GENERAL SANTOS CITY, Philippines — Manny Pacquiao is losing. And he's having a good time.

The intensive training regime for his next fight, on May 2 against Ricky Hatton in Las Vegas, is a couple of weeks away. Now the man considered by many the world's best pound-for-pound boxer can relax and take a break from the relentless demands on him: as family man, actor, pitchman and fledgling politician, not to mention the requests for his autograph, his money, his mere presence.

The scene is a concrete basketball court, swept of pebbles, in hardscrabble Labangal. That's a neighborhood of mostly dirt roads where the 30-year-old Pacquiao grew up poor in General Santos City, in the southern Philippines.

He and a group of friends are taking on all comers in five-on-five, first to 15 baskets. Word spreads fast, drawing teams from other areas, some players shod only in flip-flops. Friendly side bets are made.

A hundred or so people, accustomed to seeing Pacquiao come and play during breaks in his training — he paid for the basket supports and rims — watch as late afternoon turns to dusk and the lights come on.

The only real signs that this is anything other than a regular Saturday night game are three camera crews and three armed security guards — two toting submachine guns — flanking the court.

The Philippines is known as Asia's kidnap capital and home to long-running Muslim and communist insurgencies, not to mention criminal gangs, and it's no secret that Pacquiao earned at least $11 million for pounding Oscar de La Hoya into submission in December.

For 3 1/2 hours, Pacquiao plays with only brief breaks to towel off, grab sips of water or take a call on his cell phone. He's not going full speed, but he draws cheers when he hits a shot from the top of the key or makes his signature move, slamming the ball off the backboard then grabbing it and making a layup.

Rain ends play at 8 p.m., and Pacquiao heads to his former house, where his brother Bobby lives now, to change from his sweaty No. 17 jersey. His respite over, he has to head home to his sprawling mansion. Guests are waiting.

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It's hard to imagine Pacquiao finding time to even sleep these days.

He flew to Britain on Feb. 27 to promote his fight for hard-punching Hatton's IBO junior welterweight belt, which Pacquiao swears will be one of his last. Hatton (45-1, 32 knockouts) is one of Britain's most popular athletes but lost his only previous fight against a boxer of Pacquiao's stature when Floyd Mayweather Jr. stopped him in December 2007.

Can Pacquiao really quit when the paychecks are so big? The De La Hoya fight generated about 1.25 million pay-per-view buys, according to numbers released by HBO, only the fourth time such a fight got at least 1 million buys.

Pacquiao, who has won his last nine fights to run his record to 48-3-2 with 36 knockouts, seems to be at the peak of his skills and international fame. He has become a national icon — the Philippine Senate recently passed a unanimous resolution honoring him as the "greatest Filipino boxer of our time" — and role model for thousands of young Manny wannabes.

But Pacquiao insists he won't spend long in the sport.

"I will retire this year," he said. "Maybe after Hatton, one more fight, and then that's it. Win or lose."

He would leave quite a legacy, already winning titles in five weight classes. A year ago, he was fighting at 129 pounds, then moved all the way up to 147 for De La Hoya.

It also may help that Pacquiao has so many outside interests, including raising roosters for cockfighting, a popular event in the Philippines, along with playing darts, billiards and chess.

His endorsement contracts include Nike, and his parents and advisers say he has managed his money well.

"What people don't understand about Manny is even though he is not a Harvard-educated person, he is a very intelligent person," said Michael Koncz, who has helped Pacquiao manage a boxing promotion company in Nevada.

"He absorbs his surroundings. He knows what's going on around him, what people's intents are, whose got ulterior motives and who doesn't, because we've had discussions on that. His comment is, 'You think I'm stupid? I know.' And he does.

"Most times he is a very shrewd businessman. Then at times, too, his kindness comes out. If you push the right buttons, you are able to invade his kindness and get to his heart, and sometimes he makes a lesser deal than he could have got."

Pacquiao's popularity is so overwhelming — traffic is much lighter and crime declines when his fights are on TV, regularly drawing ratings of about 50 percent of viewers — that he talks about a run for office in the poverty-wracked country of 90 million people even though his first campaign for Congress fell short.

"Especially my province, there are a lot of poor people," Pacquiao said. "I want to help them because I know what they feel right now. It is not easy to help other people. That is a big responsibility. I will focus on that for the meantime."

He already helps out friends like Sonny Panding, a former sparring partner who shared a house with Pacquiao and other boxers in the early 1990s. Panding, who now drives a motorcycle taxi for a living, said Pacquiao regularly gives him about $200 whenever they see each other.

He recalls the determination that set the champion apart.

"Manny was very excited with training and he trained very hard," Panding said. "While I and the others were just getting ready to dress, he was already up and running. When we got halfway in the road run, he was already at the end, and when we got to the end, he was already back."

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While Pacquiao's parents praise his help for others, they worry about him getting involved in politics.

"It's really dirty," said Pacquiao's mother, Dionisia, who recalled how, with her husband unemployed, her son used to do odd jobs for $3 a day to help out. She is deeply religious, a trait she has passed on to her son.

"I think I have been blessed by God," Pacquiao said. "I think because I believe in God, I work hard in my profession, so that's why my dreams come true."

Still he doesn't want his two young sons to follow in his professional footsteps.

"The life of a boxer is very hard," Pacquiao said. "What I want for them is to finish school, be God-fearing and love their fellow men."

He has stayed close to the old neighborhood, setting up his primary home just three miles away. He also has a house near Manila, with his sons going to an international school there.

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Back home in General Santos, Feb. 22 is baptism day for Queen Elizabeth — also known as Queenie — the youngest of four children for Pacquiao and wife Jinkee.

The day starts at the family's opulent home, where the furniture includes a pair of crystal chandeliers, a dining room table that seats 10 and a black baby grand piano. Pacquiao is taking lessons to play, and his early favorites include the John Lennon peace anthem "Imagine."

At the foot of a winding staircase to the second floor is a large black-and-white portrait of Pacquiao in a fighting pose with the words "To die for you," the last line of the Philippine national anthem. In the back is a small swimming pool shaped like a boxing glove. A nearby garage holds six cars, three covered by tarpaulins.

On Queenie's baptismal day, the family poses for photos in the living room of the sprawling house, hidden from the street by a 10-foot concrete fence.

Then it's off to the church, packed with hundreds of fans, some standing on pews to catch a glimpse of Pacquiao, celebrity godfathers and godmothers — including Vice President Noli de Castro — and three senators and a sprinkling of movie stars. Some fly in on private jets.

The reception is at a mall convention hall, decorated Disneyland style, with news teams lining up to interview Pacquiao, his wife and the other personalities at the head table.

Pacquiao knows many of them from his dabbling in acting. His latest role isn't much of a stretch — he has been filming in Manila for a new Philippine television miniseries on a fictional street boxer. Pacquiao plays himself.

One sequence certainly had him feeling at home. The set was a worn but well cared-for boxing gym, and Pacquiao, sporting a wispy mustache and goatee, along with a large diamond stud earring, took a few whacks at the speed bag in between scenes.

It was easy to tell Pacquiao from his identically dressed stand-in. He's not tall, but he's clearly an athlete, his large hands out of place on his otherwise slim body and his shoulders showing the coiled strength that has left so many opponents on the canvas.

He joked with action film star Robin Padilla as they choreographed a fight sequence, with each setup for a scene lasting longer than most of Pacquiao's fights.

"I am having fun," he said. "I love acting. I like to do movies like this."

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This week, it was time to fly to Los Angeles and start preparations for the real thing with Hatton. Trainer Freddy Roach convinced Pacquiao a couple of years ago that he needs to train away from the distractions at home, and the results have been hard to argue with — Pacquiao has looked stronger, quicker and more focused in each of his last few fights.

"When I am in training, there is nothing that can disturb me," Pacquiao said. "Once I start, there will be no distractions."