I can’t stop listening to Sun Kil Moon’s Pancho Villa, which is a plaintive reminder of how all too often, great boxers end in tragedy. Please listen to it, even if you have no interest in boxing. Or in bands with odd names.
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Salvador Sanchez arrived and vanished
Only twenty-three with so much speed
Owning the highway
Salvador Sanchez was a 23-year old Mexican featherweight who died one day in 1982, when his Porsche crashed on the highway. In this video, you’ll witness just how talented he was: by the end of the seventh round Gomez has slits for eyes while Sanchez is sitting calmly in the corner of the ring, unscathed. You’ll also see just how much he was loved. There are whistles and deafening shouts of Salvador! as he is carried on the shoulders of several men. He only had one loss during the span of his ephemeral career.
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Pancho Villa would never rest
‘Til 1925 he closed his eyes
‘Til Manila stars would rise
First of all, his name was Francisco Guilledo. All I really know is that he grew up herding goats and beating up the boys in his neighborhood in Negros Occidental, and that he almost retired at the age of 20 after being rejected by a girl. And whereas Cassius Clay renamed himself to emancipate himself, Guilledo had his name taken away from him and was re-christened Pancho Villa by American handlers (who were probably at a loss with how to package this tenacious Filipino fighter—so, um… why not name him after the infamous Mexican revolutionary? Labo.).
The song says he “would never rest”, which is true, considering he was in 105 fights and was never knocked out. 105! (To give you an idea of just how insane this is, Manny P. has been in 52 fights and he’s 29 years old. )You can see some of his fights online: here, he’s fighting the then-flyweight champion Johnny Buff (incidentally, the grandfather of Michael-let’s-get-ready-to-ruuuuuumble Buffer). See him knock Buff down after a barrage of relentless punches and then just walk away. Perhaps this is the most well-known of his fights though,where he defeats Welshman Jimmy Wilde. It’s kind of amusing, how the announcers start with an obvious air of condescension (“the colorful Philippine challenger” daw) and end with utter astonishment–”Jimmy Wilde falls flat on his face, and the crowd is stunned!” For the impatient ones, you can just skip to the 7th minute.
Like Sanchez, Pancho Villa died when he was 23, and his death was equally as sudden and as tragic. Ten days after having an infected tooth extracted, he died of blood poisoning.
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Benny “kid” Paret came a good way
Climbed to the grey sky to raise his hands
Stopped by the better man
And there’s Benny Paret, who went into a coma and eventually died after this fight (This is one of the most heartbreaking things I’ve ever seen in my life.):
Hay.
There are no words, actually. I have to stop myself from objecting to the line “stopped by the better man”. Was Griffith really the better man? His fists were unmerciful, his blows unabating. What do I know, though. Griffith probably still thinks of Paret every single day of his life.* Norman Mailer happened to be there that day, 10 feet away from the two men.
How have they gone? Why have they gone? , Mark Kozelek sings in his sad monotone. Our nation has never lacked valiant fighters in this sport and some go on to have illustrious careers. But for every Elorde, for every Pacquiao, there is a Luisito Espinoza (who, the last time I heard, was separated from his wife, working at Costco and has yet to be paid $130,349 from his previous winnings), an Onyok Velasco. An untimely death is not the only kind of tragedy.
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Anyway. So I’m just here, listening to this song for the 9,273,585,765th time, thinking of them and all the other boxers who will share the same fate, and of Lola with her tiny hands balled up in fists watching the Solar Sports channel, and of playing pusoy dos with Uncle Nonong and Chris while watching Boom Boom Bautista, and of my friend JB, who I still owe a case of beer after a failed boxing bet (but he doesn’t talk to me anymore. I don’t really know why.), and of Francisco Guilledo’s grave in the Manila North Cemetery. I’m thinking of going there on July 14, if I’m in Manila by then. If you listened to the song and clicked all the links, you’re welcome to join me.
*UPDATE: apparently Griffith recently came out of the closet.
