Pure greed

“Boxing is real easy. Life is much harder.”

—Floyd Mayweather, Jr.

 

By Alex P. Vidal

 

IF they have common sense and compassion, boxing organizers will not stage the Manny Pacquiao (62-8-2, 39 KOs) vs Mario Barrios (29-2-1, 18 KOs) 12-round WBC welterweight fisticuffs scheduled on July 19, 2025 in Las Vegas, Nevada.

But they don’t have them, we surmise. They are too greedy and insensitive to think about averting a potential ring tragedy.

In fact, they don’t care at all if one of the protagonists will end up on a stretcher and his main faculties permanently wrecked.

If fans expect entertainment, this bout isn’t about it. It’s cruelty, a sanctioned barbarism and no longer sport.

MANNY PACQUIAO

Even if he was once a superhuman ring dynamo who assaulted all the terrors in eight different weight divisions, age or physics will determine the capacity of a 46-year-old human body to withstand punishment and launch an abracadabra assault against a 30-year-old customer.

Their visions slightly strewn, their reflexes dull, their legs slow, the punches hurt more — but for once-retired fighters like defeated Philippine senatorial candidate Pacquiao, the hardest part can be standing still.

 

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When he lost his final fight against unknown Hiroyuki Murakami by unanimous decision in Japan on May 20, 1971, the Games and Amusement Board (GAB) in Manila reportedly “forced” Gabriel “Flash” Elorde Jr. to retire by canceling his professional boxing license.

The brave former WBC junior lightweight champion from Bogo, Cebu was only 37 and wanted to continue his boxing career despite absorbing his 27th loss since turning professional with a KO win against Little Dundee in Davao City on August 12, 1952.

Boxing authorities thought it was time for Elorde (89-27-2, 33 KOs) to hang up his gloves for his own good.

At 35, a prizefighter is considered as “over the hill” or “retirable.”  He must now protect and prioritize his health, and retirement is one way of preventing a potentially fatal brain injury common among athletes involved in hard and violent head collisions.

Elorde, one of the greatest boxers in his division, died of lung cancer before his 50th birthday in Manila on January 2, 1985.

Pacquiao is 46 and no one has thought of canceling his boxing license for humanitarian reasons to protect him from harm and preserve his legacy.

If no professional sports authority from the Philippines can do it and Pacquiao continues to stick to his stubbornness, the Nevada State Athletics Commission (NSAC) should enter the picture and seize or cancel his license.

 

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Again, it’s for his own good. There is no sense anymore for multimillionaire Pacquiao to continue fighting and risk a permanent brain damage or other injuries related to the brutal sport.

He must also preserve his legacy and avoid humiliation if he loses badly in any “farewell” fight.

When they say the last thing to go is a boxer’s punch, it gives hope to just about any boxer who can still form a fist. It is therefore not only an adage but cruel, for it suggests that where there is a punch there is always a way, analyst Elliot Worsell pointed out.

MARIO BARRIOS

It suggests that punching power will come to a boxer’s rescue in their time of need and that it will be there long after their speed, timing, reflexes and resistance have all gone.

“The problem is, a boxer’s ability to punch—hard, soft or otherwise—is often dependent on those very things and seldom is throwing a punch ever just a case of throwing a punch. To do it right, and generate power, the punch must, A) be thrown correctly, and B) land,” he stressed.

Like any toxic relationship, what starts as infatuation can later sour, and the very thing you once loved can in the end be the same thing that destroys you, added Worsell.

“This is true of the relationship most boxers have with boxing, a sport designed to cause damage, and no amount of distance or clarity prevents them being drawn back together when the time comes.

“Even though they accept that most reunions will end in tears, the outcome itself is never the point. All a tempted fighter needs to know is whether it can be done or not. They have no interest in whether it can be done well, or indeed whether it should be done. They just want to know if it is possible.

“That’s why even injuries — bad ones — are no longer a deterrent in the eyes of some retired fighters. They can be healed with time, like any trauma, and after a while a retired fighter will either compartmentalize or simply forget the pain of old,” Worsell explained.

(The author, who is now based in New York City, used to be the editor-in-chief of two leading daily newspapers in Iloilo, Philippines.—Ed)