In Sin City, the talk is of kin

LAS VEGAS -- Floyd Mayweather Jr. isn't nearly as well known as Oscar De La Hoya, his opponent here Saturday night in what portends to be the top revenue-producing pay-per-view event in boxing history. And despite his perfect record (37-0, 24 KOs) in the ring, his millions in the bank, and the 12,000-square-foot mansion he owns not far from The Strip, the 30-year-old Lil Floyd sometimes gets a little lost in the Mayweather family tree.

A casual fight fan (read: most of North America, if not the world these days) might have trouble figuring Floyd Jr. from Floyd Sr., the latter of whom was also a fighter by trade, long before the day he was dealt a 5 1/2-year sentence for trafficking cocaine in laundry detergent boxes. Then there is Roger Mayweather, who also had a pro boxing career, though that was considerably less stellar than that of older brother Floyd Sr.

Roger, by the way, is also Floyd Jr.'s trainer, and has been for years, save for his few months away recently while serving a prison hitch for a domestic-abuse charge.

"At the time this fight was made," Roger Mayweather said yesterday in the midst of the final press conference extravaganza leading up to the super welterweight world championship bout , "I was somewhere . . . restin'. Yeah, I was restin', man. But, OK, I did my time, and now I am back doing what I like to do."

By no means -- or intent -- the featured speaker on the dais inside the MGM Hotel's Hollywood Theater, Roger Mayweather kept talking, to the point of absurdity, especially when he launched a verbal attack on Freddie Roach, the gritty ex-boxer from Dedham, Mass., and son of a tree surgeon, who these days is De La Hoya's trainer.

Along with referring to the 47-year-old Roach as "a punching bag," Roger Mayweather went on to say that even if he were afflicted with polio, Roach wouldn't be able "to whup me." It was in horribly poor taste, especially in light of the fact that Roach, widely liked and respected throughout the industry, suffers from punch-induced Parkinson's disease, the price he paid for his fearless, dogged ways in the ring.

"Why's he talking about Freddie Roach?" De La Hoya later wondered. "Is Roger having flashbacks? Does he think he's fighting again?"

Roach, by the way, wouldn't be in De La Hoya's corner for this fight if not for a parting of the ways between De La Hoya and Mayweather Sr., the Golden Boy's longtime trainer. Floyd Sr. was all set to hand De La Hoya (38-4, 30 KOs) all the secrets to beating Floyd Jr., proving without a doubt that canvas is thicker than blood. But Floyd Sr. pegged his asking price too high, and rather than pay the elder Mayweather $2 million, De La Hoya turned to the bespectacled Roach.

For all the many and sordid Mayweather entanglements, the family member who will be fighting here Saturday -- at least we are led to believe there will be only one Mayweather fighting -- should present De La Hoya a formidable test.

"I'm not chasing fame, and I'm not chasing money," said Mayweather Jr., owner of world titles in four weight categories, and widely held as the best pound-for-pound pugilist in today's game. "I'm chasing respect and a legend."

De La Hoya, though slightly bigger, is also four years older (34 ) and has had but one bout in the last 2 1/2 years. He is, by his opponent's measure, old and soft, more interested in the country club scene, cutting records, and building a diversified business empire than he is in trading hooks and jabs.

Following the press conference, Mayweather Jr. continually said he is certain that De La Hoya is nervous, as nervous as he has been in his career, which is exactly what De La Hoya has said in recent days about Mayweather.

Mayweather also said he believes his opponent made a critical mistake by training the last two months in Puerto Rico -- the original home of De La Hoya's wife -- while the Michigan-born-and-raised Mayweather prepped just down the street.

The difference: exactly 2,028 feet, the altitudinal difference between sandy shore and sandy desert floor.

"He trained at sea level," said Mayweather, the rock-jawed geologist. "Now he's fighting up here, and I'm tellin' ya, he's not going to be able to adjust."

Changes have been nearly as central to Mayweather's career as his lightning-fast combinations, which have helped him remain generally unmarked. His nickname, "Pretty Boy Floyd," dates to his amateur days, prior to his winning an Olympic bronze medal in Atlanta in 1996, and it is a tribute to the fact that opponents rarely nick his skin, never mind rattle his jaw.

"To be a good boxer," he said, applying an index finger to the appropriate points of anatomy, "you need a good head, a good jaw, and a good heart. God doesn't make mistakes."

Like too many athletes in the sweet science, though, Mayweather's 20-plus years in the ring led him through a vast array of trainers and managers, which in part delayed the huge paydays -- and higher profile -- he's enjoyed only in recent years. Ultimately, the key for him was to hook up with Leonard Ellerbe , his respected adviser. Ellerbe, whose low-key and sensible ways haven't stopped Mayweather from shooting off his mouth incessantly, especially in De La Hoya's direction in the weeks leading up to this bout, has helped him cobble together prudent and lucrative deals, ultimately leading to Saturday's blockbuster dubbed, "The World Awaits," by PPV provider HBO.

Raised in Grand Rapids, and a frequent visitor to the gym while Floyd Sr. trained, the younger Mayweather was just an infant when he was fully baptized by the waters of Mayweather family dysfunction.

According to a June 2005 Sports Illustrated report, the boy was only a year old when his father and uncle Tony got into an argument over Floyd Sr.'s attempt to try to evict Tony. With Tony brandishing a shotgun his way, Floyd Sr. said, "This is all I got in the world -- my son -- so if you're going to kill me, shoot." The shot missed the child, but blew away a chunk of Floyd Sr.'s lower left leg.

With uncle Roger in the slammer when Floyd Jr. began to train for this fight a couple of months ago, his dad, having priced himself out of De La Hoya's corner, took over his son's training. Out of jail, Roger promptly resumed the job, eventually leading to Floyd Sr.'s dismissal, and eventually leading to tough words and full renewal of sibling grudges between Roger and Floyd Sr. Round and round it goes.

While Pretty Boy Floyd and Roger sat side by side at the dais here, Floyd Sr. sat offstage among the crush of media. He'll be in the stands Saturday night, one of the 16,200 spectators in the MGM Grand Garden Arena, using a ticket offered him by De La Hoya.

"My dad wants all the fame," said Floyd Jr., a large and dazzling bejeweled cross dangling around his neck, adding candidly that his father is a good trainer, but one of many good trainers. "He keeps showing up. But you know what? I still love him."

One tough-lovin' family, the Mayweathers. And for De La Hoya, it could be one tough act to beat.

Kevin Paul Dupont can be reached at dupont@globe.com.