Singh's wife, Khoni Devi, emerges from the kitchen at the back of the apartment. It is immediately apparent that she is an athlete -- something about her stance and her well-defined cheekbones give her away.

Until a few years ago, Singh says, his wife was a competitive weightlifter and competed in the Junior World Championships in 1999. Khoni, who hails from Manipur in northeastern India, has retired from the sport and stays at home, looking after their two-and-a-half-year-old daughter Sarvi.

I ask her if she's coming for the fight, and she shakes her head. There's the kid, of course, but so far Khoni has never watched her husband fight.

"No," she says, smiling, "I'm scared. This is no good."

A convoy of cars leaves for the Tropicana. Once there, Doran and Singh head off to get a bite, and the rest of the entourage goes upstairs to a room Doran has booked. It is only about eight in the evening and the casino is nowhere close to busy. The big crowds from New York City, Philadelphia, Washington, DC and other parts of Jersey are yet to arrive, leaving a few stray gamblers clutching their token cups at one of hundreds of slot machines.

Also see: Death be not Proud