Manny Pacquiao’s victory over previously undefeated American Chris Algieri showed just how much he still has to offer the boxing world.
The expected knockout didn’t happen, yes, and Pacquiao’s matches that went the distance—or at least the ones he won—continue to stretch farther out from that November evening in 2009 when he stopped Miguel Cotto in Las Vegas. But the failure to score a knockout was not a total discredit of his ability to inflict damage in the ring. Algieri did hit the deck six times, a result of that distinct blend of speed and power that our eight-division champ has perfected on the way to superstardom.
That Algieri did not get waved off was a credit to Pacquiao’s caution (a stunning knockout loss to Juan Manuel Marquez forced him to check his knack of swimming into an opponent with whipping combinations at the risk of walking into a haymaker), Algieri’s caution (he welshed on his vow of toe-to-toe engagements), and an amusing pep talk from the American’s corner (his trainer kept urging him on with exhortations that “we are where we wanted to be” even after he hit the canvas with alarming regularity).
Critics are correct to douse the ardor over last Sunday’s victory. Beating an opponent of Algieri’s quality doesn’t exactly polish a boxer’s legend, after all. And Algieri’s punching power was heavily questioned going into the Macau bout. Still, it was good to watch Pacquiao unleashing combinations in a manner that evoked snapshots of his great victories. He put up an exciting show—something even tepid admirers would stay up to watch on a late-night rerun.
Because this is where people love to watch Pacquiao: in the ring, surgically dismantling rivals until they are but shells of their old selves (see De La Hoya, Hatton). Everything else he does, or tries to do, is a novelty that should—must—wear off. Playing pro basketball? Singing? Acting? Taking a seat in the House of Representatives? Planning a shot at a higher office (God forbid)? Novelties.
Let’s not get into his intentions because for sure, he remembers his roots and has demonstrated a soft spot for the poor. He loves basketball, hogs the mic, and does what he damn well pleases and can afford to do (and he can afford plenty).
What is fervently hoped is that, despite whatever is whispered in his ear by the company he keeps, Pacquiao will realize that the people’s passion is unequivocal when he is in one place, and one place only: in the boxing ring.
Opinion is divided on whether Pacquiao’s success on the basketball court translates into a tangible good for either player or sport. People are divided, too, on whether politics is the best, or the only, way for him to help the poor. When his team notches a victory in the PBA, when he wins an elective office, or gains a reprieve in a battle with tax officials, some do cheer. But we don’t cheer as hard and as passionately as when he fights for flag and country in the ring.
The proof is not just in the adulation that embraces him for every victory. The most glaring proof that it is as a boxer that this country fawns over Pacquiao the most is during his times of defeat. People won’t agonize if his team loses by a rout in the PBA. There was in fact a loud sigh of relief when he lost his first run for public office. People can laugh at these defeats, as evidenced by the funny memes that go viral in the aftermath of his “losses” during his moonlighting moments.
But people don’t laugh at his defeats in the ring. And making jokes and funny memes out of his boxing losses thrusts one into the role of a vile villain (ask Justin Bieber). Each time he loses in the ring, the only things missing to complete the atmosphere of a national day of mourning are flags flown half-staff.
There was a palpable sense of gloom, an eerie silence, in the theaters that broadcast live Pacquiao’s fall to Marquez. There was a collective anger over a decision to award Timothy Bradley with a victory that experts felt should have gone to Pacquiao. It is during those dark defeats that the country shows its pure affection for its champ.
The message is, or should be, clear to the “Pambansang Kamao”: Stick to boxing, to the place where you forged your legend.