BOXING:IN THE back room inside his lockerroom deep in the MGM Grand, with security stationed inside and outside the closed door, with his post-fight suit-and-fedora ensemble hanging neatly in the corner, Manny Pacquiao could not have appeared more relaxed.
In an hour, he would again trade blows with his longtime nemesis, Juan Manuel Marquez, to complete their trilogy. But in this room, surrounded by a handful of his closest confidants, he attended to more important matters – such as practising his air guitar, repeating “I am a rebel” as his head bobbed up and down.
In walked Pacquiao’s trainer, Freddie Roach. “They’re waiting for you,” Roach said. “Whatever you want,” Pacquiao responded. “Don’t get smart,” Roach said. “You know what to do.”
Pacquiao grew more serious, more intense. His eyes narrowed. And he said, softly, to no one in particular: “Don’t worry. In a few hours, our job will be done.”
The task would prove more difficult and controversial than expected, as Marquez punched Pacquiao repeatedly in the face. By the 12th and final round, that face was bloody, Marquez’s right eye was nearly swollen shut and controversy hovered over the proceedings, same as always with these two.
Later, as the crowd threw beer cans toward the ring, booing loudly and lustily, the majority decision was announced: Pacquiao had won. Again. This elicited cries of robbery, from Marquez in particular. Again. These two are also likely to meet. Again.
Pacquiao’s promoter, Bob Arum of Top Rank Boxing, said afterward, “He was bound and determined to find a definitive winner once and for all.” He will aim for another rematch in May. Pacquiao also said he wanted a fourth bout. “I clearly won the fight,” Pacquiao said, his words drowned out by jeers raining down from the rafters. “It was close, but I won.”
When the final bell rung, after another instant classic, Marquez raised his right hand and jumped on the top rope as the crowd erupted. Pacquiao jogged to his corner, this fight, same as the previous two fights, now beholden to the judges’ scorecards. Tension rose, quickly filling the arena while music boomed and trainers tended to Pacquiao’s cut.
It was not Marquez, who appeared to control the fight, who won it. Instead, it was Pacquiao (54-3-2), who retained his title via majority decision, ahead by two rounds according to one judge, one round according to another and tied according to a third.
Through six rounds, this fight proved just as close, the tension just as high, the contrast in style just as stark as the two earlier bouts. Again, the counterpunching of Marquez seemed to force Pacquiao off-balance, and both men landed their share of shots. Pacquiao did not look like a 9-1 favourite, but perhaps Marquez had been undersold, underestimated, all along.
The deeper the fight went, the more Marquez flummoxed Pacquiao, flustering the champion more than any opponent, since, well, Marquez in 2008. Marquez hit Pacquiao with straight right hands and short right hooks and an uppercut or five. Yet by the end of round eight, Marquez’s right eye appeared swollen.
By round nine, the unfathomable seemed more than possible, and people began to say it out loud: Pacquiao might lose. Pacquiao is losing. The two traded punches in furious combinations, the crowd on its feet, chanting, screaming, not sure if it could believe what was unfolding in the ring. By the time the next round ended, blood trickled down the right side of Pacquiao’s face, perhaps, replays showed, from an accidental head butt.
Roach arrived hours before Pacquiao and settled into a chair in lockerroom number two. He, too, appeared calm, as he conducted his pre-fight ritual, laying tape, scissors and gauze out for the champ’s hands. Roach even helped an assistant choose between two pairs of heels, so loose was the vibe.
The first two fights in Pacquiao-Marquez – a controversial draw at 125 pounds in 2004 and an equally controversial split-decision victory by Pacquiao at 130 pounds in 2008 – were among the closest of Pacquiao’s now storied career. If you added the judge’s scorecards from both fights, Pacquiao led by the narrowest of margins, 679-678.
Marquez, naturally, disagreed. He went so far as to fly to the Philippines, clad in a T-shirt that read Marquez beat Pacquiao twice. This only irked Pacquiao, who felt disrespected. He began to train earlier and harder for their third bout, promising to answer any lingering questions with his fists.
To prepare, Marquez lifted weights and padded his body with extra pounds. He looked swollen at Friday’s weigh-in, as much a bodybuilder as a boxer. Roach saw this as an advantage.
“The guy is in shape,” he said. “He’s got all these muscles. It’s great for TV. And when he’s laying down, it will look even better.”
As the fight drew closer, Roach debated whether it would end after six rounds, or four, or even earlier. Some members of Team Pacquiao had wagered large sums on an early knockout, at 18-1 odds. They took it as a good sign when Marquez’s longtime trainer, Nacho Beristain, stopped by with gloves for Pacquiao to sign.
Pacquiao entered the ring on Saturday younger than Marquez (32 to 38), heavier (143 pounds to 142), stronger and far more famous. Compared to three years earlier, everything was different.
The question of who helped Marquez add this weight loomed, too, because his new trainer, Angel Hernandez, previously Angel Heredia, testified in the Balco trial that he supplied performance-enhancing drugs to Olympians. Both swore Marquez was clean, but Angel gave roundabout answers when asked why he used different last names.
By night’s end that mattered little. Instead, another fight between these men ended in controversy, no questions answered, except perhaps an unintended one. It seems now Floyd Mayweather Jr is the best pound-for-pound fighter on the planet. He didn’t need to fight Pacquiao to prove it, not at this point anyway.
New York Times Service
