Nearly six years have passed since the night that changed the life of Lennox Lewis, when the fighting fruitcake Oliver McCall shut his eyes and hurled a right hand into Lewis's jaw which sent the champion crashing to the canvas. Many thought a wonderful dream might be over, but tonight Lewis returns to the London Arena for a farewell British appearance against Frans Botha as a boxer so supreme in his division that it is hard to believe the McCall defeat ever happened.

Words such as "game" and "bighearted" have been used of Botha this week, as the 34-year-old Lewis prepares for his first fight in England since McCall.

But it is, frankly, difficult to give the 31-year-old South African more than the remotest of chances of victory, and Lewis should be free to contemplate earning yet more millions later in the year by risking his World Boxing Council and International Boxing Federation belts once again.

Botha is as brave as they come, or at least he has been in his fights to date. But Lewis's career is littered with men who spoke of great deeds before experiencing some sort of rabbit-in-the-headlights syndrome when confronted with reality.

There was Andrew Golota, the roughhouse Pole who gave Riddick Bowe all the trouble he needed. Golota fought like a man facing a walk to the electric chair, and was dispatched in a minute and a half of Lewis mayhem.

Henry Akinwande held on for dear life to be disqualified - a fighting euphemism for bottling it and quitting, more often than not - and poor McCall burst into tears when Don King steered his fighter's drug-addled body through the ropes to find conclusively that lightning does not strike twice.

But Botha takes heart from moments when Lewis has been caught, such as in the opening round of his title defence against Shannon Briggs three years ago, when he wobbled alarmingly before marshalling his senses to record another win.

"I don't believe he has the best of chins," Botha has said this week, without explaining quite how he intends to get in range to prove it.

Tonight, Botha will hope to grin and bear it through the early rounds to test the champion's resolve in the later stages. Like McCall, he could also find one big shot. But it seems a forlorn hope.

The challenger loves to rile his opponents by chatting away in the ring with the sort of language that does not bear repeating in print, but it may not be a clever policy tonight.

"Don't annoy him" might be wiser counsel. Either way, Lewis wins: happily, in about six rounds, or narked, perhaps in seconds rather than minutes.