Jose Antonio Rivera is a 31-year-old journeyman pug from Worcester, Massachusetts. He owns a belt from the World Boxing Association which says he is the welterweight champion of the world, although, truth be told, this title doesn't hold much significance to anyone save Rivera, his family, and Ricardo Mayorga.America At Large

Mayorga is the Nicaraguan who took the boxing world more or less by storm a year ago. Already the WBA champion, he beat the previously undefeated Vernon Forrest (the 2002 "Fighter of the Year" who had scored back-to-back wins over Shane Mosley at a time when Mosley was widely acclaimed as the world's best pound-for-pound performer), and then whipped Forrest again in a rematch.

Rivera, who is apparently aware of his own limitations, has never given up his day job. He schedules his training sessions around his work hours as a court officer for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, because, he explained, "boxing won't last forever. I'm a single parent of a 10-year-old son, and my job includes benefits and has a good health-care plan."

Three and a half years ago, Rivera and Dublin's Jim Rock shared the card at the Worcester Centrum, where each won an eight-round decision, Rivera over Angel Beltre and Rock over Tommy Attardo. Both fought as light-middleweights that night; Irish promoter Brian Peters hoped at the time to match Rivera and Rock next time out, but nothing came of it.

Mayorga's 2003 arrival on the world stage made a big splash. A colourful throwback to hell-raising old-school boxers, he smoked and guzzled beer even in training, and celebrated his victories by lighting up a cigarette in the ring.

With his wins over Forrest, Mayorga was elevated to "super champion" status. A comparatively recent development among the sanctioning organisations, this ridiculous ploy enabled the WBA to auction off yet another "world" championship even as it recognised Mayorga's presumably extraterrestrial title.

So last September Rivera, who had moved up in the rankings since enlisting in the stable of Don King, travelled to Germany to fight one Michel Trabant for the previously non-existent belt. Trabant was until then undefeated, but Rivera posted a unanimous decision.

Mayorga had already signed for a big-money fight with Mosley last December when he controversially lost to Leon Spinks's son Corey in Atlantic City. Corey Spinks had previously owned the International Boxing Federation title, and by acquiring Mayorga's two belts he suddenly became a "super champion". King then matched Rivera and Mayorga on the undercard of last Saturday's John Ruiz-Fres Oquendo/Chris Byrd-Andrew Golota heavyweight double header at Madison Square Garden, with Rivera's "championship" in the offing, thus setting the stage for this cautionary tale of boxing politics.

Clearly, though he promoted both men, King was banking on Mayorga winning a "title" that might provide leverage to vault him back into the spotlight, but Rivera would be handsomely compensated for putting his dubious championship at risk - his scheduled $250,000 about 10 times his largest previous payday.

All went well until Friday's weigh-in. At 146½ lbs, Rivera safely made the welterweight limit, but Mayorga nearly broke the scale when he came in nearly half a stone too heavy.

Consternation ensued. Under WBA rules Mayorga could have been allowed two hours to shed the excess six and a half pounds, but that alternative was obviously futile. The Rivera camp finally agreed that if Mayorga lost two pounds by nightfall, the bout could proceed as a non-title fight, but evening came and went without Mayorga returning to the scale.

Negotiations continued through the next morning. King so desperately wanted Mayorga on the pay-per-view telecast that he offered to pay Rivera his scheduled quarter-million dollar purse to go through with the fight, in which he would have retained his "title", win or lose.

Rivera manager Steve (Tank) Tankarow rightly pointed out that his fighter might be imperilled by fighting an opponent so much larger. But the danger was apparently not so great that Tankarow wouldn't have let Rivera fight for $300,000. When King refused to budge on this point, the title bout was "postponed" and the promoter found another opponent (Philadelphian Eric Mitchell) for Mayorga.

From King's standpoint this was a sensible alternative, since at least a few thousand fans might have purchased the telecast specifically to see Mayorga, while Rivera couldn't have been responsible for more than a dozen buys.

With Rivera, who had done nothing wrong, watching from the audience, then, Mayorga posted an easy 10-round decision over Mitchell, though several hundred Rivera supporters who had travelled to New York waved placards decrying the perceived injustice, while chants of "Bullshit!" and "We want Rivera!" punctuated the air throughout Mayorga's fight.

The denouement wouldn't come, however, until two days later.

Rivera wasn't present - he was back on the job in the Worcester court - when the New York State Athletic Commission convened on Monday to consider the whole fiasco. In a Solomonic decree, Chairman Ron Scott Stevens ordered that someone - nominally Mayorga, although in all likelihood the sum will ultimately come from King's coffers - owed Rivera $50,000 for his trouble, and that if the money weren't immediately forthcoming, Mayorga would be placed on indefinite suspension until it was paid.

It was a small victory for the little guy. Rivera still has his title and his job, and in the end, he collected his largest career purse for sitting in the stands with his son while he watched some other guy fight.