by David P. Greisman - Oscar De La Hoya’s friends, those boxers and businessmen, those promoters and professionals, sat in the few ringside rows, hushed, stunned, certain that he who was once Golden would soon only be gone.
Manny Pacquiao’s fans in the stands rose from their seats to their feet, aware, from a distance, that the moment was close. Expectation begot exhilaration, exclamation, a collective roar for he who would continue to be their conquering hero.
Thirty minutes of emotion gave way to 60 seconds of catharsis.
There sat De La Hoya, framed by a red corner and red ropes to match the markings on his cheeks. Above those, his eyes wandered from person to person, like a newborn in unfamiliar surroundings, glancing toward the anticipatory murmurs coming from the crowd, looking at the physician, the referee and his trainer, all speaking of that which was to be the end.
Beyond the heaving of his chest as he caught his breath, De La Hoya was motionless. Between, beyond the one-word responses, he was speechless.
He was overwhelmed. He was over.
What would have been a bell to restart the action was instead clanging that signaled the conclusion. De La Hoya rose from his stool and trudged, gloves at his side, toward the man who walked on clouds, whose hands were now raised in the air.
“You’re still my idol, whatever happens,?Pacquiao said before De La Hoya left the ring, ceding the stage, the spotlight. [details]
Manny Pacquiao’s fans in the stands rose from their seats to their feet, aware, from a distance, that the moment was close. Expectation begot exhilaration, exclamation, a collective roar for he who would continue to be their conquering hero.
Thirty minutes of emotion gave way to 60 seconds of catharsis.
There sat De La Hoya, framed by a red corner and red ropes to match the markings on his cheeks. Above those, his eyes wandered from person to person, like a newborn in unfamiliar surroundings, glancing toward the anticipatory murmurs coming from the crowd, looking at the physician, the referee and his trainer, all speaking of that which was to be the end.
Beyond the heaving of his chest as he caught his breath, De La Hoya was motionless. Between, beyond the one-word responses, he was speechless.
He was overwhelmed. He was over.
What would have been a bell to restart the action was instead clanging that signaled the conclusion. De La Hoya rose from his stool and trudged, gloves at his side, toward the man who walked on clouds, whose hands were now raised in the air.
“You’re still my idol, whatever happens,?Pacquiao said before De La Hoya left the ring, ceding the stage, the spotlight. [details]
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