Five Thousand pesos.
That was the biggest amount Rey Saludar recalled he has ever slid inside his wallet. This was some time ago after a simmering session inside the gym, long before his shining moment one cold afternoon in Guangzhou, China.
With his victory in the Asian Games came a windfall of 4 Million pesos, an amount too much for his tattered wallet to take.
In fact, it is too much for him to count. Too much to splurge for a life lived so austere that comfort is as strange as luxury. But Rey is one who does not know the meaning of too much. He has worked his ass off since an on-the-breadline childhood finding his way out of depravity. His mind is far engulfed by the fountain of fortune that came with his rousing victory.
“It’s in the bank,” he answered quickly. In fact, he never even got the chance to squeeze the bundle of bills with his prized fist.
It has not sunk in to him how he will spend his money. His mind is set elsewhere—London, 2012.
The 23-year old Asiad gold medallist has his sights on the Olympic gold in 2012—a feat no Filipino athlete has ever achieved. If he wins the elusive gold, that would mean another windfall and an iconic status close to that of a Manny Pacquiao.
Close, but not quite. An amateur will never approximate the wealth and status reserved to an over-achieving professional like Pacquiao.
Will he chase Manny’s path?
“No.” The answer was as quick as his fists. “I will never turn professional. That’s not in my plan. I just wanted to win an Olympic gold and then retire.” Rey said in the vernacular, surprising everyone during his homecoming press conference at the Panabo Gym.
A decorated amateur boxer like him would surely be on every professional boxing promoter’s radar. No luck to the Bob Arums and Golden Boys out there, prize-fighting is not in Rey’s radar.
The seventh child in a brood of 14, yes 14, Rey will shoot for one of the slots to the London summer games in Azerbajian next year. His younger brother Victorio, who won bronze in Guangzhou, will also try to make it to London for the Saludars—fast emerging as the Philippines’ bruise brothers of boxing.
Both Rey and Vic were a product of the Barangay Una boxing program of then Congressman Tonyboy Floirendo and now continued by Congressman Anton Lagdameo of Davao del Norte’s second district. The Saludars joined the Barangay Una stable in 2005 after a long journey out of obscurity and dissoluteness.
As a child, Rey was his father Victorio’s assistant working as farmhands just to make both ends meet in Polomolok. The family owns a six-hectare farm planted to corn but Victorio and wife Vivencia were forced to pawn half of their property in order to feed their children of 10 boys and 4 girls.
Victorio, 53, was a boxing fanatic by heart. Realizing he can form a stable of boxers out of his bunch of boys, he bought a pair of gloves when Rey and his brothers were in their elementary days and trained them to box under his watch and then line them up to fight during weekends at Polomolok’s Boxing at the Park.
Gifted with innate talent and dexterity, his boys started to dominate the fights each Sunday but Victorio soon realized he would not get ample support from the local government to bring his boys to competitions outside town. With the economic pinch in South Cotabato too much for the Saludars, Victorio brought his family to Kapalong in Davao del Norte and try to hook up with the town’s boxing program.
In 2005, the Saludars decided to join Barangay Una and fight under the watch of one of the country’s biggest amateur boxing patron—Tonyboy Floirendo. It was a decision that will soon change the lives of the Saludars.
In 2006, while competing in the ABAP National Tournament in Lanao del Norte, coaches of the National Team were awed by the talent of the Saludar brothers. Rey first joined the ABAP pool with fellow Barangay Una standout Charly Suarez, before his brother Vic joined them later in Manila.
Like most national team mainstays, Rey is an enlisted Armyman but he does not carry a rifle. He fires with his punches atop the squared battlefield, not in the killing fields of Mindanao.
The long road to perdition was etched deeply in Rey’s mind. This is his world. If he were an artist, amateur boxing is his canvas. His white-lined gloves are his brush. His punches were strokes of genius.
For Rey, this gallery is enough to create his masterpieces. He does not need too much. He need not be a Picasso where he is happy as an Amorsolo.
He need not be a Pacquiao—the 8-time world champion and congressman. He is happy being a Saludar. Afterall, greatness and immortality is measured in many ways.
“After my career is over, I can go to the army or return home one day.”
That day, he swears, will be his payback time for boxing. He will return to the barangays of Davao del Norte sharing his boxing skills to those who dare chase a dream like him.
As to his tattered wallet, he does not need a new one when the money he has saved as a simon-pure—albeit not too much compared to a professionals’ millions—is there to ensure a modest and comfortable future to the next generation of Saludars.
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