History undeniable in fall of ‘Golden Boy’ boxing legend

Oscar Fever spiked up so high last week that boxing legend Oscar De La Hoya -- all good looks and "Golden Boy" mystique -- had nowhere to go but down during Saturday's fight of the year, succumbing to a humiliation on the level of when Brad Pitt dumped Jennifer Aniston on a thousand tabloid covers.

The scene at the MGM was a madhouse. The casino was flush with boxing fans and cash, like the good old days before the stock market crash.

The arena was all "LA" ball caps and Lakers jerseys and Americans and Mexicans and Filipinos -- 15,000 people chanting "Manny" and "Oscar" until the second round, when it became painfully obvious Filipino Manny "Pac-Man" Pacquiao was going to pulverize Hispanic Oscar from East L.A.

Some fans from Mexico even started chanting "puta" at Oscar. Once Oscar gave up before the start of the ninth round (a technical knockout), they sent him to the hospital for observation. Pacquiao slid into a suit to address the media. His face didn't look like he had been in a fight. He looked like he just got back from the movies.

"You just saw history," boxing writer Kieran "Stud Muffin" Mulvaney said.

The history was undeniable: In one year, Pacquiao (pronounced Pack-ee-ow) has won three fights in three different weight classes (the classes marked at 130, 135 and 147 pounds). He did this by ending the career of a Hall of Fame fighter.

And Manny gave a relief of revelry to boxing, which is rife with dishonor. Before Saturday, HBO presented a TV series chronicling the two boxers, but it seemed like advertising for HBO's $55 pay-per-view for the fight -- the star of whom, Oscar, was also the fight's co-promoter, as owner of Golden Boy.

"HBO didn't pay for those shows. Top Rank and Golden Boy paid for the productions," boxing writer Thomas Hauser told me. "They were basically informercials" for the match and tie-in merchandising.

Even worse, the HBO series didn't delve into the original tension that led to the fight. Years ago, Oscar allegedly gave Manny a suitcase full of $20 bills ($250,000) as an incentive to sign with Oscar's company, Golden Boy Promotions. But Manny signed with Top Rank.

Hauser asked: "How do you not mention the suitcase full of cash" in the HBO series?

It was also a joke that the undercards -- the many fights that went on Saturday night before the main event -- were duds of the highest order. In the three fights before Oscar-Manny, the losing boxers landed a combined 16 punches. One of those undercard losers landed only one punch.

"If you're gonna charge $1,500 for a ring ticket, you better put on a better show" with the undercards, Mulvaney said.

But Manny's destruction of Oscar stopped everyone from complaining about the undercards.

And his victory may help the case of boxing in Vegas, since he could feasibly fight twice in Vegas in 2009. After the brutal victory, everyone speculated Pacquiao could fight Ricky Hatton next, and/or the retired Floyd Mayweather Jr., who lives here.

"Pacquiao is a bankable, exciting star with a huge fan base," said Mulvaney, who blogged the fight for ESPN.com and covered it for Reuters. "His every move is documented" in the Philippines.

"They say, 'Speed kills,' and Oscar just got killed," Mulvaney said.

From the start of the first round, Oscar looked like an old man, hunched over in a Richard Nixon shell, trying to survive the boy wonder Pacquiao's spring-loaded torso and ball-wheel feet.

Manny spun around Oscar so fast that whenever Oscar's lunging glove reached its intended area, Manny was already pivoted to Oscar's side, popping the edge of Oscar's face, or zapping a lightning fist into the middle of Oscar's nose, over and over and over.

There was little Manny, with his shorter arm reach (he claims to be 5-feet-6 but looks 5-feet-4), jabbing at Oscar (who claims to be 5-feet-10 but looks shorter). And Oscar's face got so crimson, the rash looked like a birthmark.

By the second round, sportswriters were already mumbling, "I can't believe what we're seeing."

In the seventh round, Manny would force Oscar into a corner and land what looked like dozens of face plows and body shots. Oscar would get away, only for Manny to punch him to another corner for another dozen or two pows.

In the eighth round, Oscar dropped his hands with a look on his face, like, "Whew, I'm glad that's over." But it wasn't over. Manny saw Oscar's hands sink and punched some more. At the ninth round bell, an Oscar handler stopped his terrific crypt fall at the hands of the new Tiki god of boxing.

Oscar entered the arena with other troubles, touting both the American and Mexican flags. A Mexico City man in the VIP seats, Francisco Avila, was distressed by this and chanted "Manny" against Oscar all night. When Oscar left the arena, Avila got near him and taunted in Spanish, "Mexico or gringo!?"

"What I don't get is, why the double flags?" Avila said, with a smile. (He bet $1,000 on Manny and cashed out with $1,700.) "I think it's marketing. Half of the people here are Mexican. Half are American."

Actually, there were plenty of Filipinos there, like Jun Rico. He flew 16 hours from London to get here. Like many Filipinos, Rico loves how generous Manny is with his winnings, using money to build schools and such. (Some boxing observers fear he'll end up as broke as MC Hammer.)

"Pacquiao is an ugly person [facially], but he's a good boxer with a golden heart," Rico said.

Pacquiao rose to the top by beating quite a few top boxers of Mexican heritage. His nickname, which he hates reportedly, is the "Mexicutioner." Pacquiao tried to ease Hispanic pain at the news conference afterward.

Oscar is "still my idol," he said, and the fight was "nothing personal."

"I love Mexicans, also," Pacquiao said.

Earlier at the news conference, Oscar co-trainer Angelo Dundee -- the titan who helped Muhammad Ali and Sugar Ray Leonard -- admitted gruffly that he had been off base to predict an Oscar victory.

"I was dead wrong. Maybe I'll be right next time. What's the difference?"

What's the difference? He was as wrong as possible about the biggest fight of the year. But that's boxing, all bluster and promotion.

Boxing writers still have a bigger complaint: In most sports, there is one unifying organization, like the NCAA. In boxing, there are four main organizations, plus smaller ones. To be a unified champ, a boxer would have to pay big fees to all the organizations and win their belts. That's absurd.

As Mulvaney said, fighters are recognized unofficially for being a champ only when "you're the man who beat the man who beat the man."

On top of all this, the MGM crowd booed Saturday's undercards. One reason Ultimate Fighting Championship is gaining in popularity is because fans know they'll get a full card of exciting fights in one night, top to bottom.

Boxing has sprinkled things up with window dressing. On Saturday night, ring girls in shiny, silver skirts and bras inspired guys to whistle at them and hoot, while loud speakers blared pop songs.

"They play music in between rounds," Mulvaney said. "This is considered quite an innovation when it happens."

So, maybe boxing owes some people a sack full of "sorry"s, or maybe not, since it delivered another unexpected and entertaining surprise of a match, which Mulvaney said was one of the three most exciting he's ever seen.

It was tiny Manny Pacquiao who trained hard to deliver this blessing. But it was boxing's most famous new loser who turned Saturday night into a salvation.

"De La Hoya always said that he'd know when to hang it up," Mulvaney said. "But sometimes, you only know after you get the (expletive) knocked out of you."

Doug Elfman's column appears on Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays. Contact him at 383-0391 or e-mail him at delfman@reviewjournal.com. He also blogs at reviewjournal.com/elfman.