Tyson Fury lay on his back. His eyes staring at the ceiling, the bright lights blinding, as if on an operating table
Out of his vision, Deontay Wilder drew a hand across his throat. It was over. The fight was done
He had hit plenty of opponents like that before. He knew how it ended. Yet, somehow, Fury rose
Like a horror film monster, like that which cannot be killed, up he got, on he marched, to the end
There were two minutes left. Fury made it through them. He had done his job, too
He had fought more smartly, more bravely, better than anyone can have imagined. He fought technically, tactically, but it was never boring
He played the showman, but not the clown, not the stooge. He grimaced, and gurned, he dropped his hands, held them outstretched, placed them behind his back
He took the mick, but with purpose. He let Wilder punch himself out. He taunted, trapped and tricked him
Drew him to miss, so, so many times. Meaning that when the moment came for the coup de grace, Wilder simply didn't have it in him
He wasn't laser focussed, as he needed to be. He couldn't hit the target; and he lacked the power to put Fury down a third time
So he didn't win. He didn't lose either, this being the most frustrating of split decisions: a draw
One judge for Fury, one for Wilder, one level. So it's a rematch. Anthony Joshua finds himself shut out of heavyweight boxing's best show, for now at least
And credit Fury for that, too. He took on Wilder, the more explosive puncher in the division, at a time when he appeared woefully under-prepared and out of condition
It really is no surprise that the majority of Wilder's best rounds came late. By then, Fury, three stone heavier and his skin wobbling as he danced around the ring with remarkable agility all things considered, must have been running off fumes
Yet his game intelligence shone through, always. He talked of having surprises for Wilder, and he was nothing if not truthful
He didn't fight negatively as he did against Wladimir Klitschko, but everything he did was shot through with smartness, even when he appeared to be playing the fool
At times, it appeared as if Wilder was fighting Buster Bloodvessel from Bad Manners – not that the champion would have recognised the homage – sticking his tongue out from beneath his shaven crown and waggling it, mockingly, his quivering frame poking its own fun, juxtaposed with Wilder's athletic tone
Look at me, he seemed to be saying. Look at this. And you can't get near me, Deontay
Can't lay a glove on me, can you? And when he did, when he got through – in the ninth and the final round – Fury's resilience was quite remarkable
He can take a punch, this night proved that. He can avoid one, too. Big swing, big miss, big swing, big miss
The judge that scored the fight by four points to Wilder must have been impressed by his aggression, because his accuracy was woeful
So, was it a travesty, as many believe? Was Fury robbed? Probably not. The two knockdown, 10-8 rounds, just about saved Wilder and the draw was a fair result
It assures they will do it again, when Fury will be fitter and better prepared, providing he maintains his regime
At which point, he has the edge. If he can stay out of Wilder's way, he has the beating of him technically
And, most importantly, America will want to see him as much as his home crowd. Suddenly, it is not just Joshua who is the stadium draw
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