It is a story about a father and a son, from a faraway land, who dreamed of coming here and fulfilling a shared destiny that might not have been possible had they remained on their tiny South Pacific island. It is also the story of a retired American prizefighter who provided the inspiration that brought a poor family to these shores to find the better life they imagined could be had, because, well, every person in these United States is free to become whatever he or she wants to be, right?

If you choose to dismiss Saturday night's celebrity boxing match between NBC 10 sports anchor Vai Sikahema and Jose Canseco in Atlantic City's Bernie Robbins Stadium as meaningless fluff, go ahead. But take a look at the beaming father from Tonga and the ex-heavyweight from Utah, an improbable reunion that was 35 years in the making. Consider the son standing inside the ring, the now-grown-up Tongan kid with the big heart who was supposed to become a champion boxer but got sidetracked by another vision and became a Pro Bowl punt returner instead.

Sometimes the American dream doesn't work out quite as planned, but that doesn't mean there aren't other avenues to success for those with ambition and a strong work ethic.

"You know what? The dreams I had when I came to America have all been fulfilled," said Loni Sikahema, 68, Vai's father. "I love my neighbors in Mesa, Ariz. They treat me like a real American. I just want to express my love and appreciation for all the people in this country, but especially the people in Philadelphia who have taken such good care of Vai.

"Vai, to me, is the man of Philadelphia. He is not the man of Tonga anymore. He is not the man of Mesa, Ariz., anymore. He is the man of Philadelphia."

But if Vai Sikahema, 45, no longer has an identity crisis as to who and what he is, he realizes there is one last piece of the puzzle that needs to be snapped into place before he finds total contentment. His father came to the United States - indeed, brought the family here in increments in the early 1970s - so that Vai could evolve into the next Rocky Marciano, the next Joe Frazier.

Whittling down the 6-4, 240-pound Canseco won't accomplish that goal, but, hey, it's a reasonable substitute at this stage of an adventurous life.

"My father trained me to be a fighter. It was his dream," said Vai, who played eight seasons in the NFL, the last two with the Eagles in 1992 and '93, and earned trips to the Pro Bowl with the Cardinals in 1986 and '87.

"See, they don't play American football in Tonga, but they do fight. Boxing's an international sport. My dad's intention was to train me to become a world-class fighter someday.

"Would I have been? Nobody knows. Clearly, I would have turned pro at some point in my life had I not started playing football."

The Sikahema family's obsession with boxing traces back to the 1950s, when Chuck Woodworth - the Salt Lake City heavyweight who posted a 14-7-1 record, with seven knockout victories, from 1952 to '59 - arrived in Tonga as a teacher at Loni's high school. The final three bouts of Woodward's career took place in New Zealand, a comparative neighbor of Tonga in the vast Pacific Ocean.

"Mr. Woodworth taught those of us who wanted to learn how to box," Loni said. "I wanted to learn. I quickly came to love boxing."

That's boxing, as opposed to fighting. Tongan boys fought all the time because . . . well, just because.

"We played rugby, and sometimes fights would break out before the rugby started," Loni recalled. "There did not have to be a reason."

Woodworth figured it would be better to channel all that pent-up aggression into an organized activity, so he formed a high school boxing team that competed against other schools in the Tongan archipelago, a chain of 169 islands south of Samoa, 36 of which are inhabited.

Loni Sikahema was one of Woodworth's quickest studies. Certainly, he was not lacking for confidence whenever he tugged on the gloves.

"I was not a professional, but I was not afraid of anyone," he recalled. "I believed that if I did become a pro, I would beat all of them."

But Vai came along to Loni and his wife, Ruby, altering Loni's focus. It would have to be the first-born son who did all those great things in the ring Loni had thought he might do.

Lacking the funds to bring everyone along just then, Loni moved to Hawaii by himself. Ruby came next, leaving Vai and his two younger siblings with grandparents. Loni then relocated to California, then to Utah, and finally to Mesa, which he concluded was just the environment for a world-champion-in-the-making.

"I had too many Tongan friends in those other places," Loni said. "In Hawaii, whenever I had to take Vai to the gym, my friends wanted me to go with them to a barbecue, to go swimming. This is the reason I don't want to stay in Hawaii. I needed to find someplace on the mainland where Vai could become a world champion."

He found it, in a Phoenix suburb called Mesa. Vai said he had "between 80 and 90" amateur bouts between the ages of 7 and 14 and acquitted himself quite well, but by then he had developed a fascination with football.

"One day he say to me, 'Dad, I want to play football. If I play football, I will become one of the best,' '' Loni recalled. "I said, 'Vai, how will you make a living?' I did not realize then that there was such a thing as professional football."

For a time, Vai split his schedule between boxing and football. But after two all-state seasons at Mesa High, he was offered a football scholarship to Brigham Young and that basically was that. He was through with boxing forever.

Or maybe not. After scoring an Eagles touchdown on a punt return against the Giants in 1992, Vai celebrated by pummeling the padded goalpost with a flurry of textbook-perfect punches. It was the stuff that highlight reels are made of.

That would have been our fleeting glimpse of Vai Sikahema, the onetime boxer, except for the intervention of Damon Feldman, who was promoting a series of celebrity boxing matches. Feldman figured Vai could reprise his goalpost-pounding routine for real.

"Damon first approached me 10 or 12 years ago, after I had gotten out of football," Vai said. "He wanted to put me in with Frank Bialowas, the resident tough guy with the Phantoms. We were all set; we were going to do it. But Bialowas blew out his knee late in the season and the fight never came off."

For a time, Sikahema admits to getting a bit "fat and soft," so he returned to the gym to whip his body back into shape. And that's when Feldman, somewhat fortuitously, came calling again.

"Damon said, 'I got this crazy thing going with Danny Bonaduce. Would you be interested?' " Vai said. "Hey, timing is everything. I told him I'd love to do it. I thought it would be fun. But that didn't come off either. Bonaduce [the former "Partridge Family" kid] didn't want to do it. But Damon did pair me with David Cruise, a local disc jockey."

Sikahema won that one, and now he's about to throw down with the Cuban-born Canseco in an exhibition that is really quite serious business, when you consider that both men are proud former professional athletes. And so what if Vai, only 5-9 and 200 pounds, is giving away 7 inches and 40 or so pounds?

"I don't have the reflexes to get in the ring with Bernard Hopkins or Oscar De La Hoya, but if you put me in with someone my age [Canseco is 44] and who is not an experienced boxer, I should do all right," Sikahema said.

"I'm banking that my skill level, power and ability to close the distance will offset the size differential. He'll have to punch down and find me. It won't be easy; I'm not going to stand still. I'm going to bob and weave, work my way inside and find out if he can take a punch."

Vai is bringing in his father and also Woodworth so they can share the moment. And why not? In a way, this is their moment, too. It's also major news on a patch of earth halfway around the globe, where this otherwise meaningless exhibition bout is the pugilistic equivalent of Louis vs. Schmeling, Ali vs. Frazier, Tyson vs. Holyfield.

"I think I can safely say that 105,000 Tongans are well aware that I am fighting Jose Canseco," Sikahema said. "I do not intend to disappoint them." *