COCKFIGHTING, a beloved Filipino passion and pastime, is banned in nearly all states in the union. In New York, 15 battle-ready cocks were discovered by cops in a Bronx apartment and turned over to the ASPCA — the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.

Predictably, the ASPCA put the roosters to “sleep,” probably “saving” them from cruelty if they engaged in a fight to the finish in a makeshift ring. But if we were the roosters, we would take our chances against an opponent in the ring rather than an instant death sentence from the ASPCA.

Admittedly, cultures clash in the matter of roosters turning into gladiators to the delight and frenzy of spectators who place bets on their pet cocks. Filipinos are passionate about this presumed sport, or sabong in the dialect, to the extent that, according to conventional wisdom, fighting cocks are more prized than wives.

To Spaniards, who occupied the Philippine islands for nearly four centuries, bullfighting is another gory sport that is scorned by the squeamish from the western world. Spain may well have introduced sabong to keep the “indios” from thinking of rebelling against oppression.

In both sports, blood is spilled, but more so in the bullfight arena when the matador finishes off the game but chanceless bull. In very rare occasions, however, the toro sometimes is able to win over the torero, to the audible gasp of horror of onlookers.

You can bet a cackle of roosters, combatants or not, that any form or shape of this Spanish fare springing by stealth anywhere in the U.S. will draw a stern rebuke from the ASPCA: that’s a lot of bull.

Even the normally staid New York Times weighed in editorially against cockfighting, calling it a “lurid pastime.” The paper’s sensibility was pricked by an Oklahoma state legislator who want to reinstate cockfighting after it was banned in a referendum two years ago.

Not even if, as the legislator suggested, the roosters be equipped with “tiny boxing gloves and chest protectors.” What about teeny-weeny shorts and head protectors or a trained monkey with a wee bow tie who knows the 10-count? The Times asked and promptly shot down the cockamamie idea.

That’s how this chicken chatter stands at the moment. But you can count on cockfighting on the sly to be taking place any Sunday in Spanish Harlem, Texas, Hawaii or New Mexico inspite of the Times’ revulsion of a “fight to the death for the blood-spattered delight of illicit gamblers.”

After all, chickens are routinely butchered for food. Where we come from, roosters who die in cockfights make for delicious arroz caldo.