When President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. accepted a gleaming stack of gloves, belts, and battle-worn treasures from Manny Pacquiao on Tuesday, February 24, Malacañang didn’t just receive memorabilia. It absorbed a left hook of history.
“These are souvenirs from my journey,” Pacquiao said. Souvenirs? Hardly.
Those gloves are stitched with 110 million heartbeats. They thud with the echo of early-morning alarms, crowded living rooms, and prayers whispered between rounds.
And anyone who has heard him belt out, “Para sa ’yo ang laban na ’to!” knows he never fought alone. He pointed to the crowd, to the camera, to the flag—as if to say every jab had a destination and every belt belonged to a people. Ganoon kakilala. Global famous. Barangay proud.
President Marcos captured it best in his tribute: “There was never a time when we were more proud to be Filipino than when Manny was winning those fights.”
And it wasn’t just about titles. “Hindi lang siya champion sa boxing,” he added. “He is a champion of humanity… a champion in all our hearts.” In a world where fame can blur origins, Pacquiao kept his sharp. He never forgot he was Pinoy—and he never let us forget it either.
There was an era when the loudest thing in the Philippines wasn’t EDSA traffic but the opening bell of a Pacquiao fight.
Jeepneys idled. Boardrooms froze. Overseas Filipinos gathered at ungodly hours, squinting at screens as if willing jabs through Wi-Fi. And when he won? There was eruption of cheers that rival the decibels of Krakatoa’s eruption. Filipinos didn’t just celebrate—we strutted. “May Manny kami. Kayo ba?” It was less trash talk, more national thesis statement.
And just when the record books seemed complete—a title each in six weight divisions, the only boxer to ever do it—here comes another chapter. A rematch with Floyd Mayweather Jr., the defensive wizard who once handed him a tactical riddle, once held unlikely now looms. The boxing world calls it unfinished business. The Philippines calls it, “Tara, isa pa.”
But beyond the pay-per-view glare is the quieter legacy President Marcos revealed—Pacquiao quietly helping retired fighters with no income, sick and forgotten, without fanfare. No cameras. No hashtags. Just heart.
The gloves now rest in the Palace. The pride? Still laced tight around 110 million Filipino hearts.
