Sometimes, the numbers tell only half the story. Manny Pacquiao has won 54 fights, 38 by knockout, and worn eight different world title belts. He is the only boxer to grace the cover of Time Magazine this century and his next fight – against Brandon Rios in Macau on Nov 24 – in Macau will earn him £11.2million, underlining his status as the 14th biggest earner in sport.
Yet to truly understand the power of Pacquiao, one must turn away from the balance sheets and that glittering CV and instead travel to General Santos, the sprawling, chaotic city in the southern Philippines where he first pulled on a pair of boxing gloves. This is where he now owns a gym and where, every afternoon, his adoring public will swarm, craning their necks for just the merest glimpse of their hero as he emerges from his bullet-proof black hummer. The atmosphere is exuberant, even euphoric, and this is just for a routine training session: for a fight, screenings can attract tens of thousands.
Pacquiao has come a long way since the days when, as a child, he was forced to sell doughnuts to try and supplement his family’s meagre income. And yet for all the trappings of his rarefied status - the swarm of minders, helpers and assistants, the eye-watering sponsorship deals with Nike, Hewlett-Packard and many others, the front-page features in the Filipino gossip magazines – this is a man who has steadfastly refused to lose touch with his public, who adore him unreservedly.
Pacquiao is all too aware of his status. On the day we meet, he is working out in a yellow T-Shirt emblazoned with the motif ‘The Champ Knows’ – a slogan which seems more suited to the political arena than the boxing ring.
“I will tell you what it means – it means, I know the feeling,” he says, in a break during his sparring sessions. “I know what is in the heart of the people who need help, and I am happy serving people because I believe that when you have experienced being poor you cannot turn your back on people when people are needing your help.
Yet to truly understand the power of Pacquiao, one must turn away from the balance sheets and that glittering CV and instead travel to General Santos, the sprawling, chaotic city in the southern Philippines where he first pulled on a pair of boxing gloves. This is where he now owns a gym and where, every afternoon, his adoring public will swarm, craning their necks for just the merest glimpse of their hero as he emerges from his bullet-proof black hummer. The atmosphere is exuberant, even euphoric, and this is just for a routine training session: for a fight, screenings can attract tens of thousands.
Pacquiao has come a long way since the days when, as a child, he was forced to sell doughnuts to try and supplement his family’s meagre income. And yet for all the trappings of his rarefied status - the swarm of minders, helpers and assistants, the eye-watering sponsorship deals with Nike, Hewlett-Packard and many others, the front-page features in the Filipino gossip magazines – this is a man who has steadfastly refused to lose touch with his public, who adore him unreservedly.
Pacquiao is all too aware of his status. On the day we meet, he is working out in a yellow T-Shirt emblazoned with the motif ‘The Champ Knows’ – a slogan which seems more suited to the political arena than the boxing ring.
“I will tell you what it means – it means, I know the feeling,” he says, in a break during his sparring sessions. “I know what is in the heart of the people who need help, and I am happy serving people because I believe that when you have experienced being poor you cannot turn your back on people when people are needing your help.
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