I guess it was inevitable in the wake of Manny Pacquiao’s quite remarkable and unprecedented achievements in the boxing ring that people would begin to look for explanations beyond the little Pinoy’s raw power and stunning athleticism.
That’s the age we live in, unfortunately. When Usain Bolt took Olympic Gold in Beijing at a trot, recording 9.69 seconds, and then improved that to 9.58 a year later, he had in 12 months reduced the world record by a margin that previous “mortal” athletes had taken 20 years to realize. In the drug-addled world of track and field, Bolt’s performances seem incredible.
Pacquiao’s achievements are no less impressive. He’s jumped seven weight-classes, and appeared more powerful with each leap, not just beating world class opponents along the way, but bashing them up: Oscar De La Hoya was utterly out-fought, Ricky Hatton was comprehensively out-sped, and Miguel Angel Cotto was painfully out-classed as the Pacman made a mockery of traditional notions of boxing’s weight classes and the restrictions they placed on ambitious men.
To the layman a four-six pound jump in weight appears minimal and easily managed – it’s a few beers and a couple of pizza’s over a weekend – but to a professional fighter at the peak of conditioning, pared down to the bone and sinew, it’s a mountain of flesh. Few have managed to make the leap as comfortably as Pacquiao, who has now bridged a 40 pound weight span and been barely inconvenienced in doing so.
Pacquiao and trainer Freddie Roach have laughed off any suggestion that Manny might be using illegal substances to smooth his transformation from midget to monster, but there’s a growing constituency seemingly prepared to voice its concerns, even in the face of the litigious society we live in, and Pacquiao’s limitless financial resources to make use of the Courts should he choose to clear his name. That constituency grew louder this week when Floyd Mayweather, SR., came out and insisted on Olympic style drug testing before his son’s set-to with Pacquiao in March, only for the Philippine to refuse. That refusal prompted the following statement from promoter Richard Schaeffer:
“He, Pacquiao, would only agree to have blood drawn before the kick-off press conference and after the fight. It is unfortunate to hear this from Pacquiao’s representatives, particularly since, as of today, both parties had worked out all other issues related to this fight.
Team Mayweather is certainly surprised that an elite athlete like Manny Pacquiao would refuse drug testing procedures which Floyd has already agreed to and have been agreed to by many other top athletes such as Lance Armstrong, and Olympians Michael Phelps, LeBron James and Kobe Bryant.”
In the wake of this announcement a few other notable boxing dignitaries have added their voice to the debate: Paulie Malignaggi, Kermit Cintron and others have voiced their own doubts over the purity of Pacquiao’s rise, and doubtless the Mayweathers and others will be interested to see over the coming months whether the usually writ-happy Bob Arum will call them to account. If he doesn’t, then the naysayers will simply multiply in voice and numbers.
Doubtless Arum will argue that contesting such accusations lends them a legitimacy they don’t deserve, but we all know that’s a bunch of bunk. If Manny has nothing to hide, he needs to come forward and use every means at his disposal to prove the fact. Avoidance implies guilt.
Whether or not the ship of Mayweather Vs. Pacquiao founders on this particular rock remains to be seen. Odious as Team Mayweather is, they’re professional enough that they won’t allow their man to step between the ropes with Pacquiao until they’ve dotted every “I” and crossed very “T”, and neither should they, whatever the cash incentives. Floyd, JR., is a finished fighter the moment his “0” is gone, such is the bond between that undefeated record and his gargantuan ego – so expect Pacquiao to be called to account.
I was approached recently by a contributor who laid out for me several reasons why he was convinced that Pacquiao was on steroids. His reasons mostly centers around the Pacman’s physique – the argument being that Pacquiao’s muscularity was impossible in the time span and in light of the level of weight gain – and a view of the Philippines and that country’s attitude to competition and fair play. He was a Philippine himself, so I can repeat his assertion that cheating and corruption are endemic in the Philippines in most areas of life (a cursory examination of the political history of Pacquiao’s homeland pretty much tells its own story).
That in itself doesn’t damn Pacquiao. Having met the man, and found him to be courteous, funny, self-effacing and easy to talk to, I saw nothing in him to suggest that he was anything other than an astonishing athlete, who, like Usain Bolt, had simply arrived before his time and carved up all expectations of human physical capabilities.
Of course, that might just be because I refuse to contemplate the alternatives, and the damage that Pacquiao being exposed as a drug-cheat would have on the sport that I love. I have for some time suspected that Track & Field would disappear as a spectator sport should Bolt ever test positive, and whilst the same isn’t true of professional boxing, the hit would be palpable and tremendous.
We all watch sport because each time the first bell sounds, or the gun goes off, or the whistle blows, we hope to see something exceptional that will exceed everything that’s gone before it. We’ve seen that with Manny Pacquiao – but that hope would be permanently destroyed should we now find, after all that’s been said and done, that it was nothing more than a big, fat fake.
