I would be exaggerating only a little if I say that everytime Manny Pacquiao fights someone in the ring, the emotional high of every Filipino is such that he probably would give up his life in defense of the boxing icon.
Outside the ring during non-fight days, however, it is possible to regard Pacquiao with more detachment and open-mindedness. Not everyone is a fan when the Cleto Reyes gloves come off. It is just one man out there, exalted maybe, but still a man.
It is with this confidence that I dare tackle an issue that, heretofore, has not been given much airing, probably because of the lingering hangover from the latest romp over Miguel Cotto, or maybe because it is too sensitive people are scared at what they might find out.
As I write this, the camps of Pacquiao and Floyd Mayweather Jr. are trying to save what could potentially be the richest fight ever. But the last ditch effort says volumes more about the huge interest in the prospective fight than about the monkey-wrench that all but scuttled it.
For whatever reason, the Mayweather camp demanded that Pacquiao submit himself to blood testing anytime within a 30-day window prior to the proposed March 13 fight. The suggestion is unmistakable: Pacquiao could be taking performance-enhancing substances.
Surprisingly, almost nobody from the legions who would give up their lives for Pacquiao dared pick up the Mayweather gauntlet. Maybe nobody believed the yarn. Certainly nobody believes the Mayweathers.
Still, no matter how one may loathe the Mayweathers — for they are an offensive, arrogant, and foul-mouthed bunch — the provocation cannot be ignored, not only because it might have basis, but because there is a genuine need to find out.
Stung by the suggestion of possible doping, Pacquiao went to court, as if suing the Mayweather out of their pants would bring out the truth. Suing may be a convenient ducking maneuver, but it does not bring a fight to a decision.
To bring the fight to court is only in the interest of reputation. If the Mayweathers have a nickle to their accusation, or are simply playing a little game of nerves, the way to settle it is to take up the gauntlet, and not submit to the gavel.
If Pacquiao is not taking dope, to which his millions of fans would swear before the graves of their forebears, then all he has to do is submit to that blood test, even if it is not really required and even if it means playing to the phoney humbug of the Mayweathers.
By submitting to the blood test, the whole world of boxing, and not just Pacquiao or the Mayweathers, would stand to gain everything. By refusing, even if it may mean nothing, Pacquiao would leave open a crack into which every sort of insinuation will forever start to seep in.
I may be a Filipino to the core of my heart, who may wish the plague on the unfortunate face of Mayweather Sr., but there is a tugging within that same heart that says the demand for a blood test is valid in light of one aspect: Pacquiao's unprecedented rise through the weights.
Stripped of all prejudice and paranoia, one simply cannot help but be inexplicably awed by the unstoppable rise of Pacquiao through seven different weight divisions. Even if Pacquiao has already done it, the expression still freezes on our lips: Can something like it be possible?
Pacquiao is not an ordinary glutton who can pack himself with calories to a stupor. He is a boxer where every pound is a matter of serious contention. To start at 112 pounds and end up beating the giants of the game more than 30 pounds later is provocatively miraculous.
To be blunt about it, we should have started asking questions long ago. But we have been too mesmerized. We have become such huge fans. Adulation has a way of obscuring cracks and making us love what is left to see. Now it is somebody we love to hate who is asking questions.