David Tua was an action figure in more ways than one

By Steve Bunce

IN a hotel suite high above the end of the Strip in Las Vegas, Dan Goossen was playing with a new action-figure doll.

“Meet TuaMan,” he said and moved the dolls flexible arms to mimic throwing big rights and short, bendy left hooks.

It was a just few days before the fight between Lennox Lewis and David Tua for the IBF and WBC heavyweight titles at the Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas. There was no shortage of dolls and dreams in that plush suite.

Big Dan was Tua’s man, and he really believed that Tua would upset Lewis on the night. Tua was on an unbeaten sequence of 10 wins since dropping a points decision to Ike Ibeabuchi, his only loss in 38 fights; Tua had stopped Hasim Rahman on that run in the 10th round of a fight that he was clearly losing – he had come from behind a few times. It was a good run and Goossen’s faith was understandable.

The tales started to flow once fight week started and there were some absolute beauties. Goossen became the chief grinner in the land of sighs as parts of Tua’s life were told in mad instalments. “You are going to love this,” warned Goossen. And we did.

Back in Western Samoa, Tua’s father, Tuavale, had found men to spar with the 10-year-old boy. The dad encouraged the men to not hold back by offering a loaf of bread as the prize. If little David ran, he had to deal with his father’s belt after the sparring.

At 12, David joined his father and the rest of his family in New Zealand. They were hard times for the Islanders in a notorious place called Mangere in south Auckland. There were 30 members of the Tua clan in one apartment. The poverty and hardship were real; bikes, televisions and other basic items were scavenged and found on the street. Tua talked about things coming “off the curb”. It was glorious stuff. Goossen was there smiling, the TuaMan dolls ready to be shipped out when the real Tua beat Lewis.

At his ranch at the very edge of Las Vegas, Tua wandered around in a traditional sarong and looked at the tiger and a lion in the large, fenced cage. There was talk that a gorilla would be added to the vicious menagerie. Tua and his people were a great story.

The boxer’s mother told a lovely tale about his brilliant left hook. He used that arm to cut down the long grass outside the family home in the village. Nobody could cut down grass like little David. It was part Walt Disney that week, it really was. The Throwin’ Samoan also denied he was 5ft 11ins. “I’m 5ft 9ins,” he insisted. 

An old, old friend of mine called Wally Matthews, writing in the New York Post, said: “Tua is built like an outhouse and hits like the bricks used to build it.”

“This guy can take you out with a single blow,” said Manny Steward. “Lennox could be just one punch away from losing the title.” Lewis was concerned about Tua’s new mop of hair and what would happen if that got in his face? “Who knows what type of island juice he puts in his hair?” he asked. The TuaMan dolls all had that distinctive mop of hair.

Manny also picked up on something that was being forgotten about Tua: “He has never been staggered, knocked down or cut and that is unusual after so many years as a heavyweight.” In that sentence, we knew how Lennox would win. Manny was not a fool, and neither was Lennox. “If I stick my chin up, I will I’ll get caught and be in trouble,” he said three days before the fight.

It was, that afternoon, refreshing to talk about the Tua fight. Lewis, you see, had been asked about Mike Tyson all week. Tyson had shown up briefly at a training session the week before in New York City at Grand Central Station. Lewis was getting annoyed at the Tyson distraction. “His team [Tyson] are not showing Tua any respect – I am,” he said. At one of the conferences in Las Vegas, Steve Crocodile Fitch, Tyson’s chief cheerleader arrived to heckle. “Crocodiles belong in the swamp,” Lewis said without missing a beat. It is amazing reading back over columns from the time just how smart Lewis was with the media – we never saw a lot of him, but what we got was quality.

“I’m going to puzzle him,” Lewis promised. “I have to make sure I don’t leave myself open; I have to make sure I don’t over-reach and leave myself exposed.” Lewis and Steward were a genius double when they were focused.

“This could be an explosive fight – I’m looking for a knockout, not a recount,” said Tua. “Or it could be a very boring fight.” A day later, Lewis never put a foot wrong or threw a wayward punch and retained with scores of 119-109, 118-110 and 117-111.

A few months after beating Tua, Lewis lost to Rahman in South Africa, Tua fought on until 2013 and sweet Dan died in 2014. I have no idea where the 10,000 TuaMan dolls are right now. I like to think that the gorilla arrived at the ranch and is still living there peacefully now, And, in 2002, Lewis finished Tyson in just eight rounds, and it was not pretty to watch.