Behind that snarling face whenever you see him on top of the ring is a picture of a child.

Manny Pacquiao, boxing’s only eight-division champion, was like that after spending several hours with him late Tuesday until early Wednesday morning at his Forbes Park residence.

Having spent many hours with him many times in the past, this recent one was different.

It left me with a very bad case of colds and coughs.

But it didn’t catch the malady while I was there.

I may have already felt weakened after days and even weeks of sleepless nights attending to my old man at the hospital. (Note: He’s been released from the National Kidney Institute after almost four weeks and is celebrating his 83rd birthday today, 27 February).

It was bad timing, I guess.

So, there I was with Pacquiao, who was playing chess when I got there around midnight.

You could tell he was enjoying every second of it because the good on a tray — fish soup, fried fish and steamed rice — had to be reheated a couple of times because it had gone cold.

Pacquiao’s face was like that of a kid who was playing with somebody his age.

His eyes lit up every time he thought he had made a great move and he kept on rubbing his palms as a sign of excitement.

He was also a bit restless even if he had the comfiest seat inside the room because he simply wanted to put the opposing player on the defensive, sensing that mating him was just a matter of time.

Manny kept on teasing and taunting his rival as though they were kids running around the park.

I could no longer remember how many matches they played and had it not been for a morning flight for General Santos City he and wife Jinkee had to catch, Pacquiao would have played all day long.

During a break, I attempted to have him sign a sports card but he requested me to just hang around.

“Once I sign them, you would leave so stay around for a short while,” he told me as we talked about a lot of things in between matches.

When Pacquiao says to you “for a short while,” you’re doomed. That could mean a long wait.

But you stay because he feels bad and gets hurt whenever his invited guests just disappear.

Since I had a mission that day, I stayed until it was time for him to get dressed for the flight back home.

Luckily, Jinkee walked by and we had quite a long chat as he narrated how she wishes that their son Jimuel, who is living in Los Angeles, stops fighting.

“I can’t stand seeing him fight,” she said.

Jinkee was at ringside when Jimuel made his professional debut last year and she could not stand seeing her son bang bodies, opting to embrace Manny as if it would help Jimuel, her eyes often closed.

We chatted about her granddaughter and how she misses her so much and a few more things about Floyd Mayweather and some stuff stretching back to the early days at the L&M Gym, the old gym in Sampaloc-Quiapo area, where Manny used to train.

Then, all of a sudden, a rushing Manny, clad in a jacket, black slacks and sneakers, appeared.

Instead of shoving the sports card for him to sign, I instead asked him a few questions about the Mayweather fight since it was my primary purpose in making a 45-minute drive late at night from one of the many coastal towns along Manila Bay.

I know those cards would eventually be signed at Forbes or some other else.

But next time it happens, I will make sure he gets them signed right away.

I will make him an offer he can’t refuse.

Wish me luck, will you?