With a Presidential election on the horizon, barely a day goes by in the United States without a political commentator talking about securing borders or rounding up illegal aliens. Mexicans, the main target for such debate, can get a tough time, but it shows something for the high regard in which Ricky Hatton is held that he regularly gets told that he boxes like a Mexican. In this sport, there is no greater honour.

Mexicans box with fearlessness, a blend of machismo and intense desire. In a world of soft, overpaid athletes, these are boxers fighting for their future, battling out of poverty, heroes to their countrymen. Often they have endured hardship to get their chance in the ring; boxing is the easy bit. Hatton is known as the Manchester Mexican, but on Saturday he will face a real one — José Luis Castillo.

Mexicans in Las Vegas seldom hold down jobs in the public eye at the top casinos. They carry bags, clean rooms, clear tables and man the Strip handing out cards and leaflets promising lonely men all types of companionship.

But Vegas has become Mexico’s boxing capital. Hatton may believe that this is his town, but he has boxed here once; Castillo, his opponent on Saturday night, has appeared here ten times. This is where Julio César Chávez boxed; this is where Marco Antonio Barrera faced Erik Morales; this is where Salvador Sánchez, possibly the finest Mexican boxer of all, had his greatest win before he was killed in a car crash, aged 23.

“The biggest boxing fan base is the Mexicans and Hispanics, so if I can perform the way I expect to against Castillo, I hope I can get a few of his fans, too,” Hatton said. “Everybody has called me the Manchester Mexican for years. It just seems fitting that I should bring it to the forefront fighting a Mexican legend. When I first started coming to Las Vegas to watch fights a few years ago, it was the Mexicans who were first to recognise me.”

The Mexican tag means a lot to Hatton, 28, who even for one bout replaced his traditional “S*** Shirt” party, with a “S*** ’tache” party, although rather than make him look tough, the moustache, combined with sunglasses and baseball cap, made him look more like an extra from CHiPs, the old cop show.

“My dad went mad, saying I was concentrating more on growing that than the fight,” Hatton said. “I looked a right clown, so I shaved it off, though everyone turned up to the party, apart from me, with these massive ’taches.”

Accompanying Hatton on the walk to the ring at the Thomas & Mack Centre on Saturday night will be Barrera, carrying out an honour Hatton has performed for the Mexican three-weight world champion’s past few bouts. Barrera did not have a problem backing Hatton against his countryman. “I asked him if he was OK with it and he just said, ‘You are my brother, Castillo is not,’ ” Hatton said.

The need to put on a crowd-pleasing display worries Billy Graham, Hatton’s trainer, but he knows that it is an essential part of his make-up. “If he ever went home and the crowd are disappointed, it would destroy him,” Graham said. “He cares about the fans and so do I, but I don’t want him getting too reckless. He has no reason to be critical of his past two performances [against Luis Collazo and Juan Urango], there were reasons for them.

“Collazo was a real talented southpaw and Ricky was fighting above his weight division. The Urango fight he had a virus. Other fighters get revered for winning in that condition — he’s been slated for it.”

Hatton was the first of Saturday’s combatants to open a training session to the media, wowing the American press with a venomous assault on Graham, who had only two hand pads and a huge body bag to protect him, grunting and screaming in a way that would put Maria Sharapova, the vocal tennis player, to shame. Hatton finished his onslaught with a pointed “f*** you” at his physically underfire trainer. He means business.

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