Antonio Margarito isn’t the “Ti­juana Tornado” anymore.
Start practicing it. So, all to­gether now: “Tijuana Tomato.”
It’s almost always sad to know the truth. But as The Good Book says, “Truth will always out.”
And, this time, Manny Pacquiao helped unveil the truth.
He unmasked Margarito as the “Tijuana Tomato” and not “Tijua­na Tornado.”
Margarito’s face said it all after the battering the Mexican suf­fered at the hands of Pacquiao on November 13 at the Cowboys Stadium in Arlington, Texas.
Oh, yes, Pacquiao failed to knock Margarito out as the world was expecting, including me.
The 32-year-old Mexican was some kind of a predator not to be felled by even the most telling blows a guy like the 31-year-old Pacquiao could unleash.
Was it because Margarito bal­looned to 165 lb on fight night compared with Pacquiao’s mere 148 lb?
That was easily a difference of 17 lb. Huge, indeed.

The height deficit of five inches Pacquiao had easily vanquished as he kept hitting Margarito in the face at will, resulting in the right eye of Margarito to be virtually closed even before Pacman was announced the winner by a unan­imous decision.
It was, most probably, in the weight advantage that helped Margarito deflect a knockout.
His bulk margin might have – or must have? – absorbed the impact of Pacquiao’s knockout blows.
Anyone who saw the fight would readily say an opponent with the same weight Pacquiao had car­ried into the fight might have fallen before the sixth round.

Pacquiao was simply too strong, and his killer punches were as precise and accurate as a Swiss watch, let alone a Rolex.
And yet, Margarito survived one telling blow after another that if you wondered why it was so, I’d offer the opinion that the Mexi­can wasn’t burrito and tortilla but brute and tank.

How Margarito was able to sur­vive about 400 punches of solid power, to remain standing after 12 rounds despite a face rear­ranged into a big, red tomato, is something worthy of a Guinness record.
I can only shout, Viva Zapata! I can only yell, Salute!
I can only say, I pray that Mar­garito doesn’t go blind after hav­ing that badly-battered right eye after the fight.
If that was also the prayer of Pacquiao, now the owner of eight unprecedented world titles, when he did his customary praying as he knelt by the ring post after the fight, I’ll not be surprised.
It has been that way for this phenomenal man risen from pov­erty since he turned pro in 1995 at age 16.

(Sun Star, Nov. 19)
I dreamed I knocked out the refereeI had a dream. I fought Mike Tyson.
I was hitting him at will.
He wouldn’t fall.
Going to the 10th, Tyson’s eyes were virtually closed from the heavy bombardment I was ad­ministering him.
He was now fighting virtually blind.
I unloaded more shots enough to knock out an ox.
Or so I thought.
Tyson couldn’t be taken out. Was I up against The Termina­tor? The Predator?
Tyson never even teetered. Or reeled.
Tough as nails?
Maybe.

In the 11th, I slowed down. I couldn’t take it no more.
I couldn’t stomach hitting one who couldn’t fight back anymore. Not my nature to punch a defenseless foe.
I remembered what the referee said before the fight: “Protect yourself at all times.”
I could see that Tyson couldn’t protect himself anymore.
It was also clear the referee could see Tyson as being unable to fight anymore. He has become as defenseless as Marcos was against People Power in ’86.
But the referee did nothing.
Even as I glanced at him not just once, twice, but a number of times to beg for him to end the carnage.
Thus, in the entire 11th round, I did nothing but go through the motions. I even wanted Tyson to hit me, but he couldn’t.
How could a blinded, bloodied and badly battered fighter ever fight?
Then, as the bell sounded for the 12th, I woke up.
Ah, what a relief.

Immediately, I drank beer. No, gulped beer.
Gulping makes for quick satis­faction.
Then I remembered Pacquiao. He couldn’t knock out Mar­garito.
Simple: Pacquiao, at 148 lb, was far from being a super wel­terweight.
Margarito, at 165 lb, was more than a full middleweight.
The mismatch in skill, speed and power belonged to Pac­quiao.
The mismatch in weight gave the fight, in a manner of speak­ing, to Margarito.
With that 17-lb discrepancy, Pacquiao could never ever knock out Margarito. Even if Pacquiao had put plaster of paris in his fists.
Now I also know why I couldn’t knock Tyson out.
I was a mere 150-3/4-pounder fighting Tyson at 210-lb.
Even if I had surgically embed­ded rocks in my fists, no way.
Never would I knock out a di­nosaur as huge as that.
Even if it was only a dream. What if I knocked out the ref­eree instead?
After all, it was but a dream. (Manila Standard-TODAY, Nov. 22)

The world is changing and Pacman’s to blame
THE world is changing. No, it is not because America produced its first black president in Barack Obama. Or global warming is a real threat to hu­mankind. Or even the electric car can soon fly.
The world is changing because of the Filipino.
First, it was Cory Aquino, the “mere” housewife who toppled a dictator and became a world icon in democracy.
Twenty-four years later, in 2010, Manny Pacquiao came along. He did not only rewrite yet boxing history, he made the world stop turning to salute yet another Filipino.
Virtually unschooled due to grinding poverty, Pacquiao rose to become not only the most im­portant Filipino of his era, but also the most significant, most recog­nizable, figure in the universe the last 10 years or so.
So amazing is his climb to the world stage through his fistic fusil­lades that the din of cheers keeps resonating from Manila to Mana­gua from a discerning world au­dience that collectively applauds only once a decade.
Poster Boy for Philippine tour­ism?
Anytime, though, too puny an honor for a man who has more than doubled the achievements of Muhammad Ali, long acknowl­edged as the greatest boxer of all time.
Ali was the three-time world heavyweight champion to begin with.
Pacquiao could have eas­ily achieved that, too, but God doesn’t give us everything.
For His vast, unequaled and, therefore, unsurpassed powers, God doesn’t play favorites and distributes attributes equally, jus­tifiably.
So, He gave Pacquiao, too small to balloon to a heavyweight like Ali, seven world titles (that’s not favoritism?), making the Bukidnon-born southpaw the first seven-division champion.
You think that’s it?
Think again.
Because, maybe, Pacquiao is a deeply religious person who eter­nally professes that he owes every ounce of power in his killer fists to God, dear God believes and de­cides to give him one more: the world super welterweight crown only last Sunday, November 14.

Tell you what.
Who in the world has had five, six, world boxing crowns?
Oscar De La Hoya was one of three: Five world crowns.
But wasn’t he whipped so bad by Pacquiao that he’d retire for good after failing to answer the bell for the 9th on Dec. 7, 2008?
In his next three fights after that, Pacquiao won his sixth world crown by knocking out Ricky Hat­ton in two rounds on May 2, 2009 (140 lb); pocketed his seventh world title by stopping Miguel Cot-to in the 12th on November 15, 2009 (147 lb); and, captured his eighth world diadem by battering a hapless, helpless, Antonio Mar­garito for a 12-round unanimous decision victory on Nov. 14 2010 (154 lb).
Before that, Pacquiao captured the 112-lb world crown in 1998 only three years after he turned pro at 106 lb. Next, he would win titles in 122 lb in 2001, 126 lb in 2003, 130 lb in 2008 and 135 lb also in 2008.
No one, male or female, will ever erase, let alone equal, such feat. The world, indeed, is changing. Blame it on Pacquiao.


THE following are columns that appeared in Manila Standard-TODAY and Daily Sun Star Publications in Cebu, Davao, Cagayan de Oro, Bacolod and Baguio. I’m reprinting them for I don’t want to repeat myself on the Pacquiao-Margarito Þ ght, a classic for the ages. Enjoy!