That Pacquiao-Mayweather fight again

By Al S. Mendoza

(Deepest condolences to the loved ones of Tia Remy Vela, who passed away on Monday at Villaflor.  The sad news came from Dr. Ruben “Boyet” Reyes Jr., the brilliant young doctor from Mangatarem and Chicago, Illinois.  Tia Remy was the mother of Dave, my dear high school classmate.)
 

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HERE we go again.  They’re reviving the Pacquiao-Mayweather fight, which got mothballed a lot of times already.

You still want that to happen?

Good luck if you say yes.

I’m not too keen anymore in having that fight staged. I’ve said that to friends a lot of times.

My reason again?

It’d be so dull a fight it might just be judged not as the Fight of The Century but as the Farce of The Century.

Because, if it should happen at all, Mayweather will never fight; he will merely flirt—flirt, at most, with disaster.

Look, even before the fight could be set, even before the agreement could be signed, Mayweather has been too aggressive dodging both and, therefore, he is essentially running away from the fight.

Afraid?  Scared of Pacquiao?

Of course, not.

How can one holding an immaculate 41-0 record be afraid, scared?

How can one so good, so shrewd, so deft at avoiding punches be afraid, scared?

How can one so fast in running, so quick in parrying punches, so expert in cutting corners be afraid, scared?

Not Mayweather.

He is about the most intelligent boxer around—atop the ring, that is.

Pacquiao has the most powerful punch in the planet today but, then, can he hit Mayweather?

Good enough if Pacquiao can even nick at a guy as slippery as eel.

I can only think of one thing why Mayweather keeps on avoiding Pacquiao.  He is sick—sorry, but he’s sick in the mind.

He’s broke but how come he keeps on saying no to a fight that could give him as much as $50 million?

Even Bob Arum is fed up.

“We should stop chasing him,” said Arum.

It should be the other way around from the very start.

In the first place, Pacquiao is the champ, not Mayweather.

But I’m just one voice.  I can only say, do, so much.

The wheeler-dealers rule boxing.  They have the last say.

In case you have forgotten, boxing has been the time-tested red-light district of sports.

Nine of 10 people here prostitute themselves just to make a match-up happen.

The reasons for a fight to be staged are as complex as Pacquiao’s jump from 108 pounds to 147 pounds—and become world champion eight times in eight different weight divisions.

If and when the Pacquiao-Mayweather bout finally happens, go on, applaud.

Celebrate a farce.

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