The Man in the Flaming Trunks. By James Velasquez.

Mr. Emmanuel Dapidran Pacquiao

8-Division World Boxing Champion

Representative, Lone District of Sarangani

Philippines

Dear Manny,

Hi boss, it’s me your old buddy, James. It’s been a while, huh? I miss the sights and smells of the Shape-Up gym up there in Baguio, the nilagang baka we ate shared for breakfast, and yeah, even Kuya Buboy and Sgt Carlos Homo trying to pull down my shorts while my camera was rolling.

Apologies for the formal opening, but it’s only fitting that I pay respect to one of boxing’s megastars and a public official here in the country. I’m writing this letter because I know you’re the only one who can help me out. I’ve been looking for this man everywhere. By any chance, have you seen him?

Last time I saw him, he was clad in Nikes, trunks with flames, and a mean scowl on his face. He’s a pretty nice guy, but when he steps inside the ring, the man transforms.

He has a devastating left hand, which he used to bludgeon opponents with, especially if you pick on his trainer (see Margarito, 2010). He has quick feet, which was on full display against a slew bigger and supposedly stronger fighters. He retired  Oscar De La Hoya, blasted Ricky Hatton to who-knows-where, beat up Shane Mosley, and Miguel Cotto has never been the same since Manny knocked him out in 10 rounds. But man, boss, this guy put on a show when he went up against the Legends of Mexico. 

He’s been called many names: Ang Pambansang Kamao. PacMan. The Pound-for-Pound Best Fighter in the World. (no, I won’t mention Wapakman and Ninong Manny, sorry haha). But there’s a personal favourite, one that fits him to a tee: The Mexicutioner.

In his two fights against Marco Antonio Barrera, he showed he had the chin and the will to go mano-a-mano with one of the toughest hombres in boxing. Against Erik Morales, one of my favourite boxers of all time, he displayed skill, speed, and power. Man he was straight up nasty on El Terrible: furious flurries, 7-punch combinations, a jackhammer-like jab, and of course the killer left. I remember talking to one of his spar-mates during the Margarito training camp. He told me, “He fights like a tornado. One second he’s here, the next thing you know he’s all over you, beating you up.”

I’m asking you for help because Juan Manuel Marquez, perhaps in his most bloodthirsty self, is going to be waiting for him in Las Vegas this weekend. Yup. Him. JMM. Dinamita. Probably the best counterpuncher I’ve seen in recent years is going all-out for one last time. I can feel in my bones that Marquez has bad intentions coming into the ring.

Boss, you’re the only person who knows where to find The Man in the Flaming Trunks. I’m sure he’s there, when you look past the success, the riches, the public service. At the core of you, buried deep within your soul, is a fighter unlike the world has ever seen. Strong, fast, iron-willed. He strikes fear in the hearts of opponents the moment his eyes turn into slits as he pounds his gloves together. He will dance his way inside Dinamita’s defense, hungry to show him what explosive really means. And once and for all, I believe he will vanquish the one foe that always dared to challenge Manny's greatness.

When you find him, boss, and I know you will – please tell him I said hi. And that he has millions of voices roaring for victory back home. Tapusin na natin ‘to, Manny.

Sincerely,

James.