Boxing is broken, and it was never more obvious then Friday night.
One of the top two pugilists on the planet put together another sterling performance, perhaps finally setting the table for the much-talked-about bout with Floyd Mayweather Jr. to decide who this generation's greatest prizefighter truly is.
Boasting power in his left hand that a man of his size simply shouldn't possess, Manny Pacquiao thoroughly thrashed a game Timothy Bradley.
And then all hell broke loose.
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Maybe we should have seen it coming.
If the fact there was enough late action on Bradley to move the betting line significantly didn't raise an eyebrow among fans looking for a just bout, Pacquiao's locker room lingering surely did.
The suits at HBO decided to briefly delay the main event until Miami and Boston had finished slugging it out in game 7 of their NBA Eastern Final series. Fair enough.
When it was finally time to pull back the curtain, there was Bradley -- wrapped, gloved, and ready to go. Then came play-by-play guy Jim Lampley's bewildering admission: Nobody knew where Manny was.
An amber alert was issued. Cash sniffing hounds were dispersed. Turns out -- as Pacquaio's trainer Freddie Roach relented with a sheepish grin -- the champ was waiting backstage to see how the Celtics-Heat game played out. With Bradley, fans, and ringside officials impatiently biding their time, Pacquiao -- still without his gloves taped --was then given time to hop on a treadmill so he could 'stretch his calves.'
Who's running this show anyway?
The answer to that became clear when Pacquiao emerged from his locker room surrounded by an entourage that was missing only an elephant, and a small army of bikini clad slaves to feed him grapes and fan him with oversized leaves.
As the most marketable name in boxing, the Filipino Congressman calls the shots and there's nothing fans, opponents, or boxing brass can do about it.
But Manny learned a lesson last night: You never leave the judges waiting.
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Pacquiao started to find his range and timing late in the first round, staggered his opponent several times throughout the bout, and controlled the fight until the eleventh.
Perhaps it can be attributed to rolling his ankle in the fourth round, but Bradley could offer little outside of awkward footwork and occasional flurries of strikes that resembled slaps as much as punches.
Later in the bout, he began to aggressively wade forward and ate a steady stream of counter shots for his trouble. The American was relentless, though. His cardio never in question, Bradley pushed on and made judging the last two rounds a difficult task.
But the sentiment among broadcasters, fans, fighters, tweeters, and CompuBox numbers (total punches were 253-159 in the champ's favor) was the same: Manny Pacquiao dominated this fight, and may have earned a clean sweep on the cards.
The only reason to continue watching was to see if his elephant had arrived.
Some swear the decision -- 115-113, 115-113, 113-115 in Bradley's favor -- reeks of a fix perpetrated by the villainous Bob Arum. In the fight's aftermath, the Promoter admitted he stands to make a fortune off the inevitable rematch, but also pointed out that he has never been as ashamed of boxing.
Arum simply stands to lose too much in the revelation that his business is nearing a complete lack of legitimacy.
Maybe he should introduce Manny to a PVR before he drives the final nail into the coffin of a Pacquiao/Mayweather Jr. fight… if you still care.
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