Chris Mannix and Sergio Mora recently expressed striking confidence in Shakur Stevenson’s ability to stop Manny Pacquiao in a potential matchup. Mora, speaking on Boxing with Mannix and Mora, openly disliked the hypothetical fight, describing Stevenson as a “pound-for-pound cheetah with boxing gloves” while questioning why a fighter of Pacquiao’s caliber would agree to face him at nearly 50 years old. Mannix envisioned Stevenson catching the aging legend repeatedly during attacks, with Mora going as far as comparing the potential punishment to Larry Holmes’ dominant victory over an aging Muhammad Ali.
While Pacquiao’s age is a legitimate factor, the notion of a stoppage is difficult to accept. Stevenson’s primary issue is his lack of power, compounded by his defensive style. His first priority is avoiding punches; he lands, moves, and forces opponents to reset rather than staying in range to build a sustained offensive. This approach can win rounds convincingly, but it also grants a hurt fighter the time and space to recover.
To actually stop Pacquiao, Stevenson would likely need to hold his position after landing attacks and continue throwing while Pacquiao is close enough to counter. This represents a significant gamble against a seasoned southpaw who can still launch rapid combinations from awkward angles. Although Stevenson is highly skilled and could potentially outbox Pacquiao over twelve rounds, Mannix and Mora are asking him to take risks that he has spent his entire career actively avoiding.
Mora’s comparison to Holmes and Ali borders on melodrama. Holmes was a heavyweight who overwhelmed Ali with sustained, heavy offense. In contrast, Stevenson typically opts for the safer shot and quickly retreats. While he might outbox Pacquiao on the scorecards, predicting that he will pin him to the ropes for a prolonged beating requires Stevenson to fight completely contrary to the style we have watched throughout his career.
Moving up to welterweight introduces further questions. Stevenson has never demonstrated significant stopping power against top-tier lightweights. Carrying extra weight against Pacquiao would not suddenly transform him into a heavier puncher overnight. Pacquiao’s age may have slowed his reflexes, but Stevenson would still have to present openings by standing close enough to attempt a stoppage.
Mannix also noted that the fight itself might never materialize, pointing out that Pacquiao has been linked to numerous rumored matchups that ultimately went nowhere. While a bout against a legendary name like Pacquiao would generate attention, a victory over a nearly 50-year-old would tell us far less about Stevenson’s true standing than a fight against a top contender from his own generation.
The idea that Stevenson could suddenly transform into an offensive power puncher capable of stopping anyone, let alone Manny Pacquiao, is unrealistic given his professional and amateur records.
To achieve a stoppage without genuine one-punch power, a fighter must sit down on their punches, hold their ground in the pocket, and commit to sustained combinations. Stevenson’s entire defensive system is wired to do the exact opposite. The moment he feels genuine heat, his instinct is to reset, step back, and find an exit route. This survival reflex makes him difficult to beat convincingly, but it completely eliminates any possibility of him breaking down a durable opponent.
Cuba’s Robeisy Ramirez exposed the foundational flaw in Stevenson’s game in the Olympic finals in Rio de Janeiro. When Ramirez stepped to him, closed the distance, and made him uncomfortable with genuine spite and power, Stevenson retreated into his shell. He did not bite down on his mouthpiece and trade; he looked for survival space, let the rounds slip away, and cried in the locker room after the decision went against him.
The exact same allergic reaction to contact surfaced in the professional ranks against Edwin De Los Santos. The moment Stevenson felt De Los Santos had legitimate power in his hands, he shut down his offense entirely, throwing single-digit punches per round and spending thirty-six minutes in full retreat. If a limited puncher like De Los Santos can turn Stevenson into a track star, imagine what happens when he feels the straight left hand of a seasoned welterweight legend who comes forward throwing in flurries.
If Stevenson attempts to stand in the pocket to prove critics wrong, he walks into serious trouble. Pacquiao, even past his absolute prime, thrives against opponents who give him stationary targets in the mid-range. To stop Pacquiao, Stevenson would have to absorb sharp, explosive counters from strange angles. Nothing in Stevenson’s professional career suggests his chin or his mindset can tolerate that kind of trade-off.
He would take two clean punches to land three keep-away shots, realize the return fire is too dangerous, and immediately climb back on his bicycle. Mannix is dreaming if he believes Stevenson possesses the firepower or the stomach to force a referee to intervene. There is nothing wrong with his defensive style, but it simply is not enough to secure a stoppage against Pacquiao.
