Mexico, Puerto Rico, the Philippines and many other places never stopped producing great fighters. It's just that those fighters are rarely larger than the smallest players in our mainstream sports and few of them speak English when they burst onto the scene. To large immigrant populations tucked throughout the U.S., Pacquiao or Marquez or Miguel Cotto are just as dynamic as Kobe Bryant or Peyton Manning.

Their fights are often charged not only with violence and competition but with a nationalistic fervor rarely seen outside of the Olympics or the World Cup.

Pacquiao emerged as one of a quartet of great little guys along with Marquez, Marco Antonio Barrera and Erik Morales. The fights between those four were some of the most captivating, intense sporting events I've ever seen. For that reason, it's hard for me to think of the last decade as anything but a golden age for boxing.

Manny's stellar record against his three greatest peers earned him the moniker "Mexi-cutioner."

In the last year, he has turned his attention to higher weight classes. In June, he won a world title in his first fight at 135 pounds. In December, he bulked up further and ended the career of Oscar De La Hoya with a stunning display of hand speed.     

Pacquiao started his career at 106 pounds. He beat De La Hoya at 147. Those 41 pounds might not sound like a lot to you, but the equivalent of Pacquiao's rise in say, baseball, would be Dustin Pedroia hitting 74 home runs in 2012. It's an amazing feat, one that had aficionados reaching back to the great Henry Armstrong (he held titles in three weight classes at once) for comparisons.  

The pleasure of watching Pacquiao is the pleasure of watching a man who loves his work and has never stopped improving at it. He still has that wicked left and the knack for looking like the freshest man in the building come round 10. But he has added so many wrinkles over the years -- a better right, more balance, an ability to attack from angles rather than straight ahead. I've never seen him give a bad performance and he was beaten soundly only by Morales (a defeat he avenged twice.) 

On Saturday, Pacquiao will try for 140-pound supremacy against once-beaten Ricky Hatton.

The fight is rich with subplots. Hatton is almost as big a star in Britain as Pacquiao is in the Philippines and both will draw huge nationalistic contingents to Las Vegas. Hatton is the naturally bigger man, Pacquiao the quicker and more accomplished. Hatton is trained by Floyd Mayweather Sr., the father of the only man to beat him, Floyd Mayweather Jr. With a victory, Pacquiao hopes to set up an even bigger fight with Mayweather Jr.

Both are likable men. Pacquiao is an Ali-like figure in the Philippines. He acts, he dispenses cash to the poor when he walks the streets, he dreams of running for office. His trainer, Freddy Roach, was the same kind of relentless, small fighter, and he hasn't let Parkinson's disease stop him from running one of the best gyms in the world.  

Hatton, meanwhile, gets chubby between fights because he can't resist a pint or three at the pub. His rowdy supporters love to sing "There's only one Ricky Hatton" to the tune of Winter Wonderland.

It should all be quite a spectacle. I know $50 is a lot to spend on watching a boxing match in these tough times. But if you can gather a group of friends or get to a bar that's showing the fight, Pacquiao-Hatton should be quite a show.