Torre’s Charity TKO vs. Baste’s Family Day Flop: A Political Pay-Per-Snooze

By Louis ‘Barok‘ C. Biraogo — July 27, 2025

LADIES and gentlemen, step right up to the Fight of the Fallen, a political telenovela so absurd it was rejected by ABS-CBN for making Ang Probinsyano look like a documentary. This is the saga of Acting Davao Mayor Sebastian “Baste” Duterte and PNP Chief Nicolas Torre III, a feud where the only punches thrown were at logic, dignity, and the patience of every Filipino scrolling through X. It’s Rocky meets Runaway Bride, with a script that screams, “We tried to make drama, but all we got was a sitcom.”

Weaponized Charity: Torre’s PR Jab or Altruistic Haymaker?

Let’s start with Torre, the PNP chief who saw a fistfight challenge and thought, “Perfect, I’ll turn this into a GoFundMe with gloves!” His TikTok training videos—sweaty, earnest, and captioned “Boxing for rice, not spice”—are either the most noble pivot since Mother Teresa or a PR jiujitsu move that would make Sun Tzu blush. “We’ll raise funds for flood victims!” he declares, as if Baste’s taunts were a UNICEF pledge drive.

Rice for relevance? Torre’s got sponsors lined up, a ring built at Rizal Memorial, and Manny Pacquiao on speed dial as a referee. It’s so wholesome it’s suspicious—like a politician kissing babies while checking his poll numbers. Torre’s camp insists, “The aid flows with or without Baste”, which is less charity and more a checkmate: if Baste shows, Torre’s a hero; if he doesn’t, Torre’s still the guy handing out rice sacks. Meanwhile, flood victims are wondering if they’ll get canned goods or just another viral video of Torre shadowboxing to Eye of the Tiger.

Baste’s Backpedaling: From “I’ll Punch You” to “Catch Me in Singapore”

Now, let’s talk about Baste Duterte, the mayor who threw a verbal jab and then sprinted to Singapore faster than you can say “family day.” On July 20, he roared on his Basta Dabawenyo podcast, “Kung lalaki ka talaga, suntukan tayo!”—a challenge so macho it could star in a San Miguel ad. But when Torre said, “Sure, let’s make it a charity bout,” Baste’s bravado did a 180 faster than a jeepney dodging Manila traffic.

First, he clarified he “just wanted to punch Torre,” not box him, as if there’s a legal distinction between assault and a pay-per-view event. Then, he dropped a bombshell: no fight unless President Marcos and every elected official take a hair follicle drug test. That’s right, folks—he went from “I’ll knock you out” to “I’ll need a lab report first.” By Saturday, he was in Singapore, claiming “family day” on Sunday, July 27, was sacred.

Jet-setting from fists to flights, Baste’s retreat is a masterclass in tactical cowardice, leaving Filipinos wondering if his next podcast will be broadcast from The Hague, where he might visit dad Rodrigo, currently on trial for crimes against humanity. It’s like challenging someone to a duel, then saying, “Sorry, I’m booked for a pedicure.”

Social Media Circus: Memes Sharper Than a Left Hook

The X-verse has turned this fiasco into a meme factory, with netizens landing punches neither fighter could. Pro-Baste fans cheer his “family day” excuse, with one quipping, “Family Day > Face-the-General Day. Priorities, bes!” Others back his drug-test demand, saying, “Drug-test muna bago suntukan? Parang ‘Bring your parents on prom night.’”

But the anti-Baste brigade is savage: “Mayor, the ring is ready; your alibi is not,” snarks a YouTube commenter. Another zinger: “Baste’s boxing stance: left foot in Davao, right foot in Singapore.” The hypocrisy is meme-gold: “Sunday is for family… unless it’s for dodging accountability,” roasts one user, while another compares Baste’s no-show to “his dad dodging the ICC.”

Torre’s fans aren’t holding back either, with one X post crowning him the winner by default: “Torre’s human shield: flood victims. Baste’s shield: Changi Airport.” Even neutral observers can’t resist, joking, “Sana all—government officials settle policy disputes via boxing, not budget insertions.” It’s a circus where the clowns are the main event, and the audience is armed with keyboards.

Satirical Solutions: From Follicle Fights to Truth Punches

So, what’s next for this pugilistic soap opera? I propose a Follicle Fight Night, where every official submits to Baste’s drug test, then dukes it out in the ring—hair samples in one hand, boxing gloves in the other. Picture it: Marcos vs. Baste, with a lab tech as the ring announcer.

Or how about a Tag Team Tussle? Sara Duterte vs. Imee Marcos in the undercard, settling their UniTeam breakup with a cage match. The referee? A fact-checker, scoring “truth punches” for every verified claim. If Baste wants a no-cameras, no-gloves street fight, as he suggested, let’s book a back alley with a lie detector as the judge.

And to ensure fairness, let’s have the Games and Amusement Board certify the bout as “100% drama-free” (good luck with that). The real winner? The flood victims, who might finally get their rice without a side of political theater.

The Gut-Punch Finale

In the end, this Fight of the Fallen is less about fists and more about the farce of Philippine politics. Baste’s taunts and Torre’s charity spin are just symptoms of a deeper malaise: a nation where vendettas are dressed up as public service, and flood victims become props in a macho melodrama. The only knockout here is to public trust, battered by leaders who’d rather trade barbs than build bridges—literal or figurative.

As Filipinos wade through floodwaters and scroll through memes, they’re left with a bitter truth: in a country where politics and punchlines merge, the real loser is the hope for governance that doesn’t need a referee.