Seven years ago Danny Williams battered a fading Mike Tyson to a fourth-round defeat in Louisville and was afforded a brief glimpse of the fighting fame he had craved since he first laced on the gloves as an eight-year-old.
Williams' win over Tyson catapulted him onto US TV talk-shows and ultimately into a shot at the WBC heavyweight title at the posh end of the Las Vegas Strip - resulting in a painful beating by the heavy hands of Vitali Klitschko.
That fleeting fame has long passed, and with it any hope Williams may have retained of muscling back in on some kind of title picture. But at the age of 37, the 'Brixton Bomber' insists he still is not done just yet.
Despite a series of retirement announcements, Williams, who lost his British heavyweight crown by second-round defeat to Dereck Chisora last May, will fight again next week against ageing Hungarian Laszlo Toth in Hamburg.
After his conclusive loss to Chisora, Williams claimed his name would never again be announced back into a boxing ring. And in that sense the always unpredictable Williams has kept his word: he's just changed his name.
When Williams fought German Frank Roth in Bielefeld in March, he did so not as Danny Williams, but as DPW. He fought on a Latvian boxing licence, having been persuaded by the British Board of Control not to re-apply in this country.
Williams didn't even tell his closest friends he was fighting Roth, and says he fought for free. Yet having secured his stated aim of not retiring on a loss - he beat the hopeless Roth by second-round stoppage - he realised it wasn't enough.
"I've been fighting since the age of eight and I love the sport too much to walk away," says Williams, who, incidentally, has never even been to Latvia.
Williams is also brutally honest about his fading talent.
"I'm a realist, not a fool," he said. "I know what skills I've got left and what level I can still box at. Because I'm now effectively a Latvian boxer, I've given up my right to fight for the British title. I'm just going to see where things take me."
There is no attempt to gloss over recent performances.
"I was a shot fighter when I fought Chisora," he admits. "The only reason he didn't knock me out in the first round was because he showed me too much respect.
"Guys like Chisora looked up to me when I was at my best because they knew I was a talented fighter. But my boxing had deteriorated so badly that they were able to beat me. They just had to realise it for themselves."
Williams' loss to Chisora was his third in four fights, having previously been stopped by Albert Sosnowski and outpointed by Carl Baker in the Prizefighter tournament. But if that sounds like another retirement announcement, think again.
"I've been training at my old amateur club, the Lynn in Peckham," he said. "They've given me a key and I go in there at night when the amateurs have gone home. People might be surprised how I look in my next fight."
There is certainly one thing to be said for Williams' decision to fight on. Having invested his money from the Klitschko fight wisely in property, he is not fighting for financial reasons. Nor is he under any delusions of last great hurrahs.
These, Williams insists, are the crucial points that separate him from the pile of fellow pros who fight on too long.
"I love it too much to finish," says Williams. "All I want to do is box. I have no desire to become a trainer or a promoter.
"All through my career I was hampered because I put far too much pressure on myself. Now that pressure has lifted and I know where I am in the sport. I'm enjoying it so much more.
"I just don't want to finish boxing yet. I love everything about it.
"I'm proud of what I achieved in my career, even if it's mixed with disappointment at never quite realising my dream of becoming world heavyweight champion. At least I'm able to say I came close."
It is the extraordinary, stormy night in Louisville that will linger longest in the memory. Williams withstood Tyson's huge bombs to score a famous triumph. But the new, brutally honest Williams is keen to put even his crowning glory in perspective.
"It was a massive achievement but I know deep down if he'd been at his best I wouldn't have lasted 10 or 20 seconds with him," he insists. "He was nothing like the guy who could have beaten everybody out there."
Maybe so. But Williams did enough that night, and many others, to ensure his permanent place in the affections of all true British boxing fans - whatever his name, whichever his country, and wherever his extraordinary career finally ends.
