NOT too long ago, we watched Manny Pacquiao repeatedly deliver a flurry of punches in a scene appropriate to the holiday season in a temperate clime. It was like a snowstorm. And it made his opponent hunker down as though before a gale, his knees nearly touching the canvas that his lips would kiss shortly after.
Not too long ago, also, we saw a poor copy of the same Manny Pacquiao of just a year before; to be sure, poor by his extraordinary standard, a feeble copy of himself as crash diets and spells in a blistering sauna forced him down to the right weight?just barely.
Not too long ago, we saw Manny recover from the near fatal consequence of his self-indulgence in the next fight where he danced?not around, certainly not away from his opponent. But rather forwards and backwards, and side to side, as he delivered punches with lightning speed and pulled back his flashing fists with equal celerity from the face of his opponent or the side of his head.
Well, this touted Oscar de la Hoya/Manny Pacquiao Dream Match gave us nothing new from all of the above; nothing new at all. It was just the same old Manny Pacquiao, doing the same old things?but fighting above his class, against a taller and bigger man with a longer reach and a longer record of championships in more categories than Manny had fought in.
Except that, not too long ago, early this year, in fact, there was a movie called Jumper, about people with paranormal powers to compress time and thereby move from place to place to move in a micro?nay, even a nanosecond. And that is the only difference between the Manny Pacquiao hereinabove described and the Manny Pacquiao yesterday who ran like a child to his mother, to throw his face into the padded post in his corner of the ring and cover his ears with his gloved hands, only his heaving shoulders telling the world that he was praying his thanks to the Virgin Mary for a victory that, in hindsight, seemed forgone, but in betting circles was wholly unanticipated by nearly two to one.
Yes, he was expected to put up a good fight, as always, even better than before, most likely; but down he would go just the same?not humbled, to be sure, but in flames. So the betting wisdom went.
And then Manny rose from his crouch and smiled, showing the swollen blue, green and yellow rubber teeth guard, which he spat out. Slowly he raised his arms to the crowd, once more the hero of his people and, who would gainsay it, the world.
Yes, it was the time factor that spelled the only difference. Otherwise, it was the same old Manny Pacquiao at the same old peak of his inimitable powers and the very cutting edge of his pugilistic skills. But all of that accelerated to the surreal speed of a Jumper so that one moment his pug nose was a hair?s breadth from the perimeter of de la Hoya?s long vaunted and powerful reach, and, before the next moment had come, let alone elapsed, Manny had weaved himself right in between de la Hoya?s twin fists to land a solid punch in the Mexican-American?s face. Then he would pull back before the next instant, though not as fast as he had moved in.
There was genius in the slight delay in flight time: If Manny pulled back just as fast as he came in, he would meet the punch that de la Hoya had unleashed in retaliation. So he slowed his lightning withdrawal and de la Hoya?s outgoing punch sailed past his ear?to land in empty air. And then Manny was out of the reach of the second punch.
That was the only difference, that Manny was dodging faster than his opponent could deliver the punch that flew by him, and pull altogether away before de la Hoya could cock and release another punch with the same futility.
You saw it all in the first round as a tall and powerful de la Hoya strode toward the center of the ring and a small, hunched, iron-tight Pacquiao moved, like the Force that binds the Universe, in, out, from side to side, on his toes or with his legs stretched long forward like an archer bending his bow, surrounding and penetrating de la Hoya?s space from every direction. It took almost every ounce of strength in Pacquiao to do this bumblebee routine so that, when he tried it with absurd acceleration in the first round?clearly out of fear of tasting the poison of de la Hoya?s long jab?Pacquiao?s chest was heaving as he sat in his corner after the bell rang.
Maybe he was thinking, ?Mother of God, can I keep that up?? Well, in the event, he did. For there was yet another difference: All the previous power in his best fights that was packed tight in Manny Pacquiao clearly exceeded the small and lighter frame mandated by his weight class, so that when he was forced to pull down his weight, it could only be at the expense of some of that power.
But here was Pacquiao now: power packed tight as ever but in a larger, weightier frame. And so he was able to carry this lightning power act all the way to the eighth of 12 rounds, after which de la Hoya?s trainer crossed the ring and said his fighter had taken enough.
Speed, power, punishment; speed, power, punishment; speed, power and technical knockout. As de la Hoya so aptly said, Manny Pacquiao deserved every accolade that was being heaped, poured out; nay, more, that was cascading on him in the ring, outside the ring, throughout the world; although Pacquiao would treasure only the one whispered in his ear by his defeated opponent when he embraced de la Hoya and said, ?You are my idol.? De la Hoya answered, ?No, YOU are my idol.?
Two great men, two real gentlemen, God-fearing, devout, bound by a common faith, the equality of their courage and determination; but more than all that by honor and a sense of community higher than country: the community of fighters who, in the end, really fight for each other?s approval?despite Pacquiao?s simple explanation in the postfight interview, where he was almost TKOd by his English, that he did it for his country, that had audiences in movie theaters throughout the country howling with exaltation.
The Golden Boy had become a wooden image of his former self. Time is, indeed, a shipwreck, for, as de la Hoya explained, ?I had it in my heart to fight, but the body did not cooperate.? Yet, he had trained so hard that Victor ?Vicious? Ortiz, who had knocked out his opponent that same night in an undercard match, said that when he sparred with de la Hoya, the older fighter was in deadly fighting trim.
What do we do with Pacquiao now? Include him in the administration Senate slate so that his handlers can rob him again of his prize money, like they did when he ran for Congress? Why not make him president? Can we do worse?
Once we made another fighter president because she entered the ring, in a snap match called by the reigning champion to catch his enemies by surprise, though she was way out of his league. In ?stealing, killing and cheating? she would add. But those were the key elements of Philippine elections, but magnified by the reigning champion?s power to make and remake the rules and fix the fight if even those didn?t work. Unfortunately, those remain the key elements of Philippine elections, and this is the morning after. Back to reality.
