As Manny Pacquiao announced the date of his retirement on Tuesday, one of the most extraordinary careers in boxing instantly became a little fuzzier, slipping ever so slightly from that brilliant blur of colour to acquire a sepia tinge.
And as his final fight in a 65-bout stint, if the April 9 joust with Timothy Bradley proves to be just that, draws ever closer, it is difficult not to contemplate what constitutes the legacy of the diminutive Filipino with dynamite in his left fist.
Much more than simply the best pound-for-pound fighter of his generation, however not-remotely-simple an accomplishment that is. Much more than an eight-division champion, from flyweight through to light middleweight, an achievement so barely believable that only he can lay claim to it.
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Manny Pacquiao to retire from boxing after Timothy Bradley fight
Much more than his incredible 10 world titles, or those wholly memorable scrapes with Marco Antonio Barrera, Erik Morales, Juan Manuel Marquez, Oscar De La Hoya and Miguel Cotto.
For the best part of a decade, Pacquiao ruled not just whatever weight class he resided in at that particular time, but the whole of boxing, carrying the sport through the demise of the heavyweight division, maintaining its relevance.
Perhaps being based in the UAE, with its large Filipino diaspora, the connection felt rather more real, when come fight night the Emirates seemed the best place to be were you not among the zealots and the celebrities at MGM Grand Las Vegas or huddled around a television in Manila, Bukidnon or anywhere else in his home country. From here, you could understand a little better the cult of Manny.
He certainly has that appeal. The sight of Pacquiao bouncing into any one of his many title fights, a pocket-rocket bundle of energy, eyes twinkling and smile as wide as the ensuing paycheque, appeared so incongruous, so out of sync with what awaited him inside the ring.
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In pictures: Retiring Manny Pacquiao career highs and lows
But, then, that is what made him infinitely likeable, almost relatable: this was very much a people’s champion, the guy that no matter who he faced between the ropes occupied a special place in the heart, even if the head reminded that boxing can at times be a savage art.
Irrespective of what transpired, Pacquiao v Floyd Mayweather Jr last Spring went beyond the realms of sport and became a happening, a must-see event not just for fight fans but for everyone else, too. Two bona-fide heavyweights in all but the literal sense, each some way past their peak but still attractive enough to inhabit the most prime piece of real estate in all sport. Such was their allure.
Both boxers played their part to hype up the Fight of the Century, creating the perfect storm despite coming years too late, with Pacquiao an obvious foil for a man who takes great pride in adopting the “Money” sobriquet.
Sport, as in life, is full of rags-to-riches tales, but Pacquiao epitomised that, lifted from his existence as a street vendor in General Santos and elevated to one of the most bankable sportsmen on the planet, a genuine superstar that transcended his chosen field.
Yet, among the acclaim and the financial gain, he remained, somehow, a man of his people. The Manny Pacquiao Foundation is a quantifiable example of his giving back, while it is well documented that crime rates drop in the Philippines when he fights, such is the clamour to witness a hero, one of their own, at the pinnacle of his craft.
To say Pacquiao is popular would be a gross understatement. By rising to the summit, he provided a cripplingly impoverished country hope, a beacon of light amid the gloom, offering the belief that any one of his compatriots could break out and forge their own futures. Pacquiao was a constant source of pride; in simpler terms, he made the impossible appear possible.
That there have been transgressions in his public and private life – troubles with the IRS, the extra-marital affairs – should not be discounted; in fact, they help humanise a sporting powerhouse. He can be flawed, just like the rest of us.
It does not surprise that Pacquiao, 37, wants to hang up his gloves and concentrate on a career in politics. It can be as dark and murky a game as boxing, but given his status back home, he already has more than sufficient kudos to affect genuine change. When all is said and done, that should be his legacy.
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