THE challenger did not chal­lenge. He came to cover his face. And he called that defense. The referee’s right: “Protect your self at all times.” And we thought we had seen the last of cowards in Joshua Clottey.  Remember Clottey? Like Omar Narvaez yesterday against Nonito Donaire Jr., Clot­tey covered his face for all of 12 rounds against Manny Pacquiao a while back in Dallas,Texas. Like Narvaez yesterday against Donaire, Clottey merely climbed the ring to finish the fight stand­ing, losing ludicrously on points.

Afterwards, like Narvaez again, Clottey laughed his way to the bank—clutching $1 million, his biggest paycheck ever. Clottey next went home to Af­rica and retired to become one of the richest citizens in his tribe— was it in Ghana? Ah, who cares? Narvaez could also be ripe for pastureland. He is 36. With his $250,000 purse he stole yesterday in his sleeper of a fight with Donaire ($750,000), Narvaez could live a lifetime of comfort—with his end­less stock of Argentine corned beef keeping him company.

Ah, boxing. It never fails to con us. What gave Narvaez the right to fight Donaire? He was supposed to be called “The Hurricane.” Very true. He was a hurricane in avoiding Donaire. Narvaez was unbeaten in 37 fights (19 knockouts)—two ended in draws—before he faced Donaire (26-1, with 18 KOs). With the way he fought yester­day, Narvaez wasn’t even worthy of being called unbeaten, much less be considered a winner by knockout in 19 of his 35 wins. Ah, wasn’t Freddie Roach who said Narvaez’s record was sus­pect? Before the fight, Roach, Pac­quiao’s brilliant American trainer, said, “I’m impressed. But if Nar­vaez’s victims were mostly taxicab drivers, I won’t be surprised.”

Sometime ago, a guy named Edwin Valero was unbeaten in so many fights—maybe 21 fights. He won them all by knockout. When people started talking Valero could pose a serious chal­lenge to Pacquiao, and the Pac­man could be in trouble if it ma­terialized, Pacquiao said, “Maybe, his victims were all tricycle driv­ers.” Too bad Valero’s career—and life—ended tragically. He com­mitted suicide only recently while in prison for domestic violence.

Ah, life. It is not to be lived, re­ally, but is a journey. I don’t know what’d be next for Narvaez after surrendering all 12 rounds yesterday as Donaire waltzed to a unanimous decision victory. Will he return to his 112-lb and 115-lb divisions and continue his farce-fraught reign there? You know, he has successfully defended his crowns 16 times the last 10 years or so.

I guess that’d be a good idea— but only if he struts his wares in Argentina and doesn’t come to New York again. Muggers in New York’s notori­ous back alleys might spring him a surprise he’ll regret for the rest of his life. Ah, the sucker in us. We buy rotten shows disguised as Broad­way hits. If not for Pacquiao, indeed, boxing’s long been gone to the dogs.

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Soon, Sonsona will be champ again (Abridge column of “General Admission” that appeared in Sun­day PUNCH in Dagupan City.) THE young and the restless— they are as carefree as moths. It’s been like that all this time, from Achilles to Palaris. They fade young, if not die young. Their courage knows no fear, defies danger like true SWATs. Of recent example is Marvin Sonsona. He was once dubbed Marvel­ous, lifted from Marvin “Marvel­ous” Hagler. Hagler was the best fighter of his time.

That’s because at age 18, Son­sona fought beyond his age. Barely had he turned 19 when Sonsona became a world champ. How many under-twenties have made it to the summit of beak-busting? Not even Hagler in his heyday in the Eighties. Or Muhammad Ali, the greatest boxer of all time. Sonsona hit the top so early because he is gifted. Anybody disputing that can be guilty of atheism. For, to be gifted is to be favored by God. God works in mysterious ways but spotting one similar to a teacher’s pet is chicken feed. No mystery there.

The first time I saw Sonsona in action, I knew he was a world champ in the making. Not that he comes from a city that produces boxing greats, fore­most among them is Manny Pac­quiao. God loves GenSan that much He gives us not one Pacquiao but several Pacquiaos? For, aside from Sonsona and Pacquiao as sons of Gensan, there’s Nonito Donaire, too. Donaire is also presently holding a world crown. But that’s another story. Sonsona was marvelous, in­deed. But, alas, for virtually only a fleeting moment. After winning a world crown, he slipped quickly into oblivion—los­ing his throne in no time when he fell to the vagaries of ego and suc­cess.

The good life gave him a false pride. He grew fat on a diet opposed to his reign. Before he could defend his title, he lost it on the scales. Unbeaten in the ring, he finally lost in February 2010 by a fourth-round knockout. Perhaps, too embarrassed to face the music, he withdrew from public view. Hermitic, no one knew where he was. Then he resurfaced.

“I am a changed man,” he said. On Saturday, October 15, he fought again—18 months after he called it quits. Because he is Mr. Natural, whose in-born skills resemble that of Ali’s, he won—decking Mexico’s knockout artist, Carlos Jacobo, in the eighth en route to a unanimous decision verdict. It was an impressive win. Ja­cobo was on a 13-fight winning streak, the last 10 all by knock­out. The victory likewise restored Sonsona’s old moniker: Marvel­ous. Soon, Sonsona will wear a world crown again. Non-believers, place your bets.