ON "The Biggest Little Man in the World"

On "The Biggest Little Man in the World" from GC.com

If Genius is madness, then the writer of this article must surely have been a genius.
The writer used a style that, according to my old-world journalist training, was unorthodox. This was a story, not just a mere scoop—not quite biased, not quite untainted either. His approach to the article was different, but all too familiar.
Unlike how most journalistic articles seem desensitized, this paints a picture, rather than just itemizing whatever needs to be known. Personally, I felt like the work raised the reader from mere spectator to an actual part of the piece, imagining, relating to the experience.
The article goes on to relate the evolution of Pacman from his beginning in 1995, to the annihilator that he is now. Pacquiao’s image is even made greater by the author’s explanations of little facts that may be beyond the normal reader’s stock knowledge. He identifies little facts such as the issues most boxers face with weight changes, and even a short (although not so positive) profile of the Philippines and the Filipinos. I eventually got to wondering how this man seems to know so much about Manny. Then the beans spill. He is now Pacman’s chief of staff.

Regret

Yesterday, I met with a friend in Katipunan for a business deal. We had become acquainted while both serving along with the Noy Volunteers last summer. So, between the idle banter and business talk, we were talking about the preparations for today. He was a somebody then, even now in the little fast food joint we were at he looked commanding.

He reeked of expensive cologne. The cap he was wearing was undoubtedly original along with the shades I was partly staring at his eyes through and partly staring at my own reflection. The little crocodile insignia on his chest seemed to be daunting me. But he was cool. I personally had sprayed myself a couple of times with CK cologne, having just come from the rain and a jeepney. I swear I still smelled like wet soil. I knew I looked stressed—thesis and the weather working together. But he was cool with that.

He invited me to the inaugural rights of Noy. He offered me to stay with them in their clique—the cordoned off area with the Barong laden gentlemen. I offered my services, whatever I could do—photograph, run errands, whatever. He offered me a ticket. I felt shy—neither confirmed nor declined.

Later in the day, I had weighed everything and decided to grasp the rare chance, I texted him to ask for the ticket. He had already given them away. “I’m not attending tomorrow, eh. I said yes to a meeting. Kala ko wala ka din kasi. Ü”

I have been living with the phrase Carpe Diem in my heart. And yet, at one of the most crucial moments, I forgot to live it out.