My First and Last Cockfighting Experience in the Philippines-An Update
I wrote these stories years before artificial intelligence became my writing companion. Today, at 91 nearing 92, I am revisiting some of them not to change my memories, but to see what I understand differently after another decade of living.
David Nearing 92: A Filipino Childhood Memory, a Family Adventure, and a Noisy Afternoon at the Cockpit
I was born and raised in the Philippines, where I lived until I was 25 years old. Yet, believe it or not, I had never attended a cockfighting tournament during my childhood or young adult years!
How was that possible for someone who grew up in the Philippines, where cockfighting, locally known as sabong, has been part of traditional Filipino life for generations?
The answer is simple. My parents would never allow it!
My Childhood Memories of Sabong
When I was growing up, my parents gave me strict instructions never to enter a cockfighting arena. If I disobeyed them, I was promised a good beating on my buttocks!
Of course, like many curious boys, I occasionally found ways to satisfy my curiosity without openly disobeying my parents.
My friends and I would sometimes hang around outside the arena, safely beyond its entrance and, more importantly, away from the reach of my parents.
The area outside was almost as interesting to us as the event inside. Vendors sold merienda, the Filipino word for snacks or light refreshments. There were Filipino cakes and other goodies, including balut, the famous Filipino delicacy consisting of a developing duck embryo inside a boiled egg.
We could enjoy the food, watch the people coming and going, and listen to the commotion coming from inside the arena.
Even though I had never seen a cockfight, I can still remember the noise. Whenever a winner was announced, the crowd would erupt in shouting and cheering.
That sound remained in my memory for decades.
Little did I know that, many years later, I would finally enter a cockpit myself.
My First Cockfighting Experience-Almost Six Decades Later!
Fast-forward to our Golden Wedding Anniversary celebration in Marinduque, the beautiful Philippine island that holds a special place in my heart.
During that family visit, my two sons, my son-in-law, and a young man who was then the boyfriend of my niece, my future nephew-in-law made an unusual request.
They wanted to attend a Filipino cockfighting tournament!
These men had grown up in the United States. They had heard and read about sabong, but none of them had experienced it firsthand. They were curious to see this distinctly Filipino activity for themselves.
I had spent most of my life avoiding cockfighting arenas, but here I was, being asked to take my American-raised family members to one!
Naturally, I agreed.
On the first Sunday of their visit to Marinduque, I took them to a local cockpit. We were accompanied by a relative who was an enthusiastic cockfighting fan and, I would say, something of a semi-addict when it came to this bloody sport and gambling activity.
At long last, I was going to see what I had only heard from outside the arena as a boy.
WOW! What an experience!
Welcome to the World of Sabong
(For readers unfamiliar with the Philippines, sabong is a contest in which two specially bred and trained roosters fight inside an arena called a cockpit. Spectators watch the contest, and many place bets on which rooster will win. The fights can result in serious injuries or death to the birds.)
The first thing that struck me was the crowd. I estimated that approximately 300 people were present, and about 99.9 percent appeared to be men. I noticed only three women among the crowd of gamblers.
My son-in-law and my future nephew-in-law were also impossible to miss. They were the only white-skinned men, or gringos, I noticed in the crowd.
My son-in-law was particularly conspicuous. At six feet six inches tall, with his bald head, he stood out like a sore thumb!
I could not help wondering what the other spectators thought of these two American visitors and their Filipino companion, a senior citizen who had somehow managed to avoid a cockpit for most of his life.
Perhaps they were wondering whether we had come to watch the fights, place bets, or simply satisfy our curiosity.
In truth, we had come for all three reasons, although my interest was mostly observational.
Mayron or Wala? What Is Going On?
I soon discovered that understanding the action inside the cockpit required more than knowing which rooster was fighting.
The spectators were shouting their bets almost simultaneously at the bet taker, who somehow managed to keep track of the competing wagers.
It was an astonishing performance of memory, attention, and concentration.
I could hardly understand how one person could keep up with so many people shouting at once. Yet our local relative assured us that an experienced bet taker could distinguish the bets and keep track of the transactions.
There were two opposing sides, identified by the words mayron and wala.
In the local betting terminology I encountered, mayron referred to the side with backing or money offered, while walareferred to the opposing side. The precise usage can vary with the local betting arrangement, so these terms are best understood in the context of the particular cockpit.
When I was growing up, I remembered hearing the expressions sa pula and sa puti—literally, “on the red” and “on the white.” These referred to the opposing sides associated with the roosters' colors.
As I understood it, the terminology used at the cockpit I visited had changed, moving away from the red-and-white distinction toward mayron and wala.
For my American readers, imagine hundreds of people trying to communicate their wagers in a noisy room, with everyone seemingly speaking at the same time. There are no quiet conversations, no orderly line at a betting window, and certainly no opportunity to ask someone to repeat a bet several times!
The shouting, gestures, rapid exchanges, and intense concentration created an atmosphere unlike anything I had experienced before.
I was impressed by the bet taker's apparent ability to manage the commotion. At the same time, I was relieved that I was not responsible for keeping track of anybody's money.
The Moment the Winner Was Declared
The noise became deafening whenever a winner was declared.
It reminded me of the roar of a packed football stadium when a team scores a winning goal, except that the sound inside the cockpit seemed much more concentrated and intense.
I have to admit that my own description of the crowd's reaction may be a little unscientific. It sounded as though a thousand men were experiencing an almost simultaneous moment of ecstasy!
The cheering, shouting, excitement, disappointment, and exchange of money happened so quickly that I could barely follow everything.
I had to cover my ears because the noise was overwhelming.
Interestingly, I found myself more entertained by the behavior of the spectators than by the cockfights themselves. Watching the gamblers was a fascinating study of human nature.
Some appeared confident that their rooster would win. Others watched anxiously. Still others shouted their bets with an enthusiasm that suggested they were risking much more than the price of an afternoon's entertainment.
The moment of victory brought tremendous excitement to the winning side, while the losing side had to accept the consequences of its wagers.
And, of course, there was the rooster that had lost the fight, sometimes fatally.
That was the less entertaining side of the experience.
My Family and Guest Had a Grand Time. I Did Not!
After watching several bouts, I had had enough.
The noise, the heat, the humidity, and the smell of perspiration, what Filipinos call amoy pawis were getting to me.
I decided to step outside the arena, where I could breathe more comfortably and escape the constant shouting.
Meanwhile, my sons, son-in-law, and future nephew-in-law were having a wonderful time. They placed their bets, watched the fights, and enjoyed an experience that was entirely new to them.
At the end of our visit, my son was ahead by approximately $10, while my son-in-law had lost about $15.
These were modest amounts, but the results gave us something to talk about afterward.
My guests had a grand and fantastic time. They had finally experienced a Filipino tradition they had heard about for years.
What about me? I had satisfied my curiosity, but I was not eager to repeat the experience.
We stayed for only about an hour. By then, I had reached my personal limit for noise, heat, humidity, and the atmosphere inside the cockpit.
My verdict was simple: I had seen enough sabong to last me a lifetime!
I will probably never attend another cockfighting tournament.
It was not the gambling alone that bothered me. I simply did not enjoy the atmosphere, the smell, or the spectacle of animals fighting to the death.
If I want to gamble, I prefer a casino, where I can sit comfortably, enjoy the surroundings, and decide when I have had enough. Casino gambling has its own risks, of course, but the experience is very different from standing among hundreds of people shouting their bets at a cockpit.
Cockfighting and Bullfighting: Two Very Different Experiences
My afternoon at the Marinduque cockpit brought back another memory.
About ten years earlier, I had attended a bullfight in Spain.
At first glance, cockfighting and Spanish bullfighting might seem to belong in the same category. Both are traditional spectacles involving animals, and both raise questions about entertainment, culture, and animal welfare.
But my personal reactions to the two experiences were quite different.
I enjoyed the Spanish bullfight, while I did not enjoy the cockfight.
Perhaps it was the setting, the ceremony, the pageantry, or the way the Spanish event was presented. The atmosphere in the bullring felt different to me from the crowded, noisy, intensely competitive environment of the Filipino cockpit.
I recognize that some readers will find my preference difficult to understand. Both activities involve animal suffering, and the fact that I enjoyed one more than the other does not remove the ethical questions surrounding either.
I am simply describing my own experiences and reactions, not claiming that one tradition is necessarily more humane than the other.
Our personal responses to cultural spectacles can be surprising. Sometimes we discover that an activity we expected to enjoy does not appeal to us at all, while another leaves a lasting impression.
What I Learned From My First Cockfight
Looking back, I am glad that I finally experienced sabong, even though I did not enjoy it.
It gave me a better understanding of a practice that I had known only from childhood memories, stories, and the sounds coming from outside the arena.
It also gave my American-raised sons and their companions an opportunity to experience something they associated with their Filipino heritage.
For them, it was an adventure. For me, it was a lesson in how different generations can approach the same cultural tradition from entirely different perspectives.
I grew up in the Philippines, but my parents' strict rules kept me out of the cockpit. Decades later, I entered one willingly, not because I had developed a passion for cockfighting, but because I wanted to share a cultural experience with my family.
I came away with a story, a few amusing memories, and a renewed appreciation for the fact that curiosity does not always lead to enjoyment.
As I approach my 92nd birthday, I continue to believe that travel, family visits, and new experiences enrich our lives. We do not have to love every experience to learn something from it.
Sometimes, the most memorable adventures are those that teach us what we do not want to do again!
A Final Thought for My Worldwide Readers
Cultural traditions help tell the story of a people. They connect generations and reveal something about the history and values of a community.
But traditions can also change as societies reconsider their practices and become more conscious of their consequences.
Cockfighting remains a subject of debate in the Philippines, particularly because of animal welfare, gambling-related harm, and the challenges of regulating online betting. These are issues that deserve thoughtful discussion rather than simple condemnation or unquestioning acceptance.
My own story is not an argument for or against every aspect of sabong. It is the account of a Filipino who spent most of his life outside the cockpit, finally entered one with his family, and discovered that the experience was not quite what he had imagined.
I came for the curiosity, stayed for about an hour, and left with a story that I can share with readers around the world.
And that, after all, is one of the pleasures of growing older: we accumulate experiences, reflect on them, and pass along the lessons and memories that may interest someone else.
At nearly 92, I have learned that we do not have to embrace every tradition to appreciate its place in our culture. Sometimes, it is enough to experience it once, understand it a little better, and tell the story honestly.
- The Venue: Venues range from rural, open-air wooden sheds to large concrete stadiums holding hundreds of roaring spectators.
- The Crowd: The audience is overwhelmingly male, tense, and hyper-focused. The air is often thick with noise, tobacco smoke, and adrenaline.
- The Action: Matches move at a relentless pace—often happening every 5 to 6 minutes. Roosters are prepped with razor-sharp gaffs or blades tied to their legs, and handlers may try to fire up the birds before they are released into the central pit.
- No Computers Needed (Traditionally): Wagering is a massive part of the culture. In traditional pits, bets aren't placed at a terminal or with tickets; instead, they rely on hand signals, loud verbal shouts, and memory.
- The Kristo: Human bookmakers (known as kristos, named because their raised-arm gestures resemble Christ on the cross) stand in the aisles, tracking complex cross-room wagers purely in their heads amidst the chaos.
- Cash Flow: Wagers can range from small local amounts (like 100 pesos) to thousands of pesos per match, handled by passing or tossing cash through the crowd.
- Deeply Rooted Tradition: For millions of Filipinos, sabong is not viewed merely as a blood sport, but as an ancient, multi-billion-dollar industry, a daily livelihood, and a deep-seated social ritual. Fighting roosters are often groomed and kept like prized pets or family members outside of the ring.
- Controversy and Shock: To first-time foreign visitors or outsiders, the reality is frequently jarring—marked by rapid trauma, blood, feathers cleaned up between rounds with a broom, and a general consensus among critics that the practice is a form of severe animal cruelty. As noted in community discussions on Reddit, there is a broad consensus that views cockfighting through the lens of ethical alarm and association with heavy gambling.
- The Aftermath: Defected or deceased birds are typically bagged, and sometimes taken away to be butchered for food, while rare surviving injured birds may receive rudimentary treatment
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