The best bet was on the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders.
Did they ever beat boxing to the punch the other night.
Whereas the welterweight title fight had all the sting of a swatted bee, the Cowgirls sang like miked butterflies.
Did you catch their act? The trio — decked out in stars and not much else — made "The Star-Spangled Banner" flutter. Their a cappella voices had as much beauty as their bodies.
And after "home of the brave," every fight fan was indeed ready to rumble.
Only the main event wasn't much of an encore.
It featured Manny Pacquiao living up to his PacMan billing — chomping nonstop for 12 rounds.
But from the other corner? A turtle, as an office colleague called Joshua Clottey. He crawled all the way out of Africa to spend the whole fight in a shell.
Shades of Ali's 1974 rope a dope in the Congo. That time it turned into Foreman's stumble in the jungle.
This time it was a grope a dope in Texas. With that cover-up plot, Clottey was a Ghana, all right.
So what were fans to do? The 50,000 at Dallas Cowboys Stadium — most of whom had to be Filipinos — erupted for their hero. And booed stuck-like-a-blood Clottey.
Why join them? Glad I avoided the marathon drive from the West Coast and $50 parking. The best way to watch was at a Filipino party near Disneyland. Deep dishes of Philippine food, topped by cheering. The only thing that tasted bad was my $5 raffle ticket. I pulled out a 3, off by nine rounds.
So what's next on the menu? PacMan and whoever else he wants to devour.
The Filipino Fist stands 51-3-2 and on top of the world. Make his win total 52 if he captures his congressional seat he's fighting for in May.
The Honorable Manny Pacquiao would then fly back to strafe Mayweather or Mosley in one rich goodbye party.
Talk about political pull.
With PacMan calling and dealing the shots, he better corral the Cowboy cheerleaders for another national anthem.
That would be the patriotic thing to do.
Bucky Fox is an author and editor in Southern California who runs BuckyFox.com.
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