Pacquiao Rises Again

In the first of a three-part series leading up to Manny Pacquiao's showdown with Miguel Cotto this Saturday, we revisit a seminal moment in the Pac-Man's career.


24 seconds into Manny Pacquiao’s first superfight in 2003, his ascent to boxing’s peak was almost over before it started.

After landing a lead left cross on Marco Antonio Barrera’s jaw, the two fighters’ legs got tangled, causing Pacquiao to slip and fall on the blue canvas.

Incredibly, referee Laurence Cole started flashing fingers at Pacquiao and counting to eight. The third man in the ring had, in fact, incorrectly scored the mix-up as a knockdown for Barrera.

By rule, Pacquiao instantly trailed 10-8 in a fight where the differences between him and his Mexican opponent began to present themselves.

The predominantly Mexican fan base in San Antonio almost instinctually jumped out of the 10,127 seats they occupied, filling the cavernous Alamo Dome with raucous screams and horns cajoling Barrera to finish him off. Pacquiao, in contrast, heard no reply from his own fans because they resided an ocean away in the Philippines. Even worse, the defending featherweight champion of the world had fought nine previous times at the 126-pound limit; Pacquiao once.

And if there were any question of the house fighter’s identity, Oscar De La Hoya watched ringside, his Golden Boy Promotions outfit both the lead promoter of the fight and Barrera’s handler. It was clear that almost every card in the deck was stacked against the Filipino underdog, and the bell to signal the end of the first round hadn’t even been rung.

There would be nothing to be ashamed of in the event of a loss. Long after the days of legendary flyweight champ Pancho Villa, a long line of great Filipino fighters after World War II like Flash Elorde and Luisito Espinosa had made it to the cusp of boxing notoriety in America only to fall short when it mattered most. Manny had already made his countrymen proud just by getting his name and likeness printed on a poster alongside the great Barrera. He was not only up against the man in front of him, the officiating, and the hostile crowd, but the ghosts of failures past. Most fighters in his shoes would have called it a night.

But Manny Pacquiao was no stranger to overcoming disadvantages.

Growing up in a single-parent household in the ubiquitous poverty of a third-world country, as a teenager Pacquiao would work a variety of jobs to support his family, from street peddler to construction worker. When his talent was discovered by boxing scouts, he and best friend Buboy Fernandez, still too young to either drink or vote, moved from General Santos City to Manila, the capital of the Philippines.

In his first ever bout at sixteen, Manny was so undersized that he hovered nine pounds below the contracted junior flyweight limit of 108 pounds. In fear that he would be barred from fighting (and earning enough money for him and Buboy to eat that week), he stuffed paperweights into his trunks so he could make the weight. He eventually pulled out the decision victory with a determination borne out by an uncanny ability to perform in the worst of conditions. This unusual trait would be tested early and often in the Pac-Man's career.

In 1999, with only 24 bouts under his belt, Pacquiao had not yet celebrated his 20th birthday when he was offered a chance to fight Chatchai Sasakul, the flyweight champion of the world—in Thailand. With his lack of experience, the concession of fighting on the beltholder’s home turf, and falling behind on all three scorecards, the Pac-Man somehow knocked him out in the eighth round to cement his status a national hero. (To put that achievement in perspective today, it occurred 35 pounds ago from where he will fight this Saturday.)

In 2000, in search of a new trainer to guide him to a second title at super bantamweight (122 pounds), he made the trip across the Pacific. Unfortunately, his two championship belts had all the value of Confederate dollars in American boxing circles; he had only fought overseas, making him a relative unknown in the States. Furthermore, the stereotypes then attributed to Asian fighters lacking the heart and skills to succeed against elite competition were so strong that every top trainer turned Pacquiao away from West Palm Beach to Seattle.

Manny and Buboy were so discouraged that they had decided to buy plane tickets for a return trip to Manila—until they received a tip about a gym in Hollywood and a trainer named Freddie Roach. Behind the Wild Card Gym doors, Pacquiao was lucky enough to convince the trainer with the professor-like spectacles to give him a chance.

Roach would never regret it.

One year later, after countless months honing his skills and fighting for relative peanuts in order to rise up the 122-pound rankings, the IBF super bantamweight champion, Lehlo Ledwaba, needed an opponent on short notice because his original challenger was unable to fight. Pacquiao was given the title shot, in all likelihood because of the aforementioned stereotypes about Asian fighters folding under pressure. And as always, the parameters of the fight would not come easy for Manny—being a late substitute, he would only have two weeks to train for the fight and fly to Las Vegas.

Another obstacle, another victory. Pacquiao would crush Ledwaba in six rounds to win his second world title.

The deep-pocketed bigwigs at HBO became intrigued by the young knockout artist with the fan-friendly style, and after a few successful defenses of his belt, he finally landed his shot at the big time in 2003—a third move up in weight to fight the best 126-pounder in the world and universally recognized pound-for-pound No. 3 fighter on the planet, Marco Antonio Barrera. The oddsmakers in Las Vegas hastily made “The Babyfaced Assassin” a 4-1 favorite over the Pac-Man.

Nothing was ever handed to Manny Pacquiao, and despite the scales tipped against him once more, the adversity only strengthened his resolve. It triggered him to walk down a road he had traveled numerous times before, each time the destination remaining the same.

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Cole administered the controversial standing-8 count, and the crowd noise in the Alamo Dome was deafening. Pacquiao kept his composure and finished the round.

As the challenger walked toward his cornerman, Roach would divulge to the press later that he told his ward, “We have to make him fight every minute of every round now.”

Like a good pupil, Pacquiao heeded his teacher’s advice.

Two rounds later, a role reversal occurred. This time it was Barrera dazed on the canvas, the recipient of a real knockdown via another Pacquiao left cross—a precursor to the prolonged beating of which the future Hall of Famer would be at the losing end. The thousands in San Antonio and millions watching around the world were stunned at what they were on hand to witness. As every punch landed on Barrera's head and torso with increasing accuracy and impact, the spectators soon turned the Alamo Dome into a place with all the personality of a morgue.

When Cole mercifully stopped the champion in the 11th frame and raised the underdog’s arm in triumph for his third world title in as many weight classes, it signified the greatest accomplishment of Pacquiao’s career to most observers. HBO commentator Jim Lampley likened the coming-out party to the emergence of Greta Garbo. What had gone overlooked was that he had replicated the same feat under similar circumstances several instances in the past, except this time it occurred on HBO against a world-renowned opponent.

A superstar was born, with the remnants of previous stereotypes about Asian fighters sprinkled like shattered glass all over the atmosphere of the boxing world.


Six years later, Emmanuel Dapidran Pacquiao stands today as the best fighter on Earth, owner of six world titles now after repeating the process at 130, 135, and 140 pounds. In a twist that would rival The Most Interesting Man in the World, he has singlehandedly caused military ceasefires and holds a spot on the Time Influential 100. With enough money to fill an Olympic swimming pool and his place in boxing history secure, most fighters would rest on their laurels and call it a day. Pacquiao?

This Saturday, he has chosen instead to pursue an unprecedented seventh belt against a defending champion with all of the advantages of being younger, taller, and in all likelihood, heavier on the scales.

Just Manny being Manny.

TOMORROW: Miguel Cotto's Road to Redemption


Manny Pacquiao fights for his seventh world title in as many weight classes when he takes on WBO world welterweight champion Miguel Cotto on Saturday, November 14, live on Pay-Per-View (coverage starts 9ET/6PT).