Saturday night is presented as the last dance for Big Derek Chisora, the Union Jack clad veteran who is slowly adopting a type of grand old Uncle persona as he meanders toward a belated retirement. His bout with Deontay Wilder is the 50th of both careers. It is hoped, perhaps the final one for both.
The right thing to say? Well, that would be obvious, wouldn't it? These two old heavyweights shouldn't still be fighting. The evidence for that is plain. And yet, there remains a magnetism about heavyweights of any age throwing leather. Like slowing down to look at a car crash.
Derek Chisora, 36-13-1 (23ko), is an erratic juggernaut; prone to blowing a tyre at inconvenient moments but capable of carrying surprisingly formidable loads despite 'red-lining' on all the dials. His prospects of sustaining form as years pass, he's now 42, activity lowers and the inevitable dwindling of his relevance, becomes ever more unlikely. Adding heft, he weighed in at 267lbs today - a career high, I don't believe is strategic. Perhaps it is. Perhaps, like most men of a certain age, its just the dissolve of motivation and testosterone as middle-age wraps its arms around us.
Deontay Wilder, 44-4-1 (43ko), meanwhile, continues to blow in and out of boxing suburbia; different glasses, new stories of renewal, each less convincing than the last. As exciting as Wilder once was and as timeless as power is presumed to be, the streams of clumsy consciousness he pours forth at press conferences long since grew tiresome. Aged 40, Wilder's reliance on one-shot power is greater than ever it was. Ugly defeats to Joseph Parker and Zilhei Zhang destroyed the remnants of his standing left after being battered by Tyson Fury.
Historically, there are but a handful of examples of heavyweights performing near their best beyond 40.
Naturally, the glowing lighthouse among the many ship wrecks that came before and after him is the late, great George Foreman. Aged 45, and the champion once again when he knocked out the crafty Michael Moorer in 1994. A glorious chapter in the division's history and a redemptive one for the man himself. Neither Derek Chisora or Deontay Wilder would've beaten that version of Big George when they were in their 20s and the 'prime' Foreman would've walked through both men in minutes had he co-existed in their era too.
Foreman's victory shifted perceptions and extended the careers of those who followed. Easy to forget people were worried a 32-year-old Muhammad Ali may be killed by the rampant Foreman back in 1974. Considered too old, with fading speed, it was assumed youth would prevail and Ali would be hurt. As British commentator Harry Carpenter said on the famous night of the Rumble in the Jungle in Zaire; "Oh my God! He's won the title back at 32!".
Perhaps, the convergence of their respective careers in this last, bill-topping hoorah is the perfect conclusion for both Chisora and Wilder. Not just the loser. Though highly likely to prove a platform for the victor to pursue title opportunities neither will win, a triumphant exit should be embraced by who ever claims it as readily as the golden clock for the loser.
For all the dismissal of the fight's merits and reluctance to encourage middle-age men fighting, there will be a type of sadness at night's end. Chisora has been a colourful and capable contender. Wilder explosive and unique. They will be missed.
And we will all be watching them go.
I had believed the consistent rumble of Chisora, his ability to fight sensibly with what he has, would be sufficient to out-last the disorganised, off-balance Wilder.
But at 267 pounds, I do wonder just how much the veteran Brit has already retired in his mind. And if he has. This could be even more sloppy and wretched than anyone could have feared.