WORD from the corner was he was fast as usual.  Tip top shape.  Championship caliber.

Not true.  The world was taken for a ride.

Again, boxing was just being true to itself.  To build up hype, you've got to lie.  No problem.  This sport is eternally peopled by suckers.

Who's got the gall to say the world's darling in boxing isn't ready to rumble?

A mob would lynch him.

Freddie Roach knows that.  That's why he needs to lie.  Part of the script.

"He's so battle-ready that I can see him winning by a knockout," he said.

But Manny Pacquiao, at 42, has become an adulterated product when he fought Yordenis Ugás, 35, last weekend.

Sad, but Pacquiao was but a fraction of himself against Ugás. Tools that made Pacquiao a legend were gone: Unparalleled footwork. Hand speed.  Impeccable reflexes.

Pacquiao was missing shots when, in his heyday, missing was almost as alien to him like greed is to Robin Hood.

There was no more sting in Pacquiao's punches, no more lateral movement from his winged feet of old, when he forced his foes to go hide-and-seek atop the ring.

Thus, the much-anticipated Sunday Suspense Theater quickly appeared like a Sunday Suicide Theater.

With Ugás looming like the ruthless, axe-armed executioner—his bulging, muscle-bound arms point to that—Pacquiao had to thank his guardian angel for keeping him safe. No knockout, please.

Ugás deserved the unanimous decision verdict.

I saw him the 115-113 winner. I gave him the last three rounds where Pacquiao had practically lost everything and had to lean on instinct to last the distance.

But, overall, Ugás wasn't that good.  He knew how to fight but he wasn't a brilliant fighter in the mold of Pacquiao's previous victims—all eminent: Cotto, Hatton, Morales, Barrera, Marquez, Margarito, De La Hoya.

Ugás looked good only because he was fighting a Pacquiao looking every inch bound for the home-for-the-aged.

Ugás was chiefly a run-of-the-mill kind.  Jab-jab, followed by a right.  One dimensional.  If Pacquiao were in his prime, Ugás would have been dead meat.

And didn't Roach tell us he has found a cure to Ugás's overhead right—the Cuban's weapon of note?

Alas, it kept landing on Pacquiao's face and left ear—which was proof once more of Pacquiao's dulled defensive skills.

Good thing Ugas's "bolo punch" popularized by the great Filipino banger Ceferino Garcia (120-30, win-loss card, with 76 KOs) didn't inflict serious damage on Pacquiao.

In short, Ugás was not totally world-class.  Pacquiao was just being polite when he said he lost to a better fighter.  Statesmen talk that way.  Or, better yet, politicians talk that way?

Whichever, what was clear was Pacquiao helped Ugás score his 27th win against four losses by truthfully essaying his role as an old man trying to be young, if not smart.

No one can turn back the hands of time.  Not even legends.

THAT'S IT All the best to the Philippine Basketball Association teams led by San Miguel Beer now practicing inside a semi-bubble in Pampanga. Hopefully, the league resumes action next week…Happy birthday to Senate President Tito Sotto (August 24). Cheers!

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