The first time I covered Manny Pacquiao from ringside was in May 2004 when he fought Juan Manuel Marquez for the first time.
The vividness with which I recall the three knockdowns in the opening round and the energy that engulfed the MGM Grand Garden Arena has me struggling to accept it all really unfolded 21 years ago.
The second time was his rematch with Erik Morales at the Thomas and Mack Center in what would prove to be one of the most significant outings in Pacquiao’s career. Morales had exposed Pacquiao’s technical limitations in their first meeting, causing the Filipino and trainer Freddie Roach to work extensively on developing the southpaw’s right hand.
During the rematch, it all came together, Pacquiao overcoming a tough start to overwhelm Morales and stop him in 10.
One of the things that lodged in my memory that night was how incredibly loud it was in the arena. Pacquiao Fever was taking off and I half-joked that the noise must have been akin to sticking one’s head next to a jet engine. I have yet to experience boxing crowds as consistently full-throated as those that turned out for peak Pacman’s series of contests with his Mexican rivals Morales, Marco Antonio Barrera and, of course, Marquez – a sequence of fights that prompted publicist Bernie Bahrmasel to dub him the “Mexicutioner.”
I was there also for his second fight with Barrera, his rubber match with Morales, and when he destroyed David Diaz to take a lightweight belt. (Diaz, by the way, was one of my favorite interviews: several months later, when I started to ask him about his one-sided stoppage loss he immediately interjected with a laugh, “I was robbed!”)
I was ringside, too, during his annus mirabilis of December 2008 to November 2009, when he took apart Oscar De La Hoya, relieved Ricky Hatton of consciousness in an instant, and turned back the challenge of fellow future Hall-of-Famer Miguel Cotto.
Most of his outings, like those masterpieces, were in Las Vegas. But Pacquiao took his show on the road, too. He twice headlined at Jerry Jones’ spectacular new stadium in Arlington, Texas, where he convincingly defeated Joshua Clottey and Antonio Margarito, but took a little bit too much damage in the process and was never quite the same destructive force afterward. (Others of a more cynical bent could surmise other reasons for the downturn in his destructive power.)
There was Macau, too, and wins over Brandon Rios and Chris Algieri early on Sunday morning amid the particular charms of a property that sported gamblers passed out on benches around the casino floor and ladies of the evening who seemed especially eager to pursue every westerner who walked within earshot.
In more than 20 years of covering boxing, I’m not sure I’ve experienced anything quite like the ride that was reporting on the Pacquiao phenomenon.
Pacquiao’s rise had so many ingredients: the preternaturally happy fighter, who beamed at supporters on his way to the ring – often accompanied by a song that he himself had recorded – before unleashing almost cartoon-like violence once the bell began; his repeated assertions that all he wanted was to “make the people happy” because “I love the people”; the Yoda-and-Luke relationship with trainer Freddie Roach, who overcame his own physical challenges to forge a special bond with the charge who had knocked on the screen door of the Wild Card Boxing Club and asked if Roach would hold pads for him; and the mischievous creativity of publicist Fred Sternburg, who would conspire with Roach to say all the things that Pacquiao wouldn’t and help Manny with the words with which he was comfortable.
There were the brief concerts at Mandalay Bay that Pacquiao would perform after a fight, even following the tussle with Cotto that left him with a damaged ear and a bandage wrapped tightly around his head. And then there was Jimmy Kimmel, who welcomed Pacquiao as a favored repeat guest, to the point of actively encouraging his trademark rendition of ‘Sometimes When We Touch.’
It was frequently fun and almost never dull, even when the victories began to be interspersed with defeats.
I was ringside for Marquez II and III (and was one of the very few people not named Pacquiao, Sternburg, or Roach who thought the Filipino eked them both) and for the conclusive fourth meeting when a suddenly sculpted Marquez knocked him out face-first amid raucous and emotional scenes.
It seemed then that the journey was over, that Pacmania had run its course, that a sobbing Jinkee Pacquiao would tell her husband she didn’t want to see him fight again. But the biggest night of them all was still to come, in the form of the massively anticipated but past-its-sell-by-date clash with Floyd Mayweather Jnr.
Fight week was jam-packed and exciting, a surprise around every corner, and a giddy optimism prevailed as predictions of the number of pay-per-view buys grew and grew. As for the fight itself: Mayweather was excellent, while Pacquiao showed the fight may have come too late for him to mount a truly effective challenge.
And there was the slightly strange trilogy with Tim Bradley, which kicked off when Pacquiao was adjudged to have lost a bout he appeared from ringside to have won quite clearly. While the official loser addressed the media post-fight from the dais, the putative victor unhappily nursed an ankle injury as he sat in a wheelchair.
The conclusion of that trilogy marked the 19th time I had watched Pacquiao from ringside; the 20th, four years and four fights later, was his stroll against Adrien Broner.
This Saturday’s challenge of welterweight titlist Mario Barrios will be the 21st. And, on one level, I’m dreading it.
I don’t want to overstate that case. Because of my history of covering both Pacquiao and Roach, I requested the assignment, after all. But the thought of Pacquiao emerging from four years of retirement to take on Barrios has me asking two main questions.
The first: Why?
Why would a man who has achieved so much and made so much money, who combined the latter stages of his career with spells in Congress and the Senate and who, during his aborted retirement, ran for president, want or need to take punches in the head from a relatively fresh 30-year-old? Have the multiple political campaigns and his admirable penchant for handing out money to the poor drained his formerly swollen coffers? Does he miss it all: the attention, the training, the ringwalks, the sight of his face on a marquee, the feeling of sanctioned combat?
Roach recently told me that Pacquiao and his wife had expressed a desire for “one more fight.” Does he feel uncomfortable with how things worked out last time in the ring and in need of a final victory to tie the bow on what is literally a Hall-of-Fame career?
If so, that leads to the second question: How?
How does a man who was convincingly defeated by Yordenis Ugas in 2021 somehow find the extra gear he needs to upend – at age 46! - the man who subsequently delivered Ugas a thumping?
Simple, say the optimists. Barrios is a fairly pedestrian welterweight titlist and Pacquiao is an all-time great. And Pacquiao’s style and strengths match up well with Barrios’ weaknesses. All of which may well be true, but in the final analysis the most important element isn’t to be found in punch stats or victories or titles won, but in his age – which, again, is 46.
What are the concrete steps he can take to improve on his performance against Ugas, or his showing in a 2024 exhibition in which he was embarrassed and outpunched by a 28-year-old kickboxer? Most pertinently, how is he supposed to recapture the speed he flashed in his pomp, which he surely will need if he is to emerge victorious?
Blathering on about his greatness or Barrios’ ordinariness – a criticism that is taken too far, in this writer’s opinion; Barrios may not be Sugar Ray Leonard but he’s no Yuriy Nuzhnenko either - doesn’t obscure the simple fact that somehow, he has to do what he hasn’t shown an ability to do for years.
Is it possible that he could land the perfect left hand and crumple Barrios as he did Hatton?
That scenario would be more believable if he hadn’t scored precisely one knockout since the win over Cotto. So, he’ll have to find the footwork, hand speed and stamina to outbox a younger, taller, fresher and more active man over 12 rounds.
Among the many accurate but overused phrases in boxing is that Father Time is undefeated; and yet, time and again, everyone seems to be shocked when it’s proven to be true. I mean, didn’t we just go through this?
Granted, 46 isn’t 58, and Pacquiao has lived a healthier live than Mike Tyson.
Equally, however, Barrios is a significantly more capable and accomplished boxer than Jake Paul and will, one suspects, be less inclined to take it easy on his older opponent.
The two main reasons why so many repeatedly fall for the idea that age is just a number in combat sports are, of course, George Foreman and Bernard Hopkins.
Foreman famously retired for 10 years before regaining the heavyweight championship at age 45, while Hopkins was 49 at the time of his final win.
But Foreman was, of course, a heavyweight, a division in which speed and reflexes can matter less than power, which is famously said to be the last thing a boxer loses. He also brought guile, good defense, and a phenomenally relaxed fighting style to the ring when he came back.
Just as important, he felt his way back, slowly regaining his muscle memory and skills. He was 24-0 in his second career when he challenged Evander Holyfield, and 27-2 when he defeated Moorer.
Hopkins altered his style as he aged, using his experience and intelligence to negate his opponents’ gameplans; and he was a mere pup of 36 when he upset Felix Trinidad in 2001. He also at no stage attempted to come back after going six years without a win.
It is possible that something dramatic will happen, that Pacquiao will recapture the magic of yesteryear and somehow summon a victory that will elevate him even farther in the pantheon of pugilistic greatness. If he does, I’ll be perfectly happy to be derided as an idiot. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.
But let’s be honest. Put away the rose-tinted glasses, holster the unbridled hope, and consider the realities of the matchup. The greater likelihood by far is that Pacquiao won’t just lose but will lose badly, to a man he would have whupped in his pomp.
When and if that happens, Barrios will deserve his props. But it will be a sad and unnecessary end to a glorious career. There’s a pretty good chance Saturday will rank at number 21 on my personal list of Manny Pacquiao fights.
Fortunately, I have 20 other memories to recall instead.
Kieran Mulvaney has written, broadcast and podcast about boxing for HBO, Showtime, ESPN and Reuters, among other outlets. He presently co-hosts the “Fighter Health Podcast” with Dr. Margaret Goodman. He also writes regularly for National Geographic, has written several books on the Arctic and Antarctic, including most recently Arctic Passages: Ice, Exploration, and the Battle for Power at the Top of the World, and is at his happiest hanging out with wild polar bears. His website is www.kieranmulvaney.com.
