Corrie Sanders, who died last week at the age of 46 after being shot during an armed robbery, may have been South Africa's greatest heavyweight ever, but the former world champion loathed the sport.
"I hate boxing," he said during a dinner conversation in the US in mid-1998, two days before a fight.
Sanders, a Craven Week flyhalf, explained that he would have chosen rugby over boxing, had the game been professional when he left school.
"You won't see me at a boxing tournament after I've retired," he vowed.
Two days after that chat, Sanders destroyed Bobby Czyz in less than five minutes. Czyz had made Evander Holyfield look so awkward in 1996 that nobody had given him a chance against Mike Tyson.
Sanders was underrated for much of his career, and it took him years to redeem his 1994 knockout defeat to journeyman Nate Tubbs.
"In the changing-room after that fight, Corrie said he was going to pack it in," said trainer Harold Volbrecht. "I told him, 'No, Corrie, just go to the press conference and tell the media you'll be back.'"
Sanders was easy-going and enjoyed playing pranks. On a trip abroad, he threw a water bomb out of a hotel window; it exploded next to an unsuspecting journalist sun-tanning on the pool deck.
Last week, he joked around as daughter Marinique, 15, shopped for shoes to wear to her cousin's 21st birthday party, where Sanders was shot by armed robbers.
Marinique had mentioned how skipping was a fad at school, so Sanders jumped up and down in the store, pretending that he was skipping.
"He knew he would embarrass her, and she was saying, 'No, dad, not here,'" said ex-wife Sunet.
"But then he hugged her and kissed her. And that embarrassed her more, and he was laughing."
It's an indictment on the sport that the southpaw had to wait until he was 37 to get his big shot, against Wladimir Klitschko, for the WBO heavyweight crown in 2003.
He won that in two rounds and, in the ring afterwards, slapped Klitschko's brother, Vitali, in the face during a verbal exchange.
Sanders was unable to train sufficiently for his official fight with Vitali the next year, having injured his potent left hand.
The official version was that he had fallen through a window, but the truth is that he had punched glass during an argument with a girlfriend.
Sanders ran out of gas in the eighth round, but he never ran out of guts, staying on his feet, despite taking big shots from the Ukrainian.
Sanders returned home, having earned what he said was enough to live on for the rest of his life.
But the cash ran out. There were lawsuits from a previous promoter, and others dipped in.
Sanders later insisted he had been paid less than what was stipulated in the contract.
He hated paperwork - even filling out simple immigration forms - and said he had given his manager, Vernon Smith, power of attorney.
"Corrie trusted everybody," said Sunet. "I think a lot of people got rich out of Corrie."
Having lost everything, Sanders relied on friends and worked as a debt collector.
But he stayed happy in the company of his children. His love for them was evident. Each time he returned from overseas, he would embrace them tightly at the airport, large tears rolling down his cheeks.
Sanders never got to enjoy the birthday treat he had arranged for son Dean, who turned 12 on Friday - a massage for both of them at a golf club.
Sanders is survived by his two children, mother, brother and sister.
