PACQUIAO AT THE SUMMIT
THERE was a three-fight stretch when Manny Pacquiao drew comparisons with the greatest fighters who ever lived. On December 6, 2008, he bludgeoned Oscar De La Hoya into submission over eight brutal rounds. Eleven months later, he destroyed Miguel Cotto en route to a twelfth-round stoppage. But it was in between these outings - on May 2, 2009, in Las Vegas – that Pacquiao solidified his claim to greatness with an electrifying annihilation of Ricky Hatton.
Outside the ring, Pacquiao has a gentle quality. He speaks so softly that one often has to lean close to hear what he’s saying. Despite his accomplishments and celebrity status, there’s a humility about him. He signs autographs, poses endlessly for photographs, and gives away money. A lot of money. Perhaps more than he should.
The Philippines, with 106 million people, is the thirteenth most-populous nation on the planet. Another 10 million Filipino expatriates live in countries around the world. Pacquiao was - and still is - the most idolised Filipino ever. His story is one that his countrymen and countrywomen identify with.
Pacquiao has lived in a world surrounded by need. He ran away from home as a child, reportedly because his father ate a stray dog that Manny wanted to keep. Thereafter, he slept on the streets, often in a cardboard box. He began boxing for money at age fourteen and, prior to fighting Hatton, had earned the right to call himself the best flyweight, super-bantamweight, super-featherweight, and super-lightweight in the world.
“Pacman” had crafted a 5-1-1 record against Marco Antonio Barrera, Erik Morales, and Juan Manuel Marquez. Beating
