Well, it was as we suspected. From Hermie Rivera, we learn that Manny Pacquiao did not appear for a scheduled appointment with this columnist Saturday morning because he gambled the night away last Friday at a Para?aque cockpit. This is an unforgivable double-cross on the part of a Filipino fistic celebrity, a supposed world champion at that, who should have at the very least palabra de honor when dealing with media.
The man has not even called, sought to make up, or apologize. This is crass vulgarity and I say this with emphasis because Manny Pacquiao has to be exposed for the dastard that he is. We have heard a lot about him, but never said a word, that he was an incorrigible wencher, and gambler and carouser, a roustabout with the parlor habits of a stray baboon.
We have admired the man too much, adored him too much, elevated him to a pedestal too much.
Manny Pacquiao has to be stopped before he starts behaving like Mike Tyson, a mad and wild warrior who beat off the ear of Evander Holyfield, and raped almost all the women in his life because, as he explained, he just loved to hear them shriek with pain. When Pacquiao?s trainer Freddie Roach is not around, so we are informed, he takes to the bottle and smokes like a chimney and nobody, but nobody, can stop him.
This is the reason Manny Pacquiao has to go abroad sooner than scheduled for his fights because invariably he meanders the streets of General Santos like a hobo in his cups. Freddie Roach straightens him out physically but reportedly cannot go very far because the Filipino pugilist fights more like a robot than a “thinking fighter” who plots his moves in the ring in advance.
Hell, I hate to write this way about Manny Pacquiao about whom in the past, I have written prodigally in praise and admiration. But he brought this on himself, that?s for sure.
And it?s time we see him as he is. Magpakalalaki ka, Manny.
