TV-side in the Tua family home

By SCOTT MacLEOD

FROM TUA'S HOME

It's showtime, and they're ready to rumble at the Tua home in Mangere.

Mum, dad and three sisters may be in Las Vegas for the big fight, but there are at least another 50 chiefs, friends, relatives, media hacks and assorted hangers-on crammed into the Tuas' Robertson Rd home.

They're all here because of one man. David Tua.

By 4 pm the two-storey house is filled with people, and the front yard packed with big four-wheel-drive vehicles. A stream of cars roll past as local folk make their way home for the big fight. Every third car hoots its horn, but the Tuas are used to that. Cars have been tooting all day and all night for some time now.

The man at the front gate is Tua's older brother, Andrew, a friendly bloke and a pretty good welterweight himself. He sounds an early note of caution when the Herald predicts a round-10 knockout for the Tuaman. "It's not going to be an easy fight for David," he says. "Lennox didn't get there for no reason."

Inside, the centre of attention is a very large television set perched in the corner of the lounge - one of the fruits of Tua's success. Ulafala necklace-clad chiefs and elders score the best spots, right in front of the telly.

They sit among omens that bode well for this fight. Most notable are the five table-mats showing Godzilla in mid-rampage through New York; will Tua be similarly rampant? Then there's the life-sized cutouts of Tua advertisements stuck to the wall, so imposing that one feels compelled to rush out and buy a certain brand of corned beef.

This bloke Lewis is surely in trouble. And there is much mirth when he refuses to emerge from his gimmicky castle-thing at the start of the fight. "He's hiding in his cage," says one. "He's safe in there," says another.

When the fight starts, after the happy babble of talking and giggling and praying, it seems the Tuaman may just do it. He nearly holds his own in round one, despite Lewis' persistent jab.

Andrew Tua's verdict? His brother should fake first then hit Lewis in the left elbow, to make him pull back from the jab.

There's a fair bit of optimism at the end of round two, when a couple of strong Tua punches have Lewis on the ropes. One woman is especially excited. "I bet on a round three knockout," she says. "C'mon, Tua, make me a rich woman."

Then, catastrophe. The TV blanks out.

TV3 is roundly cursed for the next couple of minutes until somebody finds the problem behind the TV and sorts it out.

But when the picture returns, it shows a Lennox Lewis who is looking, as Tua himself might say, pretty "O for Awesome."

Andrew offers his last advice in round six - "use your right, Dave" - and then there is nothing more to say. Everyone claps at the end of each round, but it is hollow.

The Tuaman has lost.

But he has also survived 12 rounds with the world's best prizefighter.

The Tua family are gracious and dignified in defeat.

They clap Lewis when he is declared the winner. They sing hymns and pray to restore their spirits. But, outside, the cars have stopped tooting.

Herald Online feature: the Tua fight