The moment was bittersweet, as Donaire had just dropped a controversial decision to future two-division world champion Brian Viloria, and that was two days after Nonito’s brother Glenn lost to Viloria. An all-Donaire final in the box-offs would have been prime media fodder. Instead, writers in attendance were left to question the electronic scoring used since the 1992 Games.

“If this is how they scored fights in my day, I never would have been an Olympic gold medalist,” Donaire said Leonard, apparently disagreeing with the official decision, told him after the fight.

Both Nonito and Glenn still could have gone forward in the loser’s bracket and earned a spot on the U.S. Olympic boxing team with a few victories, but frustration boiled over when they claimed Viloria bragged about knowing how to exploit the scoring system. The Donaire brothers joined their father and unofficial trainer Nonito, Sr. and a handful of other team members in protesting their losses by staging a sit-in prior to Glenn’s consolation fight.

Nonito and Glenn were disqualified.

At the time, Nonito was 17 and giving up what might have been a clearer path to stardom in exchange for what he felt was the moral high ground. Born in the Philippines, Donaire had been in the U.S. for only a handful of years, and the path wasn’t an easy one.

Donaire first appeared in The Ring as one of its “New Faces” in 2006, when he was 13-1 as a pro. His only loss was to Rosendo Sánchez, a former top Bay Area amateur who went nowhere in the paid ranks. He experienced both the boon and the curse of arriving on the scene a few years after Filipino icon Manny Pacquiao. Donaire benefited from boxing’s Filipino invasion, but was sometimes dismissed as one of many Pinoy fighters who were good, but definitely no Pacquiao.

At the time, Donaire said: "My only goal since I was young was to give my parents a house. My parents work so hard for us. It's been such a hardship on them. I want them to have a better life."

Now he’s 43, a four-division world champion, a surefire Hall of Famer and somehow still always a fight or two away from yet another opportunity to fight for a world title.

In his most recent fight, Donaire lost a split decision to 30-year-old Seiya Tsutsumi for the WBA bantamweight title in a fight that truly could have gone either way. Perhaps cognizant that a portion of his earlier career was defined by inactivity, Donaire is quickly returning this weekend to face 28-year-old Riku Masuda, whose only loss is to Tsutsumi.

It used to be that boxing wasn’t a game for old men, and that went double for lower weight divisions. The reasons aren’t clear why smaller fighters historically tend to burn out more quickly than heavier ones. But great flyweights like Jimmy Wilde, Miguel Canto and Fidel LaBarba, for instance, were all done by their early 30s.

Even when accounting for updated training, lighter schedules and greater overall awareness of boxing’s long-term effects, the list of fighters who remained actual threats in their divisions well into their 40s is incredibly short. If Donaire could get his gloves on another world title, he would be the third-oldest world champion ever, after George Foreman and Bernard Hopkins.

Like those old fogeys, Donaire’s ample experience means he’s well-acquainted with the fight game both in the ring and out.

Back in 2006, Donaire said: "We've never counted on anybody but ourselves. All my family, my cousin, dad, brothers, we're comfortable with each other. We're in harmony."

It probably really was true at the time, but money and punches change everyone who comes by them. Donaire has gotten plenty of both by now, and his relationships, like the one with his father, have grown far more complex over the years.

Donaire’s involvement in several petty spats made news, and none were covered as widely as his public feud with his father. Nonito, Sr. trained Jr. for nearly a decade, and five other trainers or teams of trainers then had their chances. Donaire also worked with multiple promoters and managers over the years.

Involvement with various teams and entities is perfectly normal in the sport of boxing, it’s just not a great indicator of consistency. If anything, Donaire, long considered one of the sport’s good guys, could get extra credit for navigating his way through boxing’s various potholes and making it out in one piece.

Cameron Dunkin, Donaire’s manager until he sadly passed away in 2024, used to say of his fighter, “[Nonito] is a Manny Pacquiao type. He’ll knock you dead as a doornail. Frankly speaking, that’s what people want to see.”

History and gate receipts support the idea on paper, though Donaire struggled for appeal and never came close to selling the way Pacquiao did, and apparently still does. Despite a knockout percentage just a few points away from his countryman and two “KO of the Year” awards from The Ring, Donaire is more of a counter-puncher and lacked the same electrifying wins over big names that could turn him into a superstar.

The style that seemingly prevented Donaire from duplicating the extreme success of Pacquiao now places him in a better position to actually put a dent in his division than he would have at Manny’s age and with his more straightforward style. Masuda, who has eight knockouts in nine victories, could easily dent any idea like that.

More importantly, even if Masuda should personally line Donaire up for retirement with a worst case scenario loss, the latter ensured his entry into any hall of fame worth a damn years ago.

After barely getting by Nonito and Glenn Donaire at the box-offs in 2000, Brian Viloria said: “They’re both excellent prospects. Their day is coming.”

Glenn’s day came and went. The sun is yet to set on Nonito or his career even if he already bought his way into history. All great fighters could use a little more history with oblivion at stake.