AS Manny Pacquiao prepares to meet Australian schoolteacher Jeff Horn, I’ve been remembering the good times: the nights when Pacquiao’s star blazed brightly in the boxing firmament. The nights when the tireless tornado cut legends down to size.
Pacquiao diehards will argue over the little guy’s best performances. Boiling a Hall of Fame career, with titles won in seven weight classes, down to a handful of wins is no mean feat. Nevertheless, this is my rundown of Pacquiao’s greatest moments as I see them.
Chatchai Sasakul (1998)
In boxing terms, Pacquiao was just a kid when he challenged WBC flyweight boss Chatchai Sasakul. The 28-year-old Thai champ had the distinction of having beaten every man he’d ever faced: he’d claimed the belt a year earlier, revenging a ’95 defeat to Yuri Arbachakov: so it was a big ask for the 20-year-old in his first crack at a world title. After all, only two years had passed since his crushing KO defeat to unheralded jobber Rustico Torrecampo.
This, however, was a golden opportunity – and Pacquiao seized it with both hands. The action in the early going was cagey though, the challenger stalking, the champ circling and landing a few clever counter jabs. Before Freddie Roach got his hands on him, Pacquiao was raw and guileless and a little flat-footed; he also threw far fewer punches. The action heated up in round two, Sasakul belting Pac with a hard right hook, the underdog continuing to pursue while firing wayward straight lefts.
Sasakul may have won the first three but he was being forced to stay on the move by the enterprising young gunslinger, who landed a quick one-two in the fourth that knocked him on his heels. Now the champ could be in no doubt: he was in a fight.
Pacquiao’s unrelenting style meant he walked onto some clever shots in the fifth, but it was obvious Sasakul didn’t possess the power needed to dent him. To win, he would have to rack up points by making his man miss and countering the incoming whirlwind attacks. It was a strategy that required ridiculous reserves of energy. In the seventh Pacquiao actively went for the knockout, bobbing and weaving into range before launching wild haymakers, chasing Sasakul from one quadrant of the ring to the other. Although the Thai was still effective on the counter – picking neat little shots and laying a blueprint for Juan Manuel Marquez to follow years later – the momentum of Pacquiao carried into the eighth. The creeping sense was that the champion, wily though he was, would soon wilt. Sasakul lost his shape in this round, his punches becoming ragged, his game plan unravelling like a ball of yarn. When Pacquiao crashed a booming left into his jaw he fell face-first onto the canvas, gloves either side of his head. In a way, it must have been a kind of relief.
Marco Antonio Barrera I (2003)
In 2003, Marco Antonio Barrera was widely regarded as one of boxing’s finest practitioners. The featherweight king had not suffered defeat since dropping a contentious split decision to nemesis Erik Morales three years earlier, and in the interim had scalped the unbeaten records of both Naseem Hamed (35-0) and Morales (41-0) in a rematch. Although Manny Pacquiao was a two-weight world champion in his own right, few of the 10,127 spectators in attendance expected the rakish 24-year-old to pose Barrera many problems.
In 11 furious rounds, they were disavowed of that notion. Barrera started cautiously in San Antonio, as was his custom, throwing out jabs and trying to get the measure of the challenger. Pacquiao seemed unfazed by the occasion, holding his gloves high. Within 30 seconds he cracked Barrera with a straight left before clumsily tripping over his own feet; referee Lawrence Cole quickly intervened and credited Barrera with a knockdown. In any case, the ruling conned Marco into thinking Manny was hurt and he suddenly went about his business with more vigour and purpose. The challenger returned fire and though he seemed quicker, Barrera was the one who looked more powerful.
The fight wore on and Pacquiao started to take over. Barrera’s fondness of operating at three-quarter range and methodically picking his punches was no match for the Filipino’s speed, energy and power. Manny’s accurate left started marking up the champ’s face in the second, an arrow leaving indents in a dartboard, and one such shot put the Baby-Faced Assassin down in the third.
The pattern from here on was clear: Pacquiao would not be denied. All of Barrera’s skill and patience and experience and timing and wisdom and bravery would count for little against a fighter Larry Merchant described as “a little avalanche”. Sure, Barrera would sometimes land hard punches, but after kissing the canvas he was always conceding ground, back-pedalling, boxing from a defensive position. An ageing matador repeatedly gored by an irrepressible young bull.
The fight ended in the 11th, Barrera’s corner throwing in the towel as their man tried to fend off yet another strafing attack. Pacquiao had dethroned the czar of the featherweights and a star was born.
Erik Morales II (2006)
In their first fight – perhaps Erik Morales’ finest hour – the legendary Mexican called upon all his ingenuity and experience to turn back the Pacquiao assault. ‘Could he repeat the feat?’ was the question swirling around the rematch less than a year later. ‘No’ was the short answer, though the fight itself was another modern classic, a bruising brawl that saw the teak-tough El Terrible suffer a maiden stoppage defeat.
Morales had dealt Pacquiao’s aura of indestructibility a major blow by outpointing him first time round, but in the return Pac was needle-sharp from round one. He snapped out a fierce-looking jab from behind a high guard, wary of falling into Morales’ precise and hurtful counters. Instead it was Morales falling in, whereupon Pacquiao unleashed the right hook Freddie Roach dubbed ‘Manilla Ice’.
The Filipino was on the front foot, but boxing with more caution and intelligence than in their first encounter. Clad in his preferred Reyes punchers’ gloves rather than the Winning mitts he’d described as pillows, he cracked Morales with a straight left midway through the second. Ever tenacious, the veteran stood his ground and returned fire, both soon winging away with abandon. Pacquiao, however, was the one ending the exchanges, driving his man across the ring. In this fashion he moved Morales towards the corner and delivered another scything left, which caused the Mexican to stagger backwards and steady himself on the top rope. With Floyd Mayweather Jr. cheering from ringside (yes, Pretty Boy was once a big fan of his future nemesis), the southpaw closed out the second with a few more belting right handers.
In his 52nd fight, Morales found himself in the unenviable position Barrera had been in three years earlier: facing down a sparky, lethal-punching opponent who would not leave him alone. Like Duran in the DeJesus rematch, Pacquiao was on a quest for vengeance. Nevertheless, Morales had his moments: he dictated the pace in the fourth and fifth, Pacquiao working on unpicking the lock of his defence; in the sixth Manny was back on it, putting together quickfire combinations to body and head and finding a home for the zipping straight left. At the bell, Morales was staggering once more.
In some ways, Pacquiao’s career bifurcates on this night. Pre-Morales II, he’d been little more than a fearsome firecracker; now he added maturity and ring-craft to his armoury, morphing into a well-oiled machine that fired on all cylinders. His hounding two-fisted attack had Morales troubled in the ninth, and in the 10th a chopping left to the temple put him down. The proud warrior rose to his feet, his face badly pulped, but Pacquiao – after blessing himself – walked straight forward and launched four blitzing lefts. Morales fell to his knees and the ref waved it off.
Up to that point, it was the fight of Pacquiao’s life. The era of Barrera and Morales was well and truly over.
David Diaz (2008)
Given that Pacquiao’s resume is so replete with future Hall of Famers, it’s unsurprising that some of his blistering performances vs. lesser entities get overlooked. In March 2007 Pac-Man was coming off a razor-thin decision win over Juan Manuel Marquez in their much-anticipated rematch. A reassertion of fistic brilliance was required and the Filipino fireplug duly delivered in his lightweight debut, producing one of his most complete performances to overwhelm WBC champ David Diaz.
Pacquiao was a typhoon that night. It was as if the hotly-disputed Marquez fight had breathed fire into him and Diaz was the unfortunate recipient of much pent-up fury. The bazooka left hand was firing but so too was the seldom-seen right hook which he mostly launched as a lead. From the opening bell he slugged the tough champ with every punch in his arsenal, lightning-quick power shots that even when landing on Diaz’s solid guard seemed to resonate right through his body.
All night long Pacquiao skipped in and out of range with boundless energy, launching snappy right hooks and uppercuts and making a bloody mess of the gutsy Diaz’s face. In the fourth HBO’s Jim Lampley gushed “A southpaw Jack Dempsey in the lightweight division! A nonstop aggressor with speed and power beyond compare!”
In the fifth Lampley observed that “Pacquiao’s ability to put his punches together with blinding speed is amazing.” Midway through that round the challenger hit Diaz with an electric eight-punch combination – a succession of short hooks and uppercuts – that took just three seconds, from first shot to last. One round later, a rat-tat-tat twelve-punch salvo caused JL to jump excitedly out of his chair. “The Pacquiao storm once again continues! A tsunami! A hurricane! A tornado! Incomparable ring violence for this era in boxing!”
The end came in the ninth, Diaz bludgeoned with a knifing left that buckled his knees and sent him sprawling to the canvas jaw-first, whereupon he rolled onto his back and remained there for some time. “A flame of pure fire,” Lampley remarked.
Miguel Cotto (2009)
11 years after winning his first world title, Pacquiao signed to face two-weight champion Miguel Cotto. Outside of the Mayweather clash, it is still the most-watched fight in the Pacquiao canon – and for good reason. Their styles were always destined to gel: Cotto the powerhouse body puncher with smooth boxing skills and a warrior’s mentality; Pacquiao the redoubtable Action Man, swinging for the fences from the opening bell. Something had to give.
If the KO over Hatton had persuaded fans that Pacquiao had a shot against Floyd, the manner of his win over Cotto convinced many he would actually win.
That night in Vegas, the little Filipino cut another future Hall of Famer to ribbons with an exhaustive, all-angles assault, bludgeoning the durable all-rounder from pillar to post and drawing ever more members into the growing Cult of Manny. Of course, it wasn’t plain sailing from the start.
Two-weight champ Cotto came out full of purpose, dictating with the left jab. By contrast Manny was lunging in and getting countered. In the second Pac’s own famous left started to land in earnest but Cotto – who must have reckoned that his size and strength would tell as the bout progressed – appeared untroubled, landing a meaty left hook at one point, drawing loud cheers from the crowd. The third was the round in which the fight caught flame, Manny winning the gunfight by knocking Cotto to the deck with a deceptively powerful right hook. Amazingly Miguel recuperated and stunned Pac with both a well-torqued left hook and defiant uppercut soon after. This was war, no mistake. Cotto wore the same intensely focused expression as he’d worn in the Margarito dogfight a year earlier.
In the fourth he had to call upon that admirable tenacity once more as Pacquiao’s fluid left put him down for the second time. From then on the proud Puerto Rican, like David Diaz and so many others before him, could do no more than postpone the inevitable. Despite his considerable gifts – despite his experience and power and calculus – he could proffer no answers to the Pacquiao Puzzle.
Manny moved quickly through the gears, shrugging off Cotto’s increasingly ineffective jabs, his fearless and swarming attacks leaving the crowd in no doubt that they were watching an artist paint his most ambitious canvas to date. The paint was blood-red and splattered over Cotto’s face; his family sensibly vacated their ringside seats after a savage ninth. Their man lasted until the 12th, a mark of his machismo, but Bayless had seen enough and mercifully waves it off before the toll of the final bell. Pacquiao, wearing a broad grin, might have been good for another ten rounds. Has he ever looked better?
