Manny Pacquiao’s announcement that his next fight will likely be his last comes as no surprise.

Indeed it is highly likely he would have retired after his last fight against Floyd Mayweather Jnr if his performance had not been so disappointing, especially with Mayweather retiring after his last fight against Andre Berto on September 12.

The 36-year-old Filipino legend said: “I think I’m ready. I’ve been in boxing for more than 20 years.”

It is hard to escape a feeling of sadness when reading these words, which come across not as those of a fighter who will depart the sport happy and satisfied with everything he has accomplished — accomplishments that by any measure have been huge — but as someone who no longer enjoys the grind of gruelling training camps, sparring and the pressure of performing and meeting the inordinate expectations that come with being a national hero.

The truth is that the glory days for Pacquiao have been over for some years now, with the Mayweather fight only confirming the iron law of a sport that comes close to nature than any other — namely that when it’s gone it is gone and nothing can bring it back.

Manny’s reign as one of the greats of his era came to a shuddering end at the hands of Juan Manuel Marquez, his ring nemesis, in the sixth round of their fourth meeting on December 8 2012.

The Filipino southpaw walked into the kind of right hand that ends careers, in some cases even lives, in an instant. Yes, it was that brutal.

The sight of Pacquiao lying inert on the canvas afterwards is not one that makes a strong case for professional boxing being considered a legitimate sport.

Marquez is the one fighter who had Pacquiao’s number and arguably should have won three of their four fights.

Instead he lost two, drew one and won the last. They fought 42 rounds in total, which count among the most competitive ever fought in the sport.

But Pacquiao’s career cannot be judged by the Marquez fights alone. In his prime he was a ferocious fighting machine, who combined frightening and fearsome power with relentless aggression.

His partnership with Freddie Roach at the famed Wildcard Gym in Hollywood saw them both reach the heights of their respective trades, with Pacquiao recording some immense performances that will be held up as examples of excellence in years to come.

The golden period of his career unfolded over a three year period between 2006 and 2009, when the fighter affectionately known as Pacman was invincible, rolling over the likes of Erik Morales, Jorge Solis, Marco Antonio Barrera, David Diaz, Oscar De La Hoya, Ricky Hatton and Miguel Cotto.

The only ever eight-division world champion, winning 10 world titles, the Filipino at one time seemed to be sprinkled with stardust, he was so popular.

A backstory that involved a childhood spent in extreme poverty in General Santos City only cemented his status as a people’s champion, the most meaningful title that any fighter can hope to achieve.

In this regard Pacquiao never forgot his beginnings or those he left behind, donating a huge proportion of his wealth to helping the poor in the Philippines, where he vied with Jesus as the most beloved icon in every home.

Indeed, though he could have opted to leave the Philippines behind for the glitz and comfort of a gated community in the Hollywood Hills, Pacquiao dedicated himself to his country, spending most of his time there and in later years going into politics when he was elected to the country’s House of Representatives for the first time in 2010 and subsequently re-elected in 2013.

Of the 65 fights on his record, by far the most anticipated was his clash with Mayweather.

Everyone knows it should have happened six years before it finally did, when they were both at their peaks.

The ocean of bad blood between Mayweather and his old promoter, Bob Arum, who oversaw Pacquiao’s career, ensured it never did, leaving a gap in their records that was only filled earlier this year.

The fight, when it came, was a crushing anti-climax, involving a way below par Pacquiao failing to force his opponent out of second gear.

The fact it smashed the pay-per-view record and that both fighters shared a combined purse of $300 million was little comfort.

Neither was Pacquiao’s announcement afterwards that he had a bad shoulder injury going into the fight, which affected his performance.

It marked an ignoble end to a bad night for a sport whose fans are increasingly viewed as pay-per-view fodder in an age where the emphasis is on the business rather than the fighting side of the game.

Regardless, taken in total Pacquiao’s career possessed more meaning for more people than Mayweather’s ever could.

Unlike a fighter who outdid himself in plumbing the depths of vulgarity in flaunting his wealth, Pacquiao fought for the have nots — the legion of migrants who make up the cleaners, valets, busboys and day labourers in the land of the free, those who exist on the flip side of the Vegas Strip, with its swanky hotels, casinos and restaurants.

Every time he stepped into the ring the Filipino carried their hopes and dreams, providing them with a temporary respite from their worries and woes, allowing them to enjoy the vicarious thrill of a champion who was of them and like them being exalted and respected in a culture in which their existence was barely acknowledged much less respected.

The Filipino champion was a symbol of pride in a world of injustice.

In this regard his greatness was unsurpassed.