t will become a film, this story. Jeff Horn’s story.
Because it’s a tale of determination and dreaming –
about the rise of a kid from the ’burbs, those where
local shopping centres attempt to instill optimism
with names like Garden City and Sunnybank Plaza,
names that belie the reality of their surrounds.
It’ll become a film, this story, because the school teacher Jeff
Horn this year did what few outside his family and team predicted- not least the 11-time champion and one of the best pound-for-pound
boxers of the past 25 years, Manny Pacquiao.
The little Filipino landed here with scant respect for his Australian
opponent. As he saw it, the so-called Battle of Brisbane was little more
than a routine, $10m twirl.
It was obvious at the press conference. Suncorp Stadium, a nudge
to the west of the Brisbane CBD, is not a 45-minute trek from a
downtown hotel – not on a mild Wednesday morning in late June.
But it took that long for Pacquiao to front – though you could
argue he failed to ever show, given he spent his time in front of the
media busily tapping into his phone, his gaze absorbed
by a screen and far removed from the scenario before him.
Not that it mattered. The Hornet stung the little master into life
in the first round. Then the
second, the third, and on it went.
Pac Man’s reliable left hand
went missing – confused by
the unorthodox footwork
of the Aussie in black and
orange trunks. Each mislaid
throw allowed Horn to work
inside and score with quick,
connecting combinations. It
was exhilarating. The crowd
of 51,000, those who’d come
to see Pacquiao perform were
suddenly cheering the added
value of the local kid making
a go of it. More than that,
he was on top.For all the early poise and pace and promise – the script soon
began to right itself. With blood pouring from a gaping hole above
Horn’s right eye (the result of an earlier head clash), Pacquiao, the
man they also call ‘The Destroyer’, started to find his range and
soon went to town.
By the ninth, Horn was wobbling like a newborn calf – playing
a game of avoidance as Pacquiao stalked him across all corners of
the ring. In the end, he was lucky to make the bell and slumped
into his corner – staring vacantly at trainer Glenn Rushton,
the pair soon set upon by referee Mark Nelson.
“You’ve had enough,” the Minnesotan bellowed over the crowd,
“show me something in this round or I’m stopping the fight”.
No one watching would have criticised Horn should that have been
it, should Nelson have signalled the end and raised Pacquiao’s fist in
triumph. Horn had already achieved more than was expected. Much
more. He’d turned up and dominated early. He’d unsettled a champion
whose then fight record – six defeats from 68 bouts – points to how
few times he’s been unsettled.But then Horn – a state and national champion who’d also
claimed a divisional quarterfinal place at the 2012 London
Olympics – was also unfamiliar with defeat, an unblemished
professional career that,
prior to this day, read 16
wins and a solitary draw.
Round 10. Somehow, The
Hornet comes out swinging –
though he’s less effective, still
a little unstable. Pacquiao easily
counters. Still, the fight
is back on.
Eleven. Horn’s found
firmer footing and his earlier
aggression – though he’s
forced to wear some heavy hits.
Twelve. It’s gone seven
rounds longer than most
predicted. Horn wasn’t meant
to be here, let alone here and“In a way, I’d always
believed I’d make it
in something – and
this was my crack,
my last chance at
a sporting career.”
I