08.04.04 – By Lee Hayes – Their names: Chris Byrd, Vitali Klitchko, John Ruiz. None of these men invoke the royal mysticism a heavyweight champion is meant to. Sure Byrd can box; his defensive moves are probably somewhere near the top of all time heavyweights and his slick skill cannot be denied credit. But there is nothing regal about him. Vitali Klitchko can punch. That’s for sure. But there is something about him that seems very vulnerable. There is no aura of invincibility. Possibly, it is because of the images of him quitting on his stool against Byrd in a fight he was handily winning, the same damaging image that ruined Sonny Liston when he fought Clay decades ago. Maybe it is because he seems very susceptible to deep cuts around his eyes. Or perhaps it is because he seems unable to control his emotions in a game where that can be damning. He does not instill confidence that he is a man that can reign for years to come in the division. John Ruiz is an effective fighter, but he is barely a household name in his own household, let alone the millions of people worldwide.
There was a time, not so long ago, when the heavyweight champion really meant something. Everybody knew who the champ was and knew he was somebody to envy. It signified that he was by far the most physically superior man in the world. In many ways he was a king amongst mere mortals. John L. Sullivan was a “mans man” and by all first hand accounts was a larger than life character.
Everybody across the USA knew who Jack Johnson was and followed his every move through daily news. He often made front pages. When was the last time you saw the heavyweight champion on the front page of a main stream newspaper? Perhaps it was when Mike Tyson was convicted of rape.
Jack Dempsey was a symbol of the roaring twenties, a time when America was a crossroads between pioneer simplicity and an obsession with speed and power that came along with technological advancements. Dempsey exemplified speed and power, thus captivating the people all across the land. He was a matinee idol that mingled freely with Hollywood’s elite.
Joe Louis simply represented the battle between democracy and socialist dictatorships. He single handedly raised the moral of every black man in America. Not only that, he raised the pride of Americans of all skin color and nationality and was a noble war hero.
The last true heavyweight king was Muhammad Ali, a man who transcended boxing and, in all honesty, sports, by moving nations of people. Anyone, who has ever had the pleasure of meeting Muhammad in person, as I have, can tell you there is a majestic quality about him, a certain “je ne sais quoi” as the French would say. It’s something that you can’t quite place, an aura of invincibility that a heavyweight champion is supposed to have. All these men had qualities that were larger than life. You could not sit in a room full of people without noticing them.
Larry Holmes was a masterful boxer, but his lack of charisma made him easy to hate and difficult to love, despite his exceptional skills and accomplishments.
Mike Tyson grabbed the public attention like the kings of the past and by all means showed the kind of superiority that defines heavyweight champions. An argument can be made that Michael Gerard Tyson was the last man to truly hold the throne. Perhaps during his prime he could have been, but Iron Mike is a career thug, who has been revealed to be monumentally flawed. He suffers from enough mental issues to make him too vulnerable to qualify.
Evander Holyfield is a true warrior. A fighter with a heart the size of an elephant’s, but he never captured the public’s imagination. He was a terrific fighter that gave everything he had. Still, he was missing that mysticism, that quality that made many champions of the past more than just boxers.
Lennox Lewis had the look of an Emperor. A man amongst boys, but Lennox was flawed because he didn’t always take his opponents as seriously as he should have. These were lessons that champions of the past learned early on in their careers and never needed to be reminded. Sure they all had the ego of Lewis, and sometimes genuine disdain for their opponents, but they didn’t react to it by coming in 30lbs over weight. They didn’t end their championship fights on their rear ends because they simply didn’t train properly. He was a good champion and a class act, but he hardly captivated minds of fans and public alike. He even lacked popularity until very late in his distinguished career.
This writer can only hope that a man will arise from out of no where, to take his seat on the throne and return the significance of sport’s greatest title to it’s proper place. Personally, I do not care if he comes from the United States, the United Kingdom, Croatia, Africa or Timbuktu. It will only take one man, a man that makes all others pale in his comparison, a man that can restore the heavyweight championship to its proper acclaim. This writer has to believe it will happen, because he loves this sport too much to surrender hope and he misses the day when heavyweight champions were kings. Until that day comes, we will all have to enjoy the men that consume his place for what they are. A bunch of substitute teachers.
I welcome your thoughts and comments.