BIG BEAR LAKE, Calif. -- For most people, the day would have been over. Seven hours of pictures, autographs and speeches squeezed between three Muslim prayers at two L.A. mosques would have been enough. Especially with a two-and-a-half-hour drive still ahead.

	Hasim Rahman hopes he still has that championship form for his rematch with Lennox Lewis on Saturday.

But Hasim Rahman isn't like most people. Beneath the colorful, trash-talking façade of the heavyweight champion exists a core of confidence, cockiness and bravado. "His own man," says trainer Adrian Davis. "Truly unique," says manager Steve Nelson. "Somebody who does what he wants," says father John Cason.

So on this clear starry night, just eight days before his rematch with Lennox Lewis, the man he knocked out to become the IBF, IBO and WBC belts-holder last April, Rahman did what he felt like doing: He went shopping for a new ride.

Forget that it was 7:30 on a Friday night and most car dealers were closed. Forget that in his posse were nine others from the Rahman camp, many of whom were eager to get home. Forget that he hadn't seen a punching bag since the night before. And forget that he was some 2,600 miles from his Baltimore home, meaning any new toy would have to be shipped back East.

Forget all that, because the Champ had that look in his eye, that extra bounce in his step. After a day of doing unto others, he was ready to do unto himself. And when the Champ wants to do something, the Champ does it.

Period.

Even if Rahman, behind the wheel of a red conversion van, is pushing 60 and 70 mph through the narrow straights and sharp turns of Rim of the World Drive in the San Bernardino Mountains, you hold on, close your eyes and keep quiet. It's a pride thing.

Later, when Rahman gets a late-night craving for donuts and rolls into the Crenshaw Krispy Kreme, where he drops $50 on donuts and juices for his crew, you shut your mouth and reap the benefits.

And a day later, when the bold, brash, won't-back-down-from-anyone Rahman crazily spars with Clifford Etienne, a 22-1 heavyweight contender from New Orleans, you bite your lip -- hard. That's because either in the gym or out, it's Rahman's world. He picks the soundtrack of his workouts, which, depending on the day, varies from old-school Lionel Richie and Babyface to the latest Jay-Z, Ja Rule or DMX.

He determines when he's going to work out, how long he's going to work out and how many rounds he's going to spar. In one recent session, scheduled for seven 5-minute rounds with the punching bag, Rahman demanded 12.

"He's a guy who has to want to do it, has to know why he's doing it, before he'll do it," his trainer Davis said. "But when all those things fall into place, his work ethic is unrivaled."

Some -- Lewis included -- say he's a chump. They say his April knockout was a fluke, a lucky punch, and that this Saturday, he's going to suffer from the Buster Douglas syndrome, shocking the world in one fight then falling on his back in the next.

Those words light the fire inside The Rock. It's what motivates him to get out of bed before dawn and run eight miles in the 7,000-foot elevation of Big Bear. It's what pushes him to demand 14 rounds of sparring instead of the customary seven.

Training with the Champ

A little more than two months ago, Ron Hill knew little about boxing. The big names and the basics he had covered, but not much else. But now, after spending the past 10 weeks with heavyweight champion Hasim Rahman as the cameraman for ESPN's "The Season," Hill not only understands the sport, but considers himself a fan. "I knew Ali and Frazier, the greats," Hill said. "But I was not never a boxing fan. It didn't interest me. But now that's all changed. These guys are real people who are striving to be their best. I consider fighters to be the ultimate athlete. If any other athlete put in the time and effort I've seen Hasim put in these past two months, they'd be the best in the world." "The Season," a look inside Rahman's world as he prepares to defend the heavyweight title against Lennox Lewis on Saturday, debuts Wednesday at 7 p.m. ET on ESPN. The show will be re-aired on ESPN2 Friday at 11:30 p.m ET. Hill's time with Rahman took him from a training facility in the Catskills to the fighter's hometown of Baltimore to 7,000 feet above sea level at Big Bear Lake, Calif. Along the way, he got a rare insider's look at what it's like to be the heavyweight champion of the world and what it takes to defend that title. "The biggest thing is to be able to see Hasim in his own character," Hill said. "He is who he is. And that surprised me very much. He's a guy who doesn't change for all the glitz and glamour and lights. He's genuine. And I liked that." Hill said he is confident the show will convey that personality. In 21 years of working on various documentaries -- including subjects such as Kurt Warner, Karl Malone, L.L. Cool J and Rebecca Romijn Stamos -- the Rahman project, he says, was one of his favorites. "We basically sat down and looked at the other 'Season' programs and asked ourselves what we could do to make it better," Hill said. "And this is what we came up with. It's basically a mix of documentary style with cinema-like features. And nothing is recreated or set up. It's all true. I can't wait to see the finished product."

"It's time for Lennox to finish getting his head cracked," Rahman said. "And once and for all, I will dismiss this whole Buster Douglas thing."

And it's what pushes him to invite someone like Etienne, better known as "The Black Rhino," to spar. The macho bravado sometimes leaves Davis wondering if his boxer could be overconfident. Watching Rahman take a few solid blows against Etienne furthers that point. But there's little choice in the matter. Just ask Nelson, who couldn't help but cringe while watching Rahman trade blows with the shorter, beefier Black Rhino.

"It's like rock 'em, sock 'em robots out there," Nelson said. "From a professional standpoint, no, that's not the normal way to prepare for a fight. But from a personal standpoint, as his manager and his friend, yes. It's whatever makes him happy, makes him comfortable and builds his confidence."

Shopping for cars
Take the car shopping. After finding a couple locals to lead the way to Beverly Hills Rolls-Royce, Rahman's red conversion van led a caravan of four others that looked equally out of place in front of the prissy showroom.

"Am I always this spontaneous? Hell yeah," Rahman said as he walked through the glass doors to the showroom floor. "But looking ain't so spur of the moment. Buying is."

Rahman, his muscular frame bulging out of a black T-shirt and dark blue jeans, certainly didn't look like your typical Rolls driver. But a famous name, a couple of gold belts and a fat bank account can change perceptions real fast.

It wasn't always this way. Rahman, who grew up on the streets of Baltimore and just last week turned 29, never thought he'd see 21. He's a man who built his reputation as a street fighter, nearly dying in the early 1990s when a Baltimore brawl turned to gunfire, and Rahman took five bullets. Before that, he nearly died when a friend's speeding pickup truck flipped, pinning Rahman's face under the gas tank and leaving a nasty scar that still covers his right cheek.

So standing in this high-end showroom among some of the world's finest automobiles, a room with marble floors, bright track lighting and plush leather chairs, gives Rahman a sense of accomplishment.

"Just looking for something to catch my eye," he says.

Those eyes first melt at the sight of a 2002 Aston Martin DB7 Advantage in Aston Martin green. At $159,000, "mint" just doesn't have the right ring to it. The sleek, seductive sports car, which will be used in the next James Bond movie, roars like a lion with its 420-horsepower V12 engine. It can go from 0-60 in five seconds and reaches speeds of 184 miles per hour.

But Rahman is relatively unimpressed. He walks away and sets his eyes on a 2001 Bentley. The interest lasts about four seconds.

"I'm only here for 2002s," he says.

That's when his gaze falls upon a 2002 Bentley Arnage, which carries a hefty price tag of $230,000. This is the ride that everyone from P. Diddy to Jay-Z rave about in their latest musings. Though it goes 0-60 in 5.9 seconds, a governor limits its top speed to 155.

Sales manager Juan Garcia tells Rahman he has taken the Arnage on a closed track and that 135 to 140 is plenty fast enough. The Rock doesn't want to hear it. Not only does he want the freshest, he wants the fastest.

"I need that 155 on the first day, man," Rahman tells Garcia, loud enough that everyone in the showroom can hear. "You don't get it. I'm talking, my house in Baltimore to New York, in like 35 minutes."

So Rahman and his brother decide to take the Aston Martin for a spin. They climb inside the virtual rocket, snag the keys from Garcia, slam the doors, and the next sound you hear is screeching rubber peeling away down Olympic Avenue. A family friend hops in his 10-year-old Cadillac and speeds after the Champ, in hopes of preventing any problems on the streets of Beverly Hills. But it's a moot point. The black Advantage is long gone.

When Rahman and his brother return, they have mixed emotions. The performance is masterful, the dashboard embarrassing.

"There's not enough stuff inside. I mean there's no light, no mirror on the roof. I love the engine, but there's no gadgets. If you're going to spend that much money, they should give you some gadgets to play with or something."

One hour, one test drive and lots of gawking later, Rahman decides he's going to hold off. As he and the rest of Team Rahman prepare to leave for the trek back to camp, Rahman notices his father, sunk deep into one of the plush leather chairs, with no apparent interest in getting up soon.

"See," Rahman says to the salesman. "Look what you did to my Dad. You gave him this nice chair, started feeding him warm coffee and now he doesn't want to go.

"Dad, get up! Let's roll."

The family life
Like everyone else in Team Rahman, Dad is here for support. John Cason won't tell his son how to act or what to do, but he stays close by in case he is needed. The family is devout Muslim, and Cason, a Hafith who memorizes the Koran, leads each of the family's five daily prayer sessions.

	Rahman urged a group of at-risk to use their minds for success and stay away from gang violence during his visit in south-central Los Angeles.

A published author, Cason recently finished the first English concordance of the Koran, and the public appearances on this Saturday were largely to promote the book. Rahman scoffs at the notion that he agreed to the appearances for his father and instead says it was for the children of the Muslim community.

"It was my duty to let them know that our team supports their team," Rahman said. "It wasn't so much for Dad. He don't tell me what to do. He respects me as a grown man. If I didn't want to go, what could he say?"

Dad fits in well in this group, taking as much crap from Rahman as anyone. In fact, spend a few days with Team Rahman and you quickly realize that talking smack, dishing digs and poking fun is all part of the deal.

And no place is it more prevalent than at the kitchen table, where there is almost always a heated battle of dominoes going on. On one particular day, the war was between Rahman and his father. Cason had taken an early lead, but the Champ had erased it with a pair of good hands and was letting everyone in the house know.

"My Dad don't know what to do when he's getting beaten," Rahman screamed to anyone who would listen. "He just doesn't know. Look at his face, quivering. He looks like he saw a ghost. Dad? Did you see a ghost?"

Minutes later, the jabbing continues. Cason loses another round, and Rahman is loving it that his Dad has to "clean the dishes," the dominoes equivalent of shuffling cards.

"I am punishing you. Do them dishes! Do them damn dishes!" Rahman yells, leaning across the table as if to egg his father on. "Come on, now. Do them dishes. Get in there and get your hands dirty. Get them dishes nice and shiny. Don't cheat on me now. Get in there."

A spectator joins the fun. "Something wrong, John Cason? You having some problems over there?"

"That's enough from the peanut gallery," Cason says, half laughing.

This is normalcy. It's rare for a fighter to bring his family with him when training for a fight, but that's how The Rock does it. The group includes his father, his brother, his best friend, his trainer, a trainer's assistant and a family friend, who does the cooking.

The group is tight, doing everything as a team. In fact, anyone who misses a public appearance or a workout is fined. It has yet to happen, though a couple times members have found themselves hitchhiking or racing a bicycle to the gym.

"They give me a sense of being home even when I'm not home," Rahman said. "When they're around, I really don't feel like I'm away from home or that I'm lost in all this work. They help me relax and help me focus."

Said Nelson, one of Rahman's two managers: "It's certainly unique. Not many fighters like to train this way. But then again, what isn't unique about this guy?"

A race to the finish
Nelson would know. After all, it was just Saturday night that he was awoken by a telephone call -- Rahman had been pulled over for rolling through a stop sign in the quiet resort community of Big Bear.

Rahman, who had just finished his nightly workout, didn't have his driver's license on him and needed the assistance of Nelson in explaining who he was, where he was coming from and that, indeed, he is a licensed driver.

Rahman got a ticket from the police and plenty of jabs from Nelson for the incident.

"Uhhh, Rock? Are you done for the night?" Nelson teased after returning to Rahman's Big Bear home. "Can I get back to sleep now?"

"Yeah, Steve," Rahman said. "Don't worry about it."

"And next week, the week of the fight," Nelson said, "Could you please try to keep some normal hours, like going to bed and waking up at normal times?"

"Uh-huh."

Scenery in boxing
There's no question this is Rahman's show. Just last Saturday, while he was beating up on his old man in dominoes and a few hours before the traffic ticket, HBO was preparing to tape a split screen interview with Rahman and Lewis, who was in Las Vegas.

	“	He's just trying to get under my skin. But he knows what's coming. ”
		— Hasim Rahman on Lennox Lewis

HBO crews spent much of the day in Rahman's home, setting up camera equipment, satellite trucks and the perfect living room backdrop for the interview. At one point, the on-site HBO representative told Rahman that he should change his black T-shirt to either blue or gray, to better complement the gold-tinted glare that was bouncing off the fireplace. Then she asked Rahman to leave his game of dominoes to examine the living room scene, where the interview was to take place.

"Huh?" Rahman said. "Are you serious? I don't care about no colors or scenery. I just want to fight and go home."

As the interview drew closer, the HBO rep became more and more antsy. Rahman truly didn't seem to care. He casually finished his game of dominoes, politely changed to a gray T-shirt and plopped himself onto the wooden barstool minutes before the taping was to begin.

After getting his earpiece set and his headband centered, Rahman stared into the camera, waiting for his cue to begin.

But Lewis wasn't ready.

"Late again," Rahman said. "What a surprise."

And just like that, the guy who throughout his training has called almost all the shots, was forced to wait for someone else. Don't think it went unnoticed.

"He's just trying to get under my skin," Rahman said. "But he knows what's coming."

Wayne Drehs is a staff writer for ESPN.com. He can be reached at wayne.drehs@espn.com.