Angelo Dundee is back in Las Vegas, his second home. He's going from opulent hotel to pungent gym. Between the blinging of slot machines and the thumping of boxing gloves, he's feeling a rhythm deep in his 87-year-old bones. The noise is building. Nerves are tightening. There's a giddy edge to the desert city, manifested in twitching neon.

The big fight is Saturday night.

Dundee has been in the corner for so many big fights, from Miami Beach to Manila, through six decades as trainer of 15 world champions.

Even after all those bouts, mending the bloody cuts and sponging the puffy faces of Carmen Basilio, Muhammad Ali, Sugar Ray Leonard and George Foreman, he can hardly contain his anticipation of the next one, which is Oscar De La Hoya vs. Manny Pacquiao at the MGM Grand Garden Arena.

"This town is all shook up — it's going to be a classic," Dundee said Tuesday after eating a Vegas-style breakfast. His words come at you like a combination. "I'm excited. I'm happy amongst fight guys. All I know is boxing. I don't know nothing else. So here I am."

Dundee won't work the corner this time, but he'll be right behind it, advising De La Hoya and his trainer, Nacho Beristain, as he has throughout the Golden Boy's preparation.

Dundee is master of the sweet science, all its stratagems and pitfalls, tricks and techniques, mind games and will breakers. He's got a photographic memory dating back to 1948.

In the case of the Philippines' Pacquiao, hailed as today's best pound-for-pound fighter, Dundee noticed a tendency that he'd seen before, one Leonard capitalized on to upset Marvin Hagler.

"Hagler stepped before he punched," Dundee said. "Ray slid on him. Pacquiao does the same thing. Oscar can pounce on that."

De La Hoya, no longer golden at 35, called on Dundee for his wisdom. Dundee is predicting the popular and polished Angeleno will win by decision. He doesn't think the shorter Pacquiao's move up to welterweight (147 pounds) will be a factor.

"Pacquiao's style is the height of aggression — busy, busy, busy," Dundee said. "But Oscar is the better fighter. He's been training like a 21-year-old."

It was Dundee who made Cassius Clay into a champion during his Miami years, giving him the freedom to flaunt his flair as a poetic showman and fleet-footed heavyweight, and later supporting him as a conscientious objector to the Vietnam War and a devout Muslim who changed his name to Muhammad Ali.

Dundee adapted to his unorthodox protege at the Fifth Street Gym, opened by brother Chris. During the 1960s, it was a scene, and even The Beatles stopped by to spar. Dundee talked Clay through the stunning technical knockout of Sonny Liston, when Clay wanted to quit because he couldn't see; he thought he'd been sabotaged.

He was in Ali's corner against Joe Frazier for the steamy Thriller in Manila, "the closest Muhammad said he ever came to death." And against George Foreman for the Rumble in the Jungle of Zaire, where Dundee was accused of loosening the ropes to accommodate Ali's "Rope-A-Dope" strategy. Not true, he said.

"Muhammad would come around to my corner leaning onto the ropes and I'd slap him and tell him to get out of there, and he'd say he knew what he was doing, and sure enough, he did," he said.

He coached Basilio over Sugar Ray Robinson and Leonard over Thomas Hearns and Foreman over Michael Moorer.

Boxing is conflict stripped to its ancient essence, and Dundee finds that each drama unfolds anew.

Eighty-seven years old, and he still bounces through conversations as if he's on his toes. "I'll retire when I die," Dundee said.

He's healthier than Ali, whom he sees frequently, although "Parkinson's is kicking the heck out of him."

He's healthier than his sport, which is lurching toward another unseemly spectacle as mid-40s heavyweight has-beens Riddick Bowe and Evander Holyfield plan comebacks.

Dundee misses Miami and its Italian restaurants since he moved north to Oldsmar, near Tampa, last year to be closer to his daughter, son and six grandchildren.

"Helen got sick and almost left me," Dundee said of his wife of 56 years. "But those Irish girls are tough, let me tell you."

Let him tell you about the prospects he's working with now. Or how he taught actor Will Smith to impersonate Ali and Russell Crowe to fight like James J. Braddock in Cinderella Man — "my 16th world champion," he said, laughing.

"I think I'm a happy character," he said, explaining his energy. "I enjoy people."

Then he's off to the gym, where he'll put a towel over his shoulder and talk to De La Hoya. He's got a big fight Saturday night. The bell rings again for Angelo Dundee.