Lucky Boots (bet you thought I was kidding)
It was late April of this year. I was on the phone with my friend, Jonathan (Rock and Roll Kids; www.rockandrollkidsonline.com), and we were discussing the upcoming fight between Manny Pacquiao and Ricky Hatton. Who’s been training harder? What round will it end? Are you wearing your lucky boots? He mentioned that he was on his way to the Forum Shops in Ceasars Palace on the strip to get some Pacquiao gear. It sounded like a great idea. I checked online to see what the stores were offering. After half an hour of browsing I came to the conclusion that there really wasn’t anything worth purchasing (due to unexciting designs at rediculous pricing) but I was pretty intent on wearing something new despite the fact that it might possibly throw off the luck factor (we usually watch it at Jonathan’s house, we’ve got semi-assigned seating, he wears his lucky boots and I wear my lucky shirt). With a bit of thought I decided to take the chance and design my own shirt. I wanted to create something I could wear with pride, that contained significance, and something that would hopefully stir some interest. I jumped on the drawing board and within two days I had my design completed on Illustrator and printed at the T-Shirt Diner (http://www.thetshirtdiner.com).
Fight night came and I was ready! I was headed to Jon’s house, food and beer at hand, and most importantly, I was sporting my new shirt. Anxiety and delight flooded my insides as people left and right complimented me on my shirt and inquired how they could get one. It quickly dawned on me that maybe I should consider making t-shirts of the like and sharing it with friends and family. One thought stemmed from another and pretty soon I was formulating what would later become Haribon Republik. But before any of that could happen my shirt had to pass one test. Fight night.
The energy increased in the room as bodies gathered around the TV, everyone leaning forward with anticipation for the fight to begin.
Fully Focused
Thoughts began to race in my head. What if I jinxed the fight by wearing a new shirt? What if I threw off the balance of the universe and Pacquiao loses? What if… (ding, ding, ding). The fight was on. The room exploded into cheers, joyful cursing, and backseat coaching. Round 1 passed by like Conan the Barbarian on a Ducati, frickin’ epic and quite graphic all at the same time! No sooner than we absorbed the violent first round was the second under way. It was just as vicious as the first. Pacquiao was on top of his game. No doubt. Second round was coming to a close and then… BAM! It was over. Knock to the out. Way the hell out. A triumphant chaos exploded in the room. Pacquiao had won. As in, he won so hard it was almost disrespectful how good he was. The camera moved to Hatton who was on the floor in the center of the ring looking quite un-alive. Uh-oh. I think my shirt worked a little too well. Oh crap. Is he… No, he’s moving. And he’s up. The pandamonium detonates a second time. Fight night is a complete success again and so was my shirt.
I gained a new confidence that night and captured a feeling I wanted to share with everyone I knew. It was the pride of my heritage, the love of a sport (and most sports, at that, where friends and family, even strangers, gather and celebrate in the moment), and a peculiar humbleness I felt wearing a shirt I designed that people actually liked. It was positive, enlightening, and a start of something great. This was my inspiration for Haribon Republik.
Phil
Pacquiao Shirt