The only man who can make everything (from commerce to partisan strife) in this nation stop, was himself stopped dead, knocked out cold in the sixth round of his fight. What followed was a paroxysm of grief, a stunned nation groggily asking the question “what happened.”

Even those who knew that this thing would eventually come—only not this year but later—were shell shocked by the suddenness of it all.

Manny Pacquiao, the Pambansang Kamao, the only man who can place everything in this country on hold, or at a virtual standstill, was KO’d, and for less than a minute lay prostrate on the canvass. The young men I relieved from their pigpen-cleaning chore while the fight was on the cheap farm TV detailed to me the sad sixth round of the Pacquiao-Marquez fight, sort of mumbling the sad news, words choked by sadness and the incredulity of it all.

Usually it was whoops and perfectly explainable boisterousness from the young men that marked the end of a Pacquiao fight. Usually, it was vigorous steps that marked their return to work. Usually, I turn over the cleaning chores to young men pumped by the adrenalin of a Pacquiao victory. On Sunday, I turned over the broom and water hose to dazed young men who seemed to be young dead men walking.

I subbed for them during Pacquiao fights. I subbed for them on Sunday. They watched TV while I cleaned the pig pens. I don’t watch fights but even I had been infected by Pacquiao’s sense of invincibility. More or less, I had an idea of the outcome.

Now this—and the aftermath—the aptly termed pornography of grief.

What is an entire nation, whose measure of happiness essentially rests on the conquests of Pacquiao in the ring, to do? The nation is clueless, shocked to its core, still existing in a universe where Pacquiao is invincible. The perfectly logical reason, that in boxing a lucky killer punch does exist, has yet to sink in a context that assumes Pacquiao’s invincibility.

And the equally clueless bloviating from so-called fight experts, whose numbers have risen with Pacquiao’s many wins, has not cleared up the reason for the loss either. A simple thing—a lucky, hard, killer punch delivered—has been lost in the complex but retarded explanations of Pacquiao’s sad KO.

It is in this cluelessness that we go to Keynes, whose writings about depression economics now serve as a policy clutch for struggling economies around the world. In the long run, wrote Keynes, we will all be dead.

If not physically dead, we will all be stripped of glory, of fame, or mass adulation. In invoking this verity, this one sure thing in life, we will be able to move on after the stunning Pacquiao loss.

OK, let us take Muhammad Ali, to many the world’s greatest heavyweight fighter, or the world’s second best fighter after Sugar Ray Robinson.

Ali’s iconic fights, among them the Thrilla in Manila and the Rumble in the Jungle, still rank very high on the list of the most remembered fights in history. His conversion to Islam, his principled opposition to the Vietnam War, the articulation of his thoughts and beliefs and social activism made him a public figure, as these involvements were not done during his time—and still rarely done now.

In the area of social activism, only one other athlete of exceptional ability, Bill Walton, got involved in social causes as deeper as Ali.

Where is Ali now? The Sportsman of the Century (Sports Illustrated, 1999), the boxer who “floated like a butterfly and stung like a bee” is now being slowly wasted by Parkinson’s Disease. During the opening ceremonies of the Summer Olympics in London the titular bearer of the Olympic flag could not even stand for the occasion without help.

Who else but devout ring fans still remember Sugar Ray Robinson, or his latter-day-incarnation, Sugar Ray Leonard?

A sad feature article has revealed that Leon Spinks, a one-time heavyweight champion, used to work for minimum wage pay at a popular fast-food chain, mopping floors and dumping the garbage.

Sadder were the lives of Joe Frazier, who, until his death, had not recovered from Ali’s Uncle Tom taunts. Or Mike Tyson’s descent from boxing glory into a life of bankruptcy and personal vileness.

In the long run, we will all be losers. And all glory in this world shall come to pass.

Of course, of course, those who lived in the world of great ideas, like Keynes, will always be relevant. Ka Blas F.Ople, whose 9th death anniversary will be on Dec 14, remains relevant today. The foreign policy conundrum that besets the Philippines and the rest of Asean is precisely a context that requires the big, bold policy platforms that can only come from Ka Blas.

Ka Blas, if he were alive today, could have provided us with wise and learned counsel, especially on matters of navigating the critical waters between peace and chaos, stability and unpredictability.

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