The fight the world wants to see is disappearing into the shadowy and menacing recesses of Floyd Mayweather's brutally deprived childhood.
Behind the flashy facade and the wads of $100 bills thrown like confetti to grovelling night-clubbers here in party city, the boxer so rich that he calls himself Money is haunted by nightmares of an upbringing so impoverished that he lived his days in hunger and his nights in darkness.
That boy has grown into a man so paranoid about safeguarding his health that he sees no reason to risk confronting Manny Pacquiao to resolve once and for all which of them is the greatest pound-for-pound fighter on Earth.
The explanation is his familiar accusation that Pacquiao could not have grown into a world champion in an unprecedented eight weight divisions without chemical assistance.
The reality is that he fears being sucked back into the ghetto from which he so narrowly escaped.
Mayweather bared his soul after putting the finishing touches to his preparations for Saturday night's fight with Miguel Cotto, a ferociously tough proposition for any normal champion but not one to disturb the sleep of one of the most masterful technicians in the annals of the ring.
It is his memories which do that.
Mayweather's extraordinary confessional veered between painful recollections and a rant against Pacquiao dripping with foul-mouthed venom.
Floyd Jnr, as he was known until he decided to shrug off the yoke of the father who beat him, was born in Grand Rapids, Michigan and remembers: 'There was no stable home. I was moved between our place and other family members, between Michigan and New Jersey.
'Basically I raised myself. One lady relative had nine kids but still she made me her tenth child. When I was at home, my elder sister would try her best to get us up for school and my father would sometimes drop off a few dollars.
'From a young kid, I never had no curfew. I never got in before midnight, often 3am even though the sound of gunshots on the streets was something we heard all the time. I plain didn't want to go home.
'Worst of all it was dark there when I got in. There was no electricity. Too dark. I used to lay in bed with my flashlight and look up at the pictures of famous boxers I had stuck to the ceiling. I couldn't wait to go to the gym. That was the best thing in my life.
'If my father was at home he would beat me. Mostly I hadn't done anything wrong but he beat me just the same. Then when I was 16 my father left my life, to go to prison.'
Uncannily, that fate now awaits Floyd the younger. His three-month term for assaulting the mother of his own children was delayed so he could go through with his appointment with Cotto, the Puerto Rican folk hero. But report to the county jail here he must, on June 1.
It will be harder for him to leave his kids than it was to depart what masqueraded as his first family home: 'Some of the boys who got the call to the bigger training camps got homesick. Not me. I was given food and looked after. I could see they thought they had found something in me. They put me in hotels.'
Once, though, it was in a dingy motel and its lack of light became a recurring and disturbing theme in his life: 'The room was dirty but worst of all it was dark. So dark. I was back to laying in bed in the dark,'
Not for long - but long enough for him to say to himself: 'Something good is going to happen to me and when it does I will make sure my family never have to go where I have been.'
Now it angers him that so many of his countrymen are disaffected by his public arrogance, his sharp tongue, his bling, his insistence on calling himself the greatest: 'I give back to America (his generosity runs from major charities to paying for the funerals of great old fighters who die poor like Smokin' ) yet I get more love in the UK than in my homeland.'
Suddenly the mood begins to turn. He has talked of admiring the epic rivalry between Sugar Ray Leonard, Thomas Hearns, Marvin Hagler and Roberto Duran but ask him why boxing is still awaiting his defining fight against Pacquiao and the 35-year-old snaps: 'Do you do what you want or what other people want you to do? Why should I do something which could damage my health in order to please the media? If I end up unable to see my watch you mother-f****** will just move on to someone else.'
But can Mr Money turn his back on a cool $100million from the richest fight of all time? 'I've made a pile of money already but I tell you I’d rather give it all back than wind up trying to find my cane.'
But if he's so sure he can whip the PacMan, why is the risk so great? He is facing a libel action from Paquiao for insinuating that he uses drugs but he says: 'S*** man can't you see. Come on. He was nowhere back in the day but he's grown through eight divisions. Come on. Even his head got bigger. Ray Charles could see it.'
But hasn't Pacquiao agreed to his demand for Olympic standard blood testing?
'Bulls***. Bob Arum (PacMan's promoter) says it but Arum is a f***** liar. Go ahead, call me a coward. But if so I'm a rich coward. And you all know I ain't scared.'
By JEFF POWELL
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