A few years ago, when Manny Pacquiao was still fighting the likes of Marco Antonio Barrera and Juan Manuel Marquez, some overly enthusiastic Filipinos started comparing him to the great Gabriel “Flash” Elorde, even going so far as to claim he was greater.
I did not go along with that idea because I have never considered boxing to be in the same category as this new thing called ultimate fighting where greatness is measured solely on the ability of one fighter to inflict harm on the other.
I have been watching boxing since I was in grade school at the Colegio del Santo Niño in Cebu in the 1960s, when boxing bouts were held almost every month at the Cebu Coliseum, then the mecca of the sport outside Manila.
I was so enamoured with the sport that I managed to cajole an aunt to buy me a set of boxing gloves. They were the only gloves in the neighborhood and the boxing matches that ensued were a neat way of letting off boyhood steam.
More importantly they taught us the value of sportsmanship and respect. And as we were basically fish living in the same pond, we took our victories and our defeats good naturedly. We learned early on that life was a struggle of ups and downs.
Those early experiences with boxing instilled in me a great admiration for the sport, an admiration that has not waned even in this day and age when promotional hypes have become almost unbearably incredible and the money involved almost outrightly obscene.
It is this continued admiration for the sport that I now change my mind about Pacquiao, that while I stick to my original belief that he cannot be greater than Elorde, I now think he is at least on the same level with him.
My insistence about the greatness of Elorde takes a great deal of consideration the time and circumstances in which he appeared in the world of boxing, when tv was still almost non-existent and the the exchange rate was still two pesos to the US dollar.
There is simply no way anyone can fairly compare Elorde and Pacquiao because of these unfair points of comparison. Yet, despite these shortcomings, Elorde has been elevated to boxing’s hall of fame by the gatekeepers of the sport.
Why did I change my mind? I changed my mind because I noticed something different in Pacquiao when he fought and defeated the great Oscar de la Hoya. I have seen him respect his opponent not just outside the ring but inside it, when they were supposed to blast each other.
I don’t know if many noticed it, but on at least two or three occasions, especially in the seventh and eighth rounds, I saw Manny deliberately back away from de la Hoya when other boxers would have relentlessly punched away until the other dropped to his knees in defeat.
Of course I may only have been seeing things, but if Manny did indeed back away, I would consider it not as a lack of heart on his part or a failure in good judgment. Instead I would see it as an admirable sign of respect.
Manny knew, as did everyone else, that de la Hoya was already a defeated man, that there was no way he can get out of the hole to which he has fallen in the bout. Manny knew he can finish him off with one clean shot, not by way of a merciless massacre.
I have never liked his boxing style. He is awkward. “His opponent does not know where he is coming from because he does not know either,” said one expert. But he has bombs in his fists and a heart in his chest. Those are qualities of a truly great boxer.