“Alamo” is Spanish for “cottonwood tree.” The area around the Alamo fortress and its host city of San Antonio is, like the cottonwood trees that gave their name, scenic, charming and gentle. It is a delightful break from the usual harsh Texas terrain. It is only by virtue of a bloody battle in 1836 – part of the long-forgotten War of Texas Independence – that the fortress and the town became a symbol of defeat for the proud Mexican people.
Symbolism became reality last week as Mexican featherweight champion Marco Antonio Barrera was beaten to a pulp by Filipino challenger Manny Pacquiao in a stirring bout in San Antonio with profound ramifications for the lighter weight classes and for the sport in general. Many a child has walked away from a brush with a drunken stepfather with less damage inflicted than Barrera suffered from the monstrously aggressive Pacquiao.
Barrera, a legitimate champion who brawled spectacularly in his early career and has recently settled into a more controlled boxer-puncher mode, came into the fight with all the advantages: a fat HBO contract, a terrific reputation as a strong all-arounder, a squeaky-clean image as an intelligent and articulate representative of his people, and a huge edge in the betting line. When the opening bell sounded Barrera appeared to have the upper hand, and in the very first session he scored a knockdown, albeit a somewhat mysterious one as Pacquiao went to the canvas for no discernable reason (certainly not as the result of a blow).
That was the high water mark for Barrera, however. He resembled a man about to go down for the third time from that point onward. Pacquiao came after him as a thresher comes after a field of wheat or a lion comes after a wounded zebra. Pacquiao would be difficult to defend against even if he were less aggressive than he is, in light of his southpaw stance and somewhat unorthodox angles. But his relentless, explosive aggression is what makes him a tiger. To put it simply, he comes straight at his man, punches with all his might, and does so minute after minute, round after round, both to the body and to the head. Contrary to what the HBO commentators (who seemed less than intimately familiar with The Pacq Man’s career) said, Pacquiao does indeed have one-punch knockout power. But that is not the point. He doesn’t need it. He is the most aggressive fighter in the game today; a miniature, Filipino, Harry Greb.
Barrera felt canvas under his posterior in the third round (after a scorching one-two combination), the sixth (for some reason not called a knockdown by shaky referee Laurence Cole), and the eleventh (this time by virtue of a multi-punch combination to the body). He was cut and swollen. He had to be rescued by his corner later in the eleventh, and the title passed to Pacquiao in one of the most dominating victories by a title challenger over an established champion in many years.
To Your Faithful Reporter, the whole scene was reminiscent of Julio Cesar Chavez’ 1987 coming-out party against the highly-respected lightweight champion Edwin Rosario in Las Vegas. On that night as on this one, a major talent, previously known only to fight cognoscenti, emerged in the lower weight classes. On that night as on this one, the keys to victory were raw aggression, combinations, and body punching. On that night as on this one, the proceedings were terminated in Round 11 as the better-known fighter had to be saved via TKO. It is only because I am such a history buff that I will also note the odd coincidence that Chavez is named for the great Roman dictator Julius Caesar and his countryman Barrera carries the name of Caesar’s noble colleague Mark Anthony.
Pacquiao has the potential to have, as Chavez did, a long and lucrative career. He is as big a phenomenon in the Philippines, we are told, as Chavez was in Mexico. He carries power in both hands, and power does not fade with age (ask George Foreman). There are many, many worthy opponents to tussle with in the feather and junior light divisions, with concomitant major earnings. (Again, this is directly contrary to the nonsense purveyed by the HBO crew, who insisted that Pacquiao will have no one to fight.) And The Pacq Man seems (on the admittedly slim basis of the post-fight interview) to be an approachable sort whom one can root for; and he is learning English which will help his market power immeasurably. Pacquiao is much, much more than a guy with four vowels in a row in his name.
A guy can dream … Perhaps Pacquiao’s sudden arrival heralds a changing of the guard in boxing generally? Baby Joe Mesi among the heavyweights, Antonio Tarver among the light heavies (based on his competitive showing against the immortal Roy Jones), Ricardo Mayorga and Jermain Taylor among the middles, Pacquiao … are we witnessing the emergence of a new generation of stars? There are many who would welcome it. Lennox Lewis for all his talent, Evander Holyfield for all his courage, Mike Tyson for all his craziness, Jones for all his virtuosity, James Toney for all his professionalism, Floyd Mayweather for all his quicksilver speed, and Oscar de la Hoya for all his marquee star power, are fascinating figures, but we know them all too well by this point.
After the IBF scandal, Mike Tyson’s ear-biting, trash-talking, journalist-baiting shenanigans, and the recent spate of questionable decisions in title bouts, we need the new generation of heroes to grow up fast and put a new face on the game. If the up-and-comers mentioned here are not the ones to renew the sport, we will have to invent new ones. Look to Athens, the birthplace of classic civilization, to save its least civilized sport; the Olympic Games of 2004 will give us new heroes. Whether they wear the red, white and blue we love so well is beside the point.
Bring on the young kids, as they say in baseball every September. We want ten more Pacquiaos. Boxing is more than a Seniors Tour.
