The crowd for Brian Viloria's World Boxing Council light-flyweight championship bout at the Orleans Arena in Las Vegas was announced at 3,750.

It turns out they missed one prominent spectator in the count: Viloria.

For all intents and purposes, the Waipahu fighter was more a bystander than combatant at this championship loss to Omar Nino Thursday. A mere onlooker to his own head-shaking defeat by 12-round unanimous decision. A seemingly disinterested one at that.

Whatever the once-unbeaten Viloria was there to do before the television cameras that night, it was hard to imagine the overriding priority was to bring his title belt back to Hawai'i.

"I honestly don't feel he was beaten by a better man," manager Gary Gittelsohn said yesterday. "I think that Brian simply walked into the ring and handed his belt away."

It wasn't just that Viloria never put together combinations and rarely bothered to flick a jab. The perception was that he felt no urgency to do any of them. Even when it became obvious that he was trailing and trailing badly in a fight that he would lose by six rounds on two judges' cards, his pace hardly picked up. His punches never sizzled and his motor never went into overdrive.

You could see his corner imploring him to turn it on and take out his opponent. You could sense the immediacy of their message. And the growing frustration of an inability to get it across. Yet, even entering the final round Viloria displayed an early-round nonchalance.

The passion that accompanied Viloria for the first 19 bouts — all victories — of his professional career evaporated after the first couple of rounds. If it wasn't left in the dressing room, hotel or gym altogether.

Maybe after an unbeaten start Viloria felt he could pull a victory out of thin air when the mood struck him. But it never seemed to. And this time his inability to rock or even impress Nino early emboldened the challenger.

The longer the recently unemployed print shop worker from Guadalajara, Mexico hung with the former Olympian, the more his confidence grew. At first, Nino hardly seemed able to fathom his growing opportunity. Then, as the combination of his hunger and assurance grew, there was no stopping him.

"I heard he was a hard hitter, but I felt his power early and he never hurt me," Nino said afterward. "That's when I knew I had him."

Indeed, Viloria lost more than a championship with his first loss. He lost an aura and box office of a champion as well.

After five painstaking years of working his way to the title, Viloria steps back in line. That may take a year or two. But you wonder how long it will take to recapture the sense of invincibility that disappeared from under his nose?

Reach Ferd Lewis at flewis@honoluluadvertiser.com or 525-8044.