Samoa’s David Tua has put poverty behind him to become a true contender
John Rawling in Las Vegas
Those passionless arbiters of sporting probability, the Las Vegas odds makers, may claim that the chances of Lennox Lewis losing his world heavyweight title on Saturday night are slim, but two nations beg to differ. New Zealand and Samoa will come to a standstill, convinced their improbably proportioned pugilistic hero David Tua is about to fulfil his destiny.
Standing only about 1,78m, Tua nevertheless leaves the scales groaning under a bulk which balloons to more than 127kg between fights but is honed to a more svelte 115kg or so when the time comes to step into the ring.
Not since Two Ton Tony Galento threatened to “moider da bum” when he fought Joe Louis 60 years ago has a man challenged for the title whose other hobbies would so conspicuously appear to play second fiddle to the desire to eat.
When he waddled into the American boxing writers’ annual dinner in New York this year, any suggestion that he was capable of taking sport’s richest prize seemed utterly preposterous. But he has whipped his prop-forward’s physique into a more acceptable shape and there is no shortage of decent judges who believe his crouching, slugging style can give Lewis an anxious night.
Tuamania might sound like a fanciful state of affairs dreamt up by promoters seeking to give a contest acceptability while the stench of the Tyson-Golota debacle still hangs around boxing, but New Zealanders are clearly ready to reduce Jonah Lomu and his mates to the rank of sporting also-rans if Tua is as good as his words, while Samoans are poised to party as never before.
“I expect to knock Lennox Lewis out,” Tua said before working out for the cameras in the state-of-the-art 12 000-seat arena in the glitzy Mandalay Bay hotel, which stages the fight. “I’m not being arrogant but I just don’t see it going any other way. The judges are not likely to give a points decision in my favour so I know what I have to do.
“The Lewis people think they are going to set me up and hit me with a right hand or big uppercut. They are in for a helluva surprise. I won’t be leaping at him, telegraphing my intentions. I’ll be working in, closing the range for the left hook or the right hand.
“Once Lewis gets somebody going backwards he looks good. But I won’t be going backwards. There is talk of my weight but the important thing is that I have kept my assets, my speed and my power, my mobility and my flexibility. Against me, in that split second you are not watching, it is all over.”
Thirty-two of his 38 professional opponents would perhaps agree, as they have been bludgeoned to painful defeat inside the distance, and Tua also has the valuable asset of a granite chin and a thick skin which seems resilient to any fighting damage.
His credentials are good. Though he has been fed his fair share of the no-hopers and dead bodies used to pump up every contender’s record, he has also mixed it in decent company. David Izon, Oleg Maskaev and Hasim Rahman may not be household names but all were highly rated before being stopped by Tua. And John Ruiz, who earlier this year pushed Evander Holyfield to a close points decision, was dispatched by Tua in a matter of 19 seconds.
Only Ike Ibeabuchi, who is awaiting trial after allegedly beating up a hooker in his hotel suite, has defeated Tua, controversially on points. A more telling statistic from the fight is that more punches were thrown, albeit less dramatically, in 12 rounds than the 14 rounds that brought Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier to a standstill in their epic Thrilla in Manila. Tua may be fat but he has stamina.
His background makes a classic boxing story. One of seven brothers and sisters, Mafaufau Tavita Lio Mafaufau Sanerivi Talimatasi, to give the full name which Tua mercifully does not expect journalists and commentators to use, was born on the western Samoan island of Faleatiu before moving with his parents to Mangere, a run-down area of south Auckland, when he was 11.
The New Zealand tourist board may prefer to refer to Auckland as the City of Sails, with its beautiful harbour and thousands of yachts, but Mangere’s Maori and Samoan gang culture was the reality of Tua’s teenage years and, but for a father who steered his freakishly strong son towards boxing, a life of crime would have been an easy option.
Only a brief conversation with Tua is needed to underline the fact this is no street thug. His religious beliefs are obvious, not in the clichd words beloved of so many American sporting figures but through a quiet intelligence where faith and decency rank highly.
Here is a man who acknowledges with due seriousness his stature as a role model; somebody who can speak out against the poverty and racism that still confront so many of his fellow countrymen, and one who admits to being “humbled” by a recent visit back to south Auckland.
“It was very important to touch base with the fans and the public, to go back home and receive all the beautiful love and blessings from the whole country. All of a sudden I’m getting mobbed everywhere. I say to myself, ‘What’s going on here, what have I done?’ It gives me an appreciation that finally I’ve received the respect I’ve deserved. That means more than anything else I’m trying to accomplish,” he said.
On Saturday night, he may find the odds makers who now quote Lewis at 4-1 on and name Tua as a 3-1 outsider have got it right and Lewis has the skill and size to prevail. But, if he realises his dream, the overriding feeling is that the title will be in the hands of a good man.