Walking the Talk

by Riera Mallari

“I’M gonna make you cook adobo for me, you know, then make you fry pancakes for my little kids Jimuel, Michael, Princess and Queenie. Then I’m gonna skin your fat ass, crack your big skull, chew your small brain and then turn your bones into monosodium glutamate, you know.”

That would have been Manny Pacquiao trying very hard to thrash-talk Floyd Mayweather, who only last week verbally abused the Filipino icon via Ustream.

But we all know our hero better.

A thrash-talking Pacquiao? Come on. The Pacman is all about love, baby. His thick Visayan accent may be a distraction to some, but it melts the knees of Jinkee, and all his other lady admirers—confirmed, perceived or denied (but mostly denied).

The closest thing to a rant we’ve heard Pacquiao say was when he announced to all that “Wapakman” was such a wonderful movie.

That’s how harmless Pacquiao is off the ring, especially now that the gentleman from Sarangani makes laws as a living.

A Mayweather talking garbage is no news anymore. It’s like the boy who cried wolf—we’ve heard it all before and it hardly surprises even Pacquiao himself, who for ages has been at the sad end of verbal tirades from Floyd Sr. and Jr., including uncle Roger. The entire family tree has joined the fray already and it’s crazy, man. What else is new? Grandma Mayweather badmouthing Aling Dionesia?

If there was one particular goal which Mayweather’s hateful speech successfully achieved, it was the fact that it clearly defined the two boxing icons even further, drawing a battle line between these legends.

On one side is Mayweather. Defensive specialist, check. Outstanding athlete, check. Bad guy, double check.

On the other is Pacquiao. Offensive dynamo, outstanding athlete, good guy.

Pacquiao, the nice guy, is someone you would gladly welcome to the christening of your first born. Mayweather, on the other hand, is someone you hope you won’t meet in a dark alley.

The difference between the two is more pronounced now. While Mayweather was soaking up the sun at a posh hotel’s poolside with Robin Leach in Vegas, or hanging out with Don King, or paying a bond of $3,000 after being jailed briefly on battery charges from an ex-girlfriend, or telling his Twitter fans how rich he is, Pacquiao was busy auctioning his sporting items—from signed boxing gloves and shorts, to posters and photos bearing that million-dollar smile—in order to help build a hospital in his beloved province.

I think it is safe to say that if boxing needs a face to represent itself in these times, when most of its aficionados are now turning to another combat sport to support, that face has to be of Pacquiao’s. What more can you ask for? He’s clean living now, he’s a lawmaker, he’s stylish (no need for Tim Gunn’s advice on those fedora hats and suits), he has the boxing credentials, he is well-liked by many, he’s a global superstar and a multi-million-dollar endorser. He’s also God fearing, cares for his family, country and kababayans and loves the Boston Celtics. As a first-time lawmaker, he is a fast learner and highly intelligent, too. His simple one-liner reply “that is an uneducated message” to Floyd’s racist rant is as potent as his left hook that separated Ricky Hatton from his senses.

But don’t blame Floyd for his monologue entirely as there’s a positive side to it, for it just made a possible fight between the two even more necessary.

When that fight is finally made, what do you think Pacquiao’s die-hard fans would feel, those who would take a bullet for him? Now imagine them going nuts everytime Pacquiao lands a left straight to Pretty Boy’s kisser. And then imagine Money being counted out by referee Kenny Bayless. This would have been an insane scenario—gazillions of Filipinos jumping up and down all over the world tilting the Earth from its axis to catastrophic proportions.

When Pacquiao fought Joshua Clottey, who was as mobile as an Acacia tree, people screamed their voices hoarse. Imagine what a Mayweather defeat can do to these fans’ vocal cords.

But before we get ahead of ourselves, we must realize that the unpredictable Mayweather is still half of that megafight. He needs to agree to that fight first, otherwise, all of these are just sound and fury, just like Floyd’s racist-flavored speech.

Which brings us to the meat of the matter. Can Mayweather walk the talk? All we hear from him is that he’s not afraid of the Pacman, yet he is halfway around the world mouthing a word or two, in front of a computer at that. Does he have the guts to tell it to the Pacman’s face?

Let’s be realistic, though. A Pacquiao-Mayweather fight may, or may not happen at all. But when it finally does, we’d all realize that talk is cheap. We hear it all the time—people spewing venom through their words, even politicians, who only have noisy talk to soothe the wounds, comfort the pained and assure the doubtful.

I say enough of the talk. If Mayweather says he will whoop Pacquiao’s sorry ass, then be my guest. Go ahead punk, the whole world is waiting.

It’s what one does, and not says, that matters in the grand scheme of things.

NOTE: My Kuya, RIERA MALLARI is the Sports Editor of the Manila Standard. When this article was contributed, the 8th Wonder of the World had yet to win the fight against TONY MARGARITO. Otherwise, the acts of kindness of PACQUIAO at the end of the fight would not have escaped Kuya's attention.