ON THE evening of January 22, 1995, in the tourist resort and municipality Sablayan, located in the province of Occidental Mindoro in the Philippines, a 16-year-old boy made his professional boxing debut at junior flyweight.

He came to the ring with an amateur record of 60-4 and an empty stomach, having moved to Manila from his home town of General Santos City at age 14, where he found work in construction and had to choose between going hungry or sending money home to his mother.

Twenty-six years and 12 world titles in eight different weight divisions later, Manny Pacquiao goes again this weekend in what will be his 72nd outing as a professional fighter.

Yordenis Ugas of Cuba is the opponent, the venue is the T-Mobile Arena in Las Vegas, and on the line is the Cuban’s WBA welterweight title.

Drafted in as a late replacement for Pacquiao’s original opponent, Errol Spence, who pulled out with a damaged retina, Ugas brings to the table a decent if not great record of 26 wins and 4 losses in 30 fights, with 12 of those wins by way of KO.

Despite Pacquiao going in as heavy favourite the relatively unknown rangy Ugas — 5’9” to Pacquaio’s 5’5” — could well prove a banana skin for the future Hall of Famer.

The challenge for Pacquiao and his veteran coach Freddie Roach comes in not making the mistake of overlooking the Cuban, given his much lower profile and status compared to Spence, and also in being able to adapt to an entirely different opponent and style – Spence southpaw and Ugas orthodox — with just two weeks’ notice.

Pacquiao has been engaged in an altogether different fight in recent months — namely a bruising political battle with the Philippines’ controversial president, Rodrigo Duterte, over the former’s public criticisms of his leadership.

Such is the bad blood between them that Duterte made clear his contempt at a media briefing last month: “When you are a champion in boxing, it doesn’t mean to say that you are a champion in politics,” he announced. “He’s blubbering his mouth.”

Pacquiao, a senator in the same political party as Duterte, and until recently a loyal supporter, is being touted as a potential candidate for the top job in the country’s presidential elections next May.

With all this taking place — a full-on public political battle with your country’s leader, one with a proven track record of thuggery and extrajudicial murder — you would think that boxing would be the last thing on Pacquiao’s mind.

But then Pacquiao is a throwback to a time when fighters viewed the gym and the ring as sanctuary rather than hardship, and were never more comfortable than when having leather thrown at them.

Since 2000, when he first teamed up with Roach, the now 42-year-old Filipino has split his time between the Philippines and LA, drawing crowds wherever he goes.

This writer once witnessed his remarkable popularity up close. This was back in 2015, three weeks before his mega-fight against Floyd Mayweather Jr.

I’d flown over to cover the build-up for my now published book – This Boxing Game: A Journey in Beautiful Brutality.

Pitching up outside Roach’s Wild Card gym in Hollywood, I encountered a scene of absolute mayhem. A dense crowd had formed up outside waiting for Pacquiao’s arrival and was being kept in check by police officers.

Standing guard at the entrance to the gym’s car park was the fighter’s personal security guard, checking the credentials and bona fides of people arriving to make sure they were legit.

It was all a far cry from the hot afternoon 15 years earlier, when I first set eyes on him. I was in the gym whanging away at one of the bags with more effort than skill as usual, when this high-pitched scream erupted from somewhere behind me.

Like everyone else in the gym, I stopped to look at the scrawny kid who was in the ring shadowboxing like his life depended on it.

It was Manny Pacquiao, and I recall being impressed by his crazy hand-speed as he threw combinations like a whirling dervish while jumping around the ring like a grasshopper.

He looked like he hadn’t eaten in a month, and after a few minutes I returned to my own workout thinking, “Na, he’s not going to make it.”

Over two decades on and Pacquiao has more than earned the mantle of all-time great in a sport in which the word “great” is too easily dispensed.

He has made it his business never to duck anyone in a career that has seen him involved in some of the classic fights of the modern era, going toe-to-toe with the likes of Marquez, Thurman, De La Hoya, Mayweather, Cotto, Hatton, Bradley, Mosley, Margarito, Barrera, Morales, the list goes on.

As we approach what some are speculating may be his last dance against Ugas in Vegas, it’s something of a comfort to know that in a sport all too often marred by gutter talk and bling at the elite level, there still remains a place for dignity, humility, and decency.

Manny Pacquiao is one champion who has graced the sport with all three combined.