Boxing: Viva Las Vegas, and viva our fighter

Dunedin journalist KERRY WILLIAMSON savours the setting, if not the result.

LAS VEGAS - We knew he had lost it about halfway through the fight.

A cheer went up for Lennox Lewis, and we just couldn't match it.

Lewis threw a jab and David Tua stumbled.

"Lewis, Lewis!" It boomed around the arena, for the first time louder than the cheers for Tua.

The Kiwis and Samoans tried to muster a chant of their own, but, like their hero, they could not find the strength.

We sat down then, in our tiny plastic seats, and stayed seated.

We knew Tua's date with destiny was not going to happen tonight.

We almost pleaded for a late rally, for one last left hand to connect. For Lewis to falter, stumble and fall.

We willed our own fists to join Tua's, but our champion was not to become the King of the World. Not tonight. We remained proud, though.

We - New Zealanders and Samoans - had come together as Tua men and women several days before.

The buzz began early in the day as fight fans began arriving at the Mandalay Bay hotel and casino, and continued through the afternoon and evening.

Tua fans revelled in the atmosphere, unlike anything seen in New Zealand.

We posed for photos with greats such as George Foreman, we laughed as we mingled with luminaries such as George Clooney, Billy Crystal, Magic Johnson and Harrison Ford. It was long-distance mingling - the stars were ring-side and we struggled to spot them.

We dined on five-buck nachos and beers in plastic cups, and bought $20 programmes to help us remember our night.

And we smiled at the colourful crowd: the gangster types in their dark suits and bowler hats, the trophy wives in their tight dresses, and the former boxers with their squashed and bent noses.

The chanting began hours before Tua or Lewis took to the ring, the English with their football songs, the Kiwis and Samoans with their simple "Tua, Tua."

There were Poms draped in the Union Jack, Samoans in lava-lavas, there were painted faces in both camps and New Zealand flags fluttering in the aisles.

We erupted when Tua entered the ring to the sound of a conch and the beating of drums. It was spine-tingling and brought on goose-bumps.

Politely, we clapped when Lewis strutted to the ring.

Fireworks exploded, and we hoped Tua would let off fireworks of his own when the fight began.

The pair stalked each other in the first two rounds, and we sat on the edge of our seats.

Tua's mighty left hand exploded twice early on, and we leapt to our feet.

Between rounds we stared and whistled at the bikini-clad models as they carried the round cards. At least, we did until the fifth round when our hopes began to fade.

When the bell sounded at the end of the 12th round we knew Tua's date with destiny had stood him up. Most stayed to hear the decision and grimaced when we heard the words "And still ... "

We wandered away, disappointed but still proud.

At the press conference half an hour later, Tua faced hundreds of journalists at a time when we knew he wanted to find a quiet room.

He thanked God, thanked Lewis, and led the applause for the victor.

He said he would be back, and said his destiny would prevail.

But he came close. He was just one punch away from the top of the world.

He may have lost, but he is still special. Not the champion of the world, but still a champion.

- NZPA

Herald Online feature: the Tua fight