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In violation of every expectation, and the blood oath he made to
his trainer, Manny Pacquiao put his back to the ropes. It was the
one place he was not supposed to be, gloves up in a posture that
conveyed a great dare, as he waited to take shots from the bigger
man.
"I heard that he's stronger than me," said Pacquiao. "I
wanted to test his power."
This was the fourth round of what still seemed a very close
fight, Miguel Cotto having won the opening round by establishing a
powerful jab. At best, Pacquiao's rope-a-dope seemed to defy common
sense. More likely, as you watched Cotto banging him around the
body, it was evidence of the natural welterweight's physical
superiority.
And then, without warning, everything changed. Not only did
Pacquiao escape, he began tearing into the bigger man. The flurries
came from angles that Cotto was not accustomed. "I couldn't see
from where the punch came," he said.
The most damaging of the blows was a big left that sent Cotto
down for the second time. The first knockdown had seen Cotto's
gloves touch the canvas. This time, he went down for real. You
could see it in the distant, dumbfounded look in his eyes. If it
hadn't happened so late in the round, Cotto might not have
survived.
As it happened, I had Cotto winning the next round -- a
testament to his heart and a classical style. But Pacquiao shut him
out the rest of the way, another six-plus rounds until referee
Kenny Bayless finally called it off.
By then, Manny Pacquiao -- who began his career as a
106-pounder -- looked like a heavyweight. Through that long
stretch, he became not just the aggressor but the stalker. The
bigger man kept trying to dance away, and Pacquiao kept walking him
down, closing the distance. By the end, he had made history,
becoming the first man to win titles in seven weight classes.
Of course, weight classes aren't what they once were. But
that's not Pacquiao's fault. Nor is it his greatest accomplishment.
More important, he now merits inclusion in the elite fraternity of
all-time greats.
"The best fighter I have ever seen," said his promoter, Bob
Arum. "And that includes Muhammad Ali, and Sugar Ray Leonard and
Marvin Hagler. The best fighter I have ever seen."
A buzz went though the room as Arum invoked Ali. Arum might
be practiced in the art of hyperbole, still the statement had
merit. Pacquiao is an anomaly. Who else gets better as he gets
bigger? What other erstwhile 106-pounder has become a welterweight
champion? None. Never happened before. And it probably won't happen
again.
There's never been a bigger little man. What's more, it
seemed apropos that he should borrow from the most famous big man
of all in Ali. The rope-a-dope might be a high-risk tactic, but it
allowed Pacquiao to establish a physical dominance that belied his
size.
"I yelled at him every time," said Freddie Roach, Pacquiao's
trainer. "Why are you fighting his fight?"
"I can handle it," Pacquiao told him.
With his back to the ropes, Cotto was free to bang the body
and use his left hook. "I tried to pretend that it's not going to
hurt," said Pacquiao. "But it really hurts."
He could laugh afterwards. Pacquiao, an apprentice balladeer
who said he would sing eight numbers at the Mandalay Bay after the
fight, is nothing if not a happy fighter. But to hear his
explanation, he is also a daring, if underrated strategist. In
other words, in taking punishment with his back to the ropes, he
had Cotto exactly where he wanted him.
"I was trying to control the fight," he said, pointing to his
temple. "In my mind."
He took blows few welterweights have been able to withstand.
And in taking them, the little guy looked like a heavyweight.
Cotto landed 93 power punches, compared to 276 for Pacquiao.
By the end, Cotto had a terrible gash over his left eye. His face
had become grotesquely quilted mask. His wife and son had left
their ringside seats, unable to witness more. His father asked for
a stoppage in the 11th. Finally, with Pacquiao still stalking,
Bayless granted his wish.
The Nevada State Athletic Commission ordered Cotto to skip
the postfight press conference in favor of a body scan at the
hospital. A publicist was left to convey his sentiments: "He wanted
the media to know he fought the best fighter he ever fought."
By then, everyone had heard the chants for Pacquiao's next
prospective opponent:
"We Want Floyd! We Want Floyd!"
Floyd Mayweather Jr. used to be the best fighter in the
world. But now that he's not, you'll find out how big he really is.
