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by David P. Greisman - The first right hook rumbled through Ricky Hatton, continued on to nearby cameras, beamed through satellites miles into space and traveled across the globe to countries captivated by the images on their screens.
Each subsequent shot brought tremors, reverberations in faraway nations, punches seen and heard around the world.
The entire fight lasted six minutes – seven, if you count the 60 seconds of respite Hatton had from Manny Pacquiao between the bout’s two rounds. A casual observer would ponder the length of the fight and note that it was over before it began. A student of this sweet science would have already taken his measure of the fighters before coming to the same conclusion.
Pacquiao’s speed is such that he hits before he can be hit. He is gone in a split second, his head, body, feet and hands in perpetual motion. Forget floating like a butterfly. He buzzes about like a fly that cannot be swatted. And his sting? It hurts far worse than that of a bee.
Hatton’s strength had been his willingness to take hits in order to hit. He is there at all times, punching and mauling for three minutes a round. But for all of his perpetual motion, his head is stationary, his chin is up and his approach is one of straight lines.
The entire fight lasted six minutes, ending shortly before 8:45 p.m. in Vegas when Pacquiao put Hatton to sleep early. In Manchester, England, those who had stayed up to 1:45 a.m. to watch their local hero fight found themselves caught in a waking nightmare. In Pacquiao’s native Philippines, dreams came true at 8:45 a.m. Their native son rose to the occasion, shining brighter than ever before. [details]
Each subsequent shot brought tremors, reverberations in faraway nations, punches seen and heard around the world.
The entire fight lasted six minutes – seven, if you count the 60 seconds of respite Hatton had from Manny Pacquiao between the bout’s two rounds. A casual observer would ponder the length of the fight and note that it was over before it began. A student of this sweet science would have already taken his measure of the fighters before coming to the same conclusion.
Pacquiao’s speed is such that he hits before he can be hit. He is gone in a split second, his head, body, feet and hands in perpetual motion. Forget floating like a butterfly. He buzzes about like a fly that cannot be swatted. And his sting? It hurts far worse than that of a bee.
Hatton’s strength had been his willingness to take hits in order to hit. He is there at all times, punching and mauling for three minutes a round. But for all of his perpetual motion, his head is stationary, his chin is up and his approach is one of straight lines.
The entire fight lasted six minutes, ending shortly before 8:45 p.m. in Vegas when Pacquiao put Hatton to sleep early. In Manchester, England, those who had stayed up to 1:45 a.m. to watch their local hero fight found themselves caught in a waking nightmare. In Pacquiao’s native Philippines, dreams came true at 8:45 a.m. Their native son rose to the occasion, shining brighter than ever before. [details]
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