4:56pm Sunday 11th May 2008
By Simon Parker
This was never meant to happen. One venomous right hand and Junior Witter's dreams were blown to smithereens.
The verdict in favour of Tim "Desert Storm" Bradley may have been wafer thin. It makes no difference.
Witter had never hit the canvas in 11 years as a professional; he had not tasted defeat since taking that short-notice shot at Zab Judah at Hampden Park in 2000.
For years that sole blip on his record had been the stick which the notoriously tough American boxing controllers had used to beat him with.
It may have been grossly unfair but Witter just got on with the job; coming back up the hard way by cornering the Commonwealth, British and European titles.
He had earned his props with the US paymasters. Saturday night was the opportunity he had craved to jump into the big league.
Witter had the armchair audience on mainstream TV here and delayed in-depth coverage in both America and Canada.
Opponent Bradley may have been a comparative unknown for a mandatory contender but Nottingham Arena on Saturday was all about playing and winning over the occasion.
So this was never going to be just another fight.
The eyes of the nation were watching. Forget the constant ticket-selling boasts of his Roses rival, more tuned in to view Witter than would have ever seen Ricky Hatton, the darling of satellite TV.
Legendary ring announcer Jimmy Lennon Junior was flown over from the States to do the announcing; the action was preceded by the national anthems - the American one was jeered, as it had been with Hatton in Las Vegas.
Opera singer Natasha Marsh belted out God Save The Queen - if only Witter could have hit the same high notes.
Imitation is said to be the best form of flattery; clearly Bradley is a fan.
Witter joked in the week that the American was the dead spit of old Bradford buddy Bobby Vanzie. But style wise, there were times when it must have been like looking in the mirror.
Bradley mimicked the champion by switching hands and was prepared to play all the games that Witter loves to employ.
"Smart aggression" is how the challenger describes his own philosophy and while he was constantly looking to get inside and work on Witter's body, there was never any reckless rushing in - though Bradley sailed close to the wind by going in head-first too often, which earned him a stiff warning from referee Massimo Barrovecchio.
The Italian had been in the ring when Witter outfoxed DeMarcus Corley to win the illustrious green belt. One of the judges, Belgian Daniel Van de Wiele, was in charge for his devastating defeat of Vivian Harris last time out.
So much for lucky omens.
For the first few rounds, Witter's sharper shots took the eye. There was nothing much between the fighters but he carried more quality.
And then it got to round six. Bradley found the money shot.
It was the first time in his career that Witter had been down; and in that split-second, the first inkling that age could be catching up with him.
The younger, hungrier Bradley - ten years his junior - said he had studied the tapes and knew what it would take to beat his man. Here was the proof.
Bradley picked his moment carefully - he claimed that Witter always faded in the middle rounds - and his shot perfectly. It was a punch honed in the Californian gym after detecting a supposed chink in Witter's armour that he tended to pull back at times with his chin in the air.
It was a devastating shot; an overhand right that Witter never tracked until it detonated just above his left ear. The champion was lifted off his feet and thrown into the ropes; for a second it looked as if he might even fall through them.
The place erupted as the count went on; his senses scrambled, Witter clung on for the welcome sound of the bell to rescue him.
This was never meant to happen.
Witter was no longer bomb proof. The pumped-up fists in the air from Bradley's corner showed that any air of invincibility had disappeared in the stifling air. To Witter's credit, he came straight back over the next three minutes and responded to the rising chants from the crowd.
In his moment of crisis, he was enjoying a level of support that had never been heard before.
But Bradley had the bit between his teeth. Forget his comparatively novice pro record, here was a top-notch, well-schooled amateur going through his paces.
He is not a great fighter by any stretch; but a good solid one who knew he would never get a better chance to strike gold. The guy who admitted to trembling when he first saw the illustrious green WBC belt was not shaking any more.
The closing rounds were mainly Bradley's, though as with Witter earlier on, they were not won with any degree of dominance.
Witter's camp agreed their man may have been off-colour but had Bradley done enough to win the title off the champion away from home?
Two of the three judges at ringside clearly thought so; Mexican Omar Minton's 114-113 ruling in the American's favour swinging it, with the other two split. That one punch at the halfway point had proved the difference.
The reaction afterwards said it all. Bradley, the new champion, was hoisted high on the shoulders of his cornerman. The vanquished Witter cut a lone figure as he trudged around the ring head down.
Big-money opportunities have been banished to the backburner. Not forever, Witter insists, but if he hopes to regain past glories there is no time to waste.
Next up should be a step back to European level to regain the belt he gave up when he won the world crown in September 2006. That title is currently held by Colin Lynes, who Witter beat unconvincingly in a dour clash three years ago.
Witter admitted he lacked motivation that night taking on lesser opposition. He cannot afford a repeat should the pair meet again.
Forget Ricky Hatton or unification fights with Ricardo Torres or Andreas Kotelnik. Witter has a reputation to rebuild.
Only a handful of boxing champions have retired undefeated. As the belt holder, you are up there to be shot at.
But nobody seriously expected him to fall victim to Desert Storm, a 6-1 underdog.
Bradley accused Witter of not taking him seriously enough; the Bradford fighter had proved his own downfall with a flat and disjointed display.
He had looked ragged and missed too many shots. It was not a patch on the slick operator we have been treated to down the years.
This was never meant to happen.
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