First came the stunning victory of Filipino boxer Manny Pacquiao over Mexican boxing hero Erik Morales. Pacquiao, a poor boy from General Santos City, knocked the daylights out of Morales in the 10th of a scheduled 12-rounder, forcing the referee to stop the fight.
It was a fight that almost every Filipino watched. Based on some accounts, many places across the country were deserted, the people either inside their homes watching tv, or gathered in public places such as malls, theatres and gyms to catch the action on giant screens.
Despite boxing enjoying only a small real following in the Philippines compared to such games as basketball or even cockfighting, the fight of Pacquiao has captured the imagination and attention of the entire Filipino nation. And there is one and only one reason for that.
Not that Filipinos have suddenly turned boxing fans overnight. In fact another Filipino ( what was his name? ) also fought and won on the same card but has largely been ignored. Filipinos watched the fight because they saw in Pacquiao their own inner struggles to prevail.
The Filipino people have become so frustrated everywhere else. Many of the leaders in whom they entrusted their destinies have disappointed them. The few who remained true to their mandate are precisely that - too few to mean anything.
In short, the Filipinos are starving for heroes. They need somebody to carry their fight for them. Pacquiao, of course, cannot carry their real fight. With regard to national aspirations, his battles can only be symbolic.
But for a nation so starved, that is quite enough. And Filipinos could not have picked a better symbolism than a boxing match. A boxing match is essentially a fight. As most everyone who has ever been in one, there is something exhilarating in a fight, something akin to a cleansing.
That is perhaps why people who have been in a fight often emerge as the best of friends. That is because in a fight you expend everything. All the anger, the frustrations, the pent-up emotions - they are all expended, leaving you spent but cleaned.
That was why, for a brief moment, the entire Filipino nation united. The fight cleaned everyone inside out. The spirit of everything that we are went out into that fight and we won. Nothing will beat that exhilarating experience for a long long time.
Then, close on the heels of that experience came another titillating story, catching on to the coattails of January before it can disappear forever into memory. That story deals with the capture of military renegade Nicanor Faeldon and his supposed sweetheart Candy Rivas.
Both are captains in the Armed Forces of the Philippines but both had been on opposite sides of the political fence until fate brought them together. Faeldon had been a mutineer, turning against his government. Rivas was part of the team that prosecuted him and his cohorts.
Sometime before Christmas, Faeldon escaped from military custody along with three Oakwood Mutiny buddies. For more than a month, he eluded capture, until those tracking him switched to tracking Rivas.
Last Friday, military agents tailing Rivas saw her being picked up by another woman at a mall in Malabon City. But the woman kissed Rivas on the lips. That show of affection did them in. The woman turned out to be Faeldon in disguise. The love that sustained them gave them away.
Apparently, Faeldon and Rivas fell in love in the course of his trial. According to newspaper reports, simple eye contact gave way to a more intense relationship. They played badminton, had picnics, and shared occasional nights together on furloughs.
The capture of Faeldon and Rivas eclipsed the story of his escape. Reactions to the escape depended on which side of the political fence you sat. The capture drew a certain sadness from everyone over a beautiful love story caught up in a time of great crisis.