BEFORE the national euphoria over Manny Pacquiao’s 12th round TKO of Puerto Rico’s Miguel Cotto turns into untrammeled idolatry, let’s stop at cold statistical data. Most Filipinos are clambering into the Pacquiao express train to fame. I can’t join them because the train is already too overcrowded, and whatever words of praise I say, they are superfluous and add nothing to the tributes pouring on him.

Before he stepped into the ring, Pacquiao, said, “This is the most important fight because if I win, I’ll be making history for myself and my country.” That was a historically accurate and politically correct statement.

Pacquaio’s American trainer, Freddie Roach, could not wait for the verdict of history and crowned his protégé prematurely as “the greatest fighter of his era, for sure, 100 percent.”

It is sufficient to say that Pacquiao made boxing history by winning his seventh title in seven weight divisions, and for Filipinos this matters because a Filipino boxer achieved the feat. The triumph on the ring came at a time when Filipinos badly needed to lift their morale, following the devastation of two storms and their plunge into a desperate search of an event or a symbol through which they can demonstrate to the rest of the world that their country can produce an extraordinary achievement.

Nations have built their pride on their success in warfare. The arena on which to prove superiority without violence is the athletic field, ritually epitomized by the Olympic Games or the World Cup in football. National pride is nurtured and finds expression in these athletic competitions.

Boxing is one of the few sports where Filipinos have excelled and made their mark, and so when Filipino boxers win, as Pacquiao has done, there is an explosion of national pride, centered on the solitary achievement of a single individual. The backbone of our athletic competition in international games is so narrow that it is based on single individuals rather than on team games, such as football, basketball, swimming, or track and field events. Up to some point, we excelled in basketball, which we used to dominate in Asia, but we never left a mark in football, the sport of choice of most of the world, through which peoples express their nationalism and pride in the fatherland.

Thus for us, boxing has remained the solitary breeding ground for the rare exhibition of athletic excellence, and has also become the traditional path for upward social and financial mobility for poor boys in the rural hinterlands and the slums of urban neighborhoods.

Few are prepared to claim that Pacquiao is now ready to inherit the mantle of Flash Elorde, who is widely considered as one of the greatest Filipino boxers of all time. He was the first Filipino boxing champion since Pancho Villa.

Paquiao invites comparison with Pancho Villa. Born Francisco Guilledo in Negros Occidental in 1901, he took the name of Pancho Villa after the Mexican revolutionary leader. According to a blog by Dennis Villegas in “Pilipino Komiks,” Villa placed the Philippines on the map as the first Filipino flyweight in the world in the 1920s. He was considered “one of the greatest Asian brawlers to step intro the ring.” The prestigious Ring Magazine ranked Villa as “one of the 100 Greatest Boxers of All Time.”

In a much-anticipated match at New York’s Polo Grounds on June 18, 1923, recalls the blog, Villa defeated the British Jimmy Wilde for the world flyweight title in “one of the most exciting fights in boxing history.” The blog describes the fight:

“Villa started slow, while Wilde started fast, throwing power punches that was meant to knock out the Filipino slugger.

“Villa defended successfully and threw some power punches of his own in retaliation, most of them landing and almost knocked down Wilde. In the second round and onwards, however, Villa started to display his relentless attacking style, peppering Wilde with punches from both hands. In the seventh round, Villa battered Wilde to state of helplessness, making him fall face down in the canvas, ending the fight—and Wilde’s career.”

Villa returned to the Philippines in September 1924, in triumph, according to the blog. He was invited for a parade and a reception at Malacañang Palace by then US Governor-General Leonard Wood. As world champion, “Villa collected into his person all the swank and swagger of the era and the whole country felt an electrifying pride in his rise from rags to riches, his fetish for the most magnificent wardrobe, his expensive silk shirts and fashionable hats, his pearl buttons and bold cuff links, and regal servants… “The Filipinos adored his extravagance, treating him almost as their crowned king. For a time, Villa was the most beloved figure in the Philippines… Never before had the Filipinos been electrified by the pride that their own kind had become the Champion of the World.”

In 1925, Villa fought in a non-title bout with Jimmy McLarnin in Oakland, USA. Weak from a recent extraction of a wisdom tooth, Villa lost the decision. It was his last fight. A dentist discovered an infection and extracted three more teeth. Villa ignored the dentist’s instruction to rest and instead indulged in a week-long party. The infection worsened. He was rushed to hospital. He died on July 14, 1925, of Ludwig’s angina, an infection of the throat cavity.

“Villa’s untimely death at the age of 24 broke the nation’s heart,” the blog says. “The hysteria that possessed the masses during his funeral was the most feverish of its era. Filipinos openly wailed in the streets while their hero’s casket was being borne to its destination.”