The night Nonito got axed. By Rachel Donaire

Something was in the air that night. I don’t know
what it was but seeing Walters come out to the
ring that night sent shivers down my spine that I
never had. Still I had enough confidence that
Nonito had trained for this fight. He had, for
example, left our home for 2 months for this
camp, settling for when I had the strength and
energy to come and visit for the weekend with
Jarel in tow. But Walters looked so big that
night. And as he took some of the hardest shots
Nonito threw, I knew we were in trouble. Nonito
had played by the book the first 2 rounds. He
was calm and stuck to the game plan. But
smelling an injured Walters, Nonito decided to
throw caution to the wind and go all out in the
third round which proved a costly mistake.
Trading with a much bigger opponent, punch for
punch, Nonito got caught with an uppercut and
went down for the first time in his career. My
heart sank. I screamed and jumped out of my
seat with Jarel in my arms. He wailed at my first
jolt out of my seat and clung to me for dear life.
I tried to rock him. I felt bad I scared him but
couldn’t contain myself. Seeing the tears run
down his face, I promised I would maintain my
composure. It took a bit but he nestled his face
into my shoulder and hid for the next couple
rounds. I wanted to hold him tight and tell him
everything was going to be perfectly okay for
Papa, but I couldn’t because I didn’t want to lie.
The next couple of rounds my stomach was in
knots. Seeing him bleed was one thing. I had
seen that before. But seeing his game
deteriorate minute by minute because he hadn’t
regained himself from the 3rd round knock down
killed me. I know he would keep battling Walters
until the end. And that he did.
Nonito hit the canvas in the 6th round and it
hurt. To see someone you love so much and
believe in so much struggle to get up and there’s
nothing you could do…it tore me apart. The ref
waived the fight off and I put my head down to
pray there was nothing permanently wrong. My
sister held Jarel and asked if I was going to go
into the ring. I knew better. I knew security
would stop me without a credential and I would
be more of a distraction to all the medical
people than a help.
I had knots in my stomach. I felt nauseous. I
looked at Jarel, stroked his face and smiled and
said, “Its Ok Baby, Papa will be ok.” I couldn’t
hold him and walk because I felt sick. But the
sickness was not just from what I just witnessed,
but from a combination of holding composure
together for my sons, both of them. Jarel, safely
in my sisters arms, was ok as long as it seemed
Mommy was ok. My other son, the other in my
womb, felt and saw more of what was really
inside Mommy’s heart. I knew with all the
emotions, all the hormones, running through my
body if I let out one tear for the pain my husband
went through, I wouldn’t of been able to control
myself. I knew I had to keep everything in
control, in addition to the fact that high stress in
the first trimester would be detrimental to the
baby. The cold stare everyone mentioned on
social media…was a mantra in my head playing
over and over again in complete trance and
concentration: “Nonito’s ok. You’re ok. Relax.
Breathe.” Never once through the whole ordeal
did I think of anything or anyone else. My only
priority was Nonito, Jarel, and our unborn son. I
laughed at the comments I saw that’d I’d be
leaving my husband soon or that they wanted to
see me cry. How sad these people’s lives that
they need to focus solely on my expression and
state of mind. *And let me leave that to say…
nothing. Keyboard warriors have always been just
that. Sad.
That night was a nightmare and a gift. I’ve been
in the fight game and have respected every
player that steps into that ring. For the last 14
years, Nonito has been blessed to not be on the
receiving end of a knock out. Every opponent
who he has knocked out, we have always given
due respect. Even other fighters that have been
knocked out, we have never ridiculed because it
is not a laughing matter. So what was the gift
you ask? That he walked away unscathed and
with more knowledge than he could have attained
at the gym. He realized that he was moving up in
weight too fast and thankfully he got up from
that knock out with minimal injuries. Any weight
higher could have been more severe. He also
realized for the need of more of everything in his
camp.
We had a very long and honest conversation
when he was ready because he knew I wouldn’t
sugar coat anything. And I told him the truth. I
already see a change in him, a change for the
better. He started training already, without even
a fight date. He sought out off season
conditioning coaches, nutritionists, and the likes
to make him better between camps and stronger
during camps. He’s meal prepping, eating more
often…I could go on and on but unless you knew
how he trained before it wouldn’t make a
difference. The point is, the only failure would be
if he never learned from this experience..
If he decided to hang his gloves I wouldn’t be
disappointed or mad at him. In 14 years, he’s
fought the best in his divisions. He’s conquered
5 weight divisions, fought 11 or so champions
and former champions, and took on any
challenger, whether to his detriment or not. He’s
gotten Knockout of the Year, Fighter of the Year,
and took home beautiful belts. He also lost his
belts to a former Olympian and gotten tkoed.
Outside the ring, he’s fought with his parents
and reconciled with them only to be stronger.
He’s outted several media personalities that
disagreed with him and/or disrespected his
family. He gave money to Ondoy Typhoon
victims, sang, danced and joked on tv, and turned
around and helped bag items for Red Cross. He’s
been honest to a fault sometimes. Telling it like
he feels and often being misunderstood. But
that’s always been us. We aren’t running for
politics and trying to garner popularity. We say
thinks honestly by our actions and words. He’s
walked the red carpet the day after grocery
shopping at Seafood City. And above all, he’s
held God and St Michael close to his heart. He’s
been a faithful husband and the best father I can
ever ask for to Jarel. He’s been my best friend
for 7 years. I’ve seen him come from no money
to becoming very responsible in decisions. I’ve
seen his priorities evolve from new shoes to
saving college tuition for our children. All I know
is whatever he decides I’ll always be proud of
him for the journey we have gone through and
how I have seen him grow. This is the journey of
life: ups, downs, sideways, sometimes rough
waters and sometimes smooth sailing to
beautiful sunsets. But it is life. And we are going
to keep riding it until the wheels fall off. ….And
when the wheels do fall off…heck we’ve built
enough strength physically, mentally, and
emotionally with the unity of our family to just
push the damn thing in the direction we want it
to go. Happy 2015 luvs!

This is a good article but surely the title should be called......'The night paragraphs got axed.'

It did not copy paste well for whatever reason. Will fix it tomorrow. Can't be bothered today.

Here you go Raf just copy & paste

Something was in the air that night. I don’t know what it was but seeing Walters come out to the ring that night sent shivers down my spine that I never had. Still I had enough confidence that Nonito had trained for this fight. He had, for example, left our home for 2 months for this camp, settling for when I had the strength and energy to come and visit for the weekend with Jarel in tow. But Walters looked so big that night. And as he took some of the hardest shots Nonito threw, I knew we were in trouble. Nonito had played by the book the first 2 rounds. He was calm and stuck to the game plan. But smelling an injured Walters, Nonito decided to throw caution to the wind and go all out in the third round which proved a costly mistake.

Trading with a much bigger opponent, punch for punch, Nonito got caught with an uppercut and went down for the first time in his career. My heart sank. I screamed and jumped out of my seat with Jarel in my arms. He wailed at my first jolt out of my seat and clung to me for dear life. I tried to rock him. I felt bad I scared him but couldn’t contain myself. Seeing the tears run down his face, I promised I would maintain my composure. It took a bit but he nestled his face into my shoulder and hid for the next couple rounds. I wanted to hold him tight and tell him everything was going to be perfectly okay for Papa, but I couldn’t because I didn’t want to lie.

The next couple of rounds my stomach was in knots. Seeing him bleed was one thing. I had seen that before. But seeing his game deteriorate minute by minute because he hadn’t regained himself from the 3rd round knock down killed me. I know he would keep battling Walters until the end. And that he did.

Nonito hit the canvas in the 6th round and it hurt. To see someone you love so much and believe in so much struggle to get up and there’s nothing you could do…it tore me apart. The ref waived the fight off and I put my head down to pray there was nothing permanently wrong. My sister held Jarel and asked if I was going to go into the ring. I knew better. I knew security would stop me without a credential and I would be more of a distraction to all the medical people than a help.

I had knots in my stomach. I felt nauseous. I looked at Jarel, stroked his face and smiled and said, “Its Ok Baby, Papa will be ok.” I couldn’t hold him and walk because I felt sick. But the sickness was not just from what I just witnessed, but from a combination of holding composure together for my sons, both of them. Jarel, safely in my sisters arms, was ok as long as it seemed Mommy was ok. My other son, the other in my womb, felt and saw more of what was really inside Mommy’s heart. I knew with all the emotions, all the hormones, running through my body if I let out one tear for the pain my husband went through, I wouldn’t of been able to control myself. I knew I had to keep everything in control, in addition to the fact that high stress in the first trimester would be detrimental to the baby. The cold stare everyone mentioned on social media…was a mantra in my head playing over and over again in complete trance and concentration: “Nonito’s ok. You’re ok. Relax. Breathe.” Never once through the whole ordeal did I think of anything or anyone else. My only priority was Nonito, Jarel, and our unborn son. I laughed at the comments I saw that’d I’d be leaving my husband soon or that they wanted to see me cry. How sad these people’s lives that they need to focus solely on my expression and state of mind. *And let me leave that to say…nothing. Keyboard warriors have always been just that. Sad.

That night was a nightmare and a gift. I’ve been in the fight game and have respected every player that steps into that ring. For the last 14 years, Nonito has been blessed to not be on the receiving end of a knock out. Every opponent who he has knocked out, we have always given due respect. Even other fighters that have been knocked out, we have never ridiculed because it is not a laughing matter. So what was the gift you ask? That he walked away unscathed and with more knowledge than he could have attained at the gym. He realized that he was moving up in weight too fast and thankfully he got up from that knock out with minimal injuries. Any weight higher could have been more severe. He also realized for the need of more of everything in his camp.

We had a very long and honest conversation when he was ready because he knew I wouldn’t sugar coat anything. And I told him the truth. I already see a change in him, a change for the better. He started training already, without even a fight date. He sought out off season conditioning coaches, nutritionists, and the likes to make him better between camps and stronger during camps. He’s meal prepping, eating more often…I could go on and on but unless you knew how he trained before it wouldn’t make a difference. The point is, the only failure would be if he never learned from this experience..

If he decided to hang his gloves I wouldn’t be disappointed or mad at him. In 14 years, he’s fought the best in his divisions. He’s conquered 5 weight divisions, fought 11 or so champions and former champions, and took on any challenger, whether to his detriment or not. He’s gotten Knockout of the Year, Fighter of the Year, and took home beautiful belts. He also lost his belts to a former Olympian and gotten tkoed. Outside the ring, he’s fought with his parents and reconciled with them only to be stronger. He’s outted several media personalities that disagreed with him and/or disrespected his family. He gave money to Ondoy Typhoon victims, sang, danced and joked on tv, and turned around and helped bag items for Red Cross. He’s been honest to a fault sometimes. Telling it like he feels and often being misunderstood. But that’s always been us. We aren’t running for politics and trying to garner popularity. We say thinks honestly by our actions and words. He’s walked the red carpet the day after grocery shopping at Seafood City. And above all, he’s held God and St Michael close to his heart. He’s been a faithful husband and the best father I can ever ask for to Jarel. He’s been my best friend for 7 years. I’ve seen him come from no money to becoming very responsible in decisions. I’ve seen his priorities evolve from new shoes to saving college tuition for our children. All I know is whatever he decides I’ll always be proud of him for the journey we have gone through and how I have seen him grow. This is the journey of life: ups, downs, sideways, sometimes rough waters and sometimes smooth sailing to beautiful sunsets. But it is life. And we are going to keep riding it until the wheels fall off. ….And when the wheels do fall off…heck we’ve built enough strength physically, mentally, and emotionally with the unity of our family to just push the damn thing in the direction we want it to go. Happy 2015 luvs!