LOS ANGELES -- Visiting the great Manny Pacquiao while he is deep in training for an upcoming battle is a pilgrimage that I've taken so many times over the years.
It's an experience that never gets old. It only gets better, sweeter.
And this time was no different, even with the continuing threat of an ongoing pandemic and the lurking Delta variant.
I came last Wednesday with an entourage of six that included Bernard Condevaux, the head of medical performance for the Detroit Pistons, who presented the fighting senator with a customized NBA team jersey.
Thanks to Sean Gibbons, the president of Manny Pacquiao Promotions, we were all granted access to the famed Wild Card Gym.
Prior to meeting the sport's only eight-division champ, my party was herded to a separate room in the building, administered with Covid swab tests, waited gingerly for the results, and then ushered inside the sweatshop when everything came back negative.
It was about 3 p.m. local time when we settled inside. By then, Pacquiao had already turned in a long day that saw him run six miles at Griffith Park and crunch the brutal 1,000 sit-ups that highlight his morning routine.
And yet there he was, begging for more punishment his body could take. This is the point when greatness ends and legend begins.
After being taped, Manny ducks inside the ring. He bounces up and down, moves gently from side to side to side and shadow boxes with gusto, throwing combinations at a helpless, imaginary target.
The punches rip through the air.
Zip, zip,zip......Dat, dat, dat....
It was a joy to watch, like watching Michelangelo paint.
As he breaks sweat, trainers Buboy Fernandez and Noynoy Neri enter the scene and slip Manny with a pair of electric blue sparring gloves. Shortly after, Freddie Roach joins his prized ward inside the ring.
A WHISTLE BLOWS SHARPLY AND MANNY ASSAULTS THE THICK LEATHER MITTS WITH IMPUNITY. IT'S SHOWTIME.
The sound of fierce thunder claps bounce off the walls for the next two hours, pausing only briefly for short breaks and much-needed hydration in the steamy, sticky conditions.
Even at age 42 and inactive for 734 days, Manny doesn't seem to manifest the wear and tear of a tested warrior who had logged in a total of 71 bouts in 26 years as a pro.
He looked fresh out there and the signature power appeared intact, both of which are a tribute to how Pacquiao has taken care of his body like a temple.
Nobody literally turns back time, but Manny has done an amazing job stalling it.
Against Errol Spence, an unbeaten champ who is 11 years younger, four inches taller and five inches longer in reach, the task at hand this August 21 at the T-Mobile Arena in Las Vegas will be immensely challenging.
And that's why he is currently pinned as a plus 350 underdog. But Manny, in the course of a glorious Hall-of-Fame career, has conquered bigger mountains.
I won't be a fool to doubt what Manny can do.
Just as his three-hour workout was cooling down, the familiar sound of Neil Diamond piped in the cramped room and the boxing spectacle quickly turned into a merry sing-along.
Hands, touching hands
Reaching out, touching me, touching you
Sweet Caroline
Good times never seemed so good
Happy faces all over, fist bumps everywhere. What a way to end the day.
My son, John, was only three years old when he first met Manny. He is about to turn 18 and Pacquiao was amazed at his growth.
"Is this you?," he asked eagerly when we showed a picture of the four of us together in the third Morales fight back in 2006.
Time flies, indeed. Times change.
But some people stay the same. And that's Manny to me and my family. Always welcoming. Always a friend.
Thanks for having us, champ.
Till we meet again.
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