I'm referring to the final media hype leading to the World Boxing Council international super-featherweight championship fight between the Philippines' Manny "Pacman" Pacquiao and Mexican ring idol Marco Antonio Barrera, a.k.a. the "Baby-faced Assassin" in Las Vegas, Nevada.
As everybody knows by now, Pacquiao won--but there was no knockout. Not even a knockdown. Barrera, ever the proud Aztec warrior who had won 63 fights and lost 5 on the way to winning titles in three different weights, showed early on what his fight plan was.
It was simple: Avoid those killer punches that felled him in 2003 at the Alamodome in San Antonio, Texas. He did that by back-pedalling all night long.
I saw the fight at the Cinema 3 of SM City Davao. Like the rest of my countrymen inside the jam-packed theater and elsewhere in the world, I was expecting Pacman, 28, to win by a knockout.
But despite Manny's credentials--44 wins, 3 losses, 35 KOs--I was still in awe of the veteran Mexican fighter--63 wins, 5 losses, 42 KOs. He was still capable of scoring an upset at age 33. Anything can happen in the ring. Anything. He was not called the "assassin" for nothing, even if the "baby-face" was no longer evident after 68 ring battles.
As Barrera emerged from his dressing room on the way to the ring, I noticed that his face was grim, expressionless under that baseball cap. I imagined he had the look of a condemned man walking slowly towards his place of execution. Or was it simply the face of a man determined to prove his detractors wrong? What was he thinking?
But then his face lit up on seeing many Mexican faces and hearing words of encouragement from them as he neared the ring. Suddenly his demeanor changed. The cheering throng of Mexicans, his own countrymen, brought back memories of past victories. He had a mission for them. He must win. Yes, but how, against his former tormentor, the man they call "Pacman".
He did try. Mightily. I noticed that he kept circling the left-handed Pacquiao clockwise to lessen the impact of that dreaded left straight, Pacman's most potent weapon. Barrera fought only in spurts, most of the time back-pedalling instead of forcing the issue, avoiding too many toe-to-toe exchanges which the Pacman relishes because of his power and speed (remember 2003?).
Soon it was all too clear as the bout went on, with Pacquiao piling up points, that Barrera was merely trying to last the entire 12 rounds and perhaps even collect a huge bet from those who predicted his KO loss by remaining vertical at the end of the bout. Not farfetched, this notion I had. A guy has to make the most out of a situation. Why not? It was to be his last fight in an 18-year career.
At the sound of the bell ending the fight both boxers raised their arms to the crowd. Pacquiao signaling his win and Barrera by way of taunting those who said he would fall in six...eight...ten rounds. The old warrior, bleeding from a cut under one eye, had proven he could take some of the Pacman's best punches while avoiding most of them for 12 rounds, thereby retiring from the sport with his head held high--after 63 wins and one more loss (only his 6th).
Plus, of course, a couple of million dollars more earned the hard way. Guess who had the last laugh on his way to the bank the next day?
