Boxing could always use a miracle.
It was historic when Muhammad Ali detonated that right hand on a fatigued George Foreman in Zaire in 1974, and equally staggering when Foreman’s right hand found the point of Michael Moorer’s chin 20 years later.
It was stunning when Bernard Hopkins – in his forties – outboxed Kelly Pavlik, and when, about two decades older than Jean Pascal, B-Hop performed press ups between rounds when they first boxed.
But it was desperately sad when Ali was bludgeoned by Larry Holmes, and when Hopkins was knocked out of the ring by Joe Smith, and likewise when Joe Louis ran out of time against Rocky Marciano and the lightning gifts of Roy Jones were null and void as he fought through middle age.
I was a little late to covering Manny Pacquiao from ringside, starting in 2007 on that incredible night when – back in this Las Vegas venue, the MGM Grand, where he fights Mario Barrios on Saturday– he bashed Oscar De La Hoya.
Before that bout, and it’s so easy to forget, many were worried for Pacquiao’s health, moving up to welterweight. De La Hoya had boxed at 154lbs, of course, and even 160lbs.
Former light heavyweight champion Eddie Mustafa Muhammad protested to me that the fight should not happen, such was his concern for Pacquiao’s health.
But Pacquiao was brilliant that night, buzzing around a shell-shocked De La Hoya who could do little more than cover and wait for the relentless tide of leather to stop crashing against his face.
It never did.
That was in 2008.
The amazing Pacquiao tear continued, and there were a few ringside experiences that stand out.
There was Joshua Clottey in Texas where, frankly, Clottey was well-outboxed but he had enough success to mark-up Pacquiao’s face. And for the excellent Cotto fight in Vegas, too one-sided to be called a truly great fight, Pacquiao closed out the night singing at the Mandalay Bay across the street in a pre-arranged concert/afterparty, wearing a fedora and with a bandage covering the swelling on one of his ears.
Sadly, the most dramatic Pacquiao bout of many I saw was of him pitching face-first in the sixth round of his fourth war with Juan Manuel Marquez, never to really recover.
He took a year out and I was ringside in Macau when he posted a (for Manny) comparatively listless decision win over Brandon Rios.
Pacquiao looked toothless that night (in the morning on location) which is something you had not been able to say before.
In the Marquez bout, Pacquiao had looked dangerous and vicious until he was left prone on the mat with many, me included, fearing the worst.
Pacquaio’s decline was marginal but prolonged.
Whether it was his finishing instinct that left him or his power, we can only speculate.
He remained world class, but the stats show he became about volume and work rather than power and explosivity.
The man who De La Hoya couldn’t hit, who wasted Ricky Hatton, and who ultimately splattered Cotto had gone.
Yes, he still racked up wins, but the stoppages evaporated.
Fighters who might not have lasted in his violent pomp were now going 12 rounds, sometimes without enduring rocky moments that might have once seemed inevitable.
Aside from stopping Lucas Matthysse, Pacquiao didn’t finish one of his next 17 foes in 12 years after Cotto.
He didn’t box for two years after handing Keith Thurman his first defeat, then was beaten by Cuban Yordenis Ugas.
We know it doesn’t work like this, but Ugas was dropped twice and beaten on points in 2023 by Mario Barrios, who a 46-year-old Pacquiao boxes on Saturday.
It is ludicrous that Pacquiao, winless in six years, has a title fight – and we have the WBC to thank for that. And were it not for this sport churning out the odd miracle in decades previously, this whole thing would be borderline ludicrous.
But more than that, it’s dangerous.
Manny Pacquiao should no longer be fighting.
We can’t prove what damage he has already sustained, but we all have a fair idea.
His trainer, Freddie Roach, a good fighter in his day, is a cautionary tale.
There comes a point where the knowledge we have goes beyond boxing, and results, and scans, and commission tests.
We know what Manny has been through.
We know he has boxed 72 pro fights. We know he has boxed 498 rounds. We know how hard and plentiful the sparring at the Wild Card is. We know he’s sparred bigger, heavier fighters. We know about that Marquez knockout. We know what happened with Ugas. We know what happens with inactivity. We know about the wars; with Barrera, Morales, Marquez, and others. We know Manny started boxing at 17, when the brain is still developing and at risk, and we know he fights again at 46 when, yes, again the brain is more at risk.
Sure, precedents have been set. Look at Hopkins. Look at Foreman.
But Pacquiao traded on speed and reflexes, they did not.
Hopkins started late; Pacquiao did not. Foreman’s career had a 10-year gap in between; Pacquiao’s did not.
But it is the long, slow decline of Pacquaio that is of concern. Even if he is better than he was against Ugas four years ago, if he’s no better than he was against fighters like Chris Algieri and Adrien Broner in 2014 and 2019 respectively, will that be enough to defeat Barrios?
Of course, Barrios has long been targeted by the Filipino as low-hanging fruit, but he can be a handful and likely will be for Pacquiao. More than.
We know neurologically there is no test to reveal chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE). There are no scans that reveal the changes in white matter that we hear about in football players, veterans, and victims of domestic abuse. That can only be done in autopsy, when slides of brain cells are dyed and inspected under high power microscopes. There is no obvious foreshadowing of which fighters will start to struggle in retirement, with short-term memory loss, mood swings, and problems with speech and movement, and those who will suffer later from the associated neurological issues, like Parkinson’s, Alzheimer’s and dementia.
But you can see who obvious candidates are. We, in this sport, all can.
Pacquaio was one even before this comeback, and there is nothing that another training camp or fight will do to change that – and certainly nothing they will do to help him later in life.
“He’s a legend. He’s fought everyone,” said Barrios. “But at the end of the day, he’s just a man.”
That is all too true.
We think of Pacquiao as something more; a national hero, an icon, and the man who was on that famous trail of destruction from 2007-2010. He is not that guy any more.
He turned pro when Barrios was four months old. Now the champion is 30.
We all love a miracle. Damn, this sport could do with one right now.
But Pacquiao, for his people and his country, has always embodied hope which is why it is so sad that one of the primary emotions about his ring return this weekend is dread.
And it is not a feeling even a sentimental whiff of glorious nostalgia can make go away.
