When boxing icon Manny Pacquiao returns home Friday, he will find a grateful nation. Millions of Filipinos followed his masterful victory over the gallant David Diaz last Sunday; marveled over his lethal combination of right jab and left hook that brought Diaz down in the ninth round; and, not least, noted his instinctive sympathetic reaction to a fallen fighter, which was to try to bring him to his feet. Pacquiao did the country proud.

Even people stricken by Typhoon “Frank,” including families hollowed by grief over the sinking of MV Princess of the Stars, were happy to spend an hour or two following the fight, either by listening to the radio broadcast or watching the (much-delayed) telecast. (Thousands were lucky enough to watch the bout live on cable.) Some of those interviewed on TV said they needed the respite from the harrowing search for survivors or victims’ bodies; a few expressed the hope that Pacquiao would visit them personally and bring the aid he had promised.

We have previously noted the lessons we all ought to learn from Pacquiao’s success: the application of discipline, which makes everything else possible; the steadying influence of mentors; the value of a game plan; and, not least, the readiness to develop new strengths (such as, in the southpaw boxer’s case, a potent right hand, billed rather theatrically as “Manila Ice”).

To be sure, there is much to be unlearned too: the high tolerance for the possibility of distraction, the willingness to be used by ambitious politicians. (Given Tonypet Albano’s dismaying ubiquity in Las Vegas, is there any doubt that the administration’s former campaign spokesman has elective office in mind?)

But Pacquiao’s victory last Sunday and his most recent fights, against Mexican greats Marco Antonio Barrera and Juan Manuel Marquez, were also different, for a crucial reason: They were legacy fights. They were not only about the money; they were in pursuit of history.

There was a time a few years back, when Pacquiao was caught in the middle of a tug of war between high-profile and highly aggressive promoters, when some people in his corner belittled the very idea of boxing titles. The money is with an exciting fighter like Pacquiao, they reasoned. His fights would be welcomed and watched whether a championship was at stake or not.

That was true then; it remains true now. A fighter who generates an overwhelming sense of excitement like Pacquiao will always attract the big fights. In this view, championship belts are almost irrelevant.

But while boxing will always be a cruel sport, it is also, or it has always the potential to turn into, an honorable one. The most honored seats in the sport’s pantheon are reserved for the greatest champions—not those who fought for the biggest purses, but those who made the titles worth fighting for: Joe Louis and Muhammad Ali, Pancho Villa and Flash Elorde, Marvin Hagler and Sugar Ray Leonard. The list is a long one. It will become even longer when Pacquiao’s name is added to it.

Pacquiao’s decision to fight for a fourth world title in a fourth weight class was not only lucrative; it was also right. This is what the world’s best boxer, pound for pound, ought to do. Now he has the opportunity to attempt an assault on a fifth world title, by going up to the next weight class. He also has the opportunity to unite the world titles in the lightweight division. He has the opportunity, if he so decides, to give Marquez a third chance—a boxing trilogy that will prove as memorable as his three fights with another Mexican great, Eric Morales. Whatever Pacquiao decides, the money will come, because the world will want to watch his every fight. Chasing history, he will find that money has become almost irrelevant.

We should not read too much into Pacquiao’s success; the public’s sense of economic uncertainty continues to sharpen, the moral lassitude that infects our politics continues to corrupt our capacity for both outrage and action. But we should not read too little into his victory either. For one moment, we were one people. In our unity, we realized we do not have to be victims of circumstance, but history’s equals.