Foley press conference, I had my three sons in tow, all ready to be cub reporters for the day! And boy, were they ever ready! When the hosts decided to play a quiz game with the crowd for giveaway bags of WWE goodies, it was Luca (six), who immediately raised his hand to the query of naming the three personas that Mick created during his fabled career (Mankind, Dude Love and Cactus Jack). And when they opened the Q&A portion, it was Matteo (11) who gamely asked Mick how often he’d wash Mr. Sock-O (this was the smelly sock Mick would stuff down the mouth of his opponent as a submission move), and elicited laughs from Mick and the knowing audience. The answer? Rarely, and straight from his feet to his rival’s mouth.
To call Mick’s whirlwind three days in Manila a success is like saying the night is dark. Wherever Mick went, crowds went berserk – young children, teenagers, adults – they were all perfectly aware of who Mick was, and wanted a piece of him. I know there are parents out there who abhor WWE, and how this version of organized violence and mayhem has insinuated itself into the hearts and minds of so many kids. Yes, I do have to constantly shout at my boys to stop when they decide to stage their own version of WWE on the bed or trampoline. And of course, I am utterly ignored till someone starts to cry or gets hurt. But I do know it is their guilty pleasure, and to outlaw their watching is about as promising as asking them not to breathe. Among cousins, in school, with friends, there really is no escape from the WWE, and it’s more a matter of having them treat the watching with responsibility. In answer to a reporter’s query, Mick reiterated the WWE policy of reminding everyone of how dangerous their sport is, how it shouldn’t be done at home, that wrestlers are finely honed athletes taking gargantuan, but calculated risks. Risks that no sensible person should be taking at home, or in a set-up that has not been as contrived as the WWE environment.
Of course, saying that to Luca makes "falling on deaf ears" sound like the understatement of the year. He loves to elicit laughs from his brothers by punching me in the crotch, or slamming his elbow on my back when I least expect it. His favorite is John Cena; and the prospects of John, Shawn Michaels, Kurt Angle, current WWE champion Edge, Trish Stratus, the Big Show and Kane, and at least ten other Raw superstars performing live here in Manila, was just too much to withhold from him or his brothers. So yes, come Feb. 25th, I will be at the Araneta, mildly amused by the taunting and shouting that will greet any PA announcement on which wrestler is about to enter the arena. The supreme reward will be watching the open-mouthed faces of the boys as the stars they avidly watch on the tube come to life before their very eyes... and perhaps, I’ll rub that sore spot on my back or elsewhere.
After enjoying the sumptuous dinner, my boys and I went straight for the rides.
The rides are world-class, of true European standards and my boys were more than happy letting the others gawk while they lined up for the rides.
Luca is six, so the log flume was about the most daring ride that would set his heart aflutter. The others had height requirements and his expectant smile would turn upside-down as he realized even tip-toeing would still place him in the category of "Not this year, buddy!"
Quintin (14), Matteo and I rode the Booster and without doubt, this is one of the truly special rides of the park. Herky-jerky and tossed and turned 360 degrees and strapped like some astronaut, our brains felt like scrambled eggs. I espied Ben and his group looking both amused and worried as Miguel had bravely opted to submit himself to the ride. Rest assured, the safety standards for all these rides are top notch, and efficiently calibrated to still satisfy that thrill-seeking rush. I know because every so often my boys would exclaim, "Poppa, that boy/girl/man/woman who just got off the ride is throwing up... yuck!" And like it or not, that’s about the best advertisement for your rides!
The giant Ferris wheel is just that, a wheel; but its gargantuan size and being all lighted up at night, makes it a true spectacle and beacon for the fun and great time that the Euro Star promises to provide. I know my knees got all weak as we reached and stopped at the apex of the wheel, and Quintin proceeded to rock the carriage and twist us around by turning the wheel at the center of the carriage. Luca and Matteo started moaning, pleading with Quintin to desist as they were getting super dizzy. Got Quintin to stop by threatening him with bodily harm and half-joking that I’d have him eat anything that came out of the mouths of his younger brothers.
As with wrestling, a night at the carnival is, strictly speaking, not my idea of fun. Have reached that boring point in my life when a good book can look more attractive than a smoke-filled night at Citrus or Embassy.
But you put me with the boys, and their simple "Thanks, Poppa, it was fun" or the way they smile and their eyes light up as we recall this ride or this joke, and I’ll endure a hundred Booster rides.
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