By Lyle Fitzsimmons
People of a certain age or journalistic intent will grasp a good “Dewey Defeats Truman” reference.
For the uninitiated, it stems from the wording of a front-page banner headline in the Chicago Daily Tribune on Nov. 3, 1948, which referred – incorrectly – to the results of an election that pitted incumbent president Harry Truman against New York governor Thomas E. Dewey.
The paper had an early deadline for its non-local editions, which meant those versions were printed and shipped before polls had closed. Conventional wisdom was that Dewey would win handily, so editors went ahead with the headline and gambled they wouldn’t be remembered for a historical blunder.
Those of you who’ve seen the photo of a beaming Truman know how the gamble turned out.
The image has been go-to lesson material in journalism schools for subsequent generations, reminding us writer/editor types of the perils of trying to get too far ahead of deadlines by putting pieces together before the events being written about have actually occurred.
Truth told, it doesn’t do a whole lot of good.
No matter their locations or affiliations, writers covering the NFL, NBA, NHL or any other organized athletic activities will inevitably construct the framework of their articles and columns – if not the entire piece from start to finish – long before the final whistle, buzzer or horn.
And yes, Virginia, it happens at ringside and beyond, too.
Particularly when Fighter A is a significant favorite over Fighter B.
Such was the case on Saturday afternoon (U.S. time) in Dusseldorf, when a guy who hadn’t lost in 11 years was all but a consensus selection (75 percent among participating BoxingScene.com staffers) to prolong the streak against a guy who’d made a lot of noise away from the ring, but whose amplitude inside it seemed muted by comparison.
I’ll concede, I thought Wladimir Klitschko would win easily.
So, armed with that “knowledge,” I prepped myself for the aftermath by assembling a column a few hours before Michael Buffer grabbed the mic. And once “Dr. Steelhammer” finished his work, I figured, I’d plug in the particulars, give it a quick proofread and get a head start on my Sunday tailgating.
It was a great plan. Right up until it wasn’t.
The error of my ways began dawning on me about four rounds in, and I began to fully grasp what was unfolding after Round 6, when I went to the fridge for a drink, looked over at my wife and said gloomily, “Halfway through, and he’s getting whipped.”
I returned to my viewing station and silently hoped for a quick turnaround, but the more Fury shucked and jived like a 6-foot-9 (ish) Michael Spinks – and the more Klitschko began to resemble a late 1985 Larry Holmes – the more I realized my entire premise was going up in northwest German smoke.
But dammit, even though it’s silly now, I still think it was a pretty good premise.
And if you can envision how you’d have felt had ol’ Wlad either stopped Fury in a few rounds -- or dominated him for the majority of 12 -- keep that vibe going as you check out what you would have been reading in this Tuesday space had it actually occurred.
And if you can’t, well… at least keep it clean in the comments.
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Some folks out there are surely thinking it. But we'll go ahead and say it.
Wladimir Klitschko is the most physically daunting heavyweight champion who's ever lived.
And when you blend athletic ability with a 78-inch, 245-pound frame, it's hard to imagine any non-relative who's ever appeared in boxing's marquee division stepping into a 20 x 20 square and having their way with him.
Oh sure, we know he's lost fights. Ross Puritty and Lamon Brewster hung around until his gas tank ran dry, and Corrie Sanders cold-cocked him with the sorts of shots that doomed 31 of 42 pro victims.
But the most recent of those misfires happened 11 years ago -- when Brett Favre had still never left Green Bay, LeBron James had still never left Cleveland and Donald Trump was still identifying himself as more a Democratic blowhard than a Republican.
In other words, it's been awhile.
And the version of Klitschko who's been on patrol since vaporizing Chris Byrd in 2006 has been every bit as close to unbeatable as Mike Tyson, Lennox Lewis or Sonny Liston – each of whom also lost multiple fights to significant underdogs before the final bell—ever dreamed of being.
He's now dismissed 18 challengers across 19 title defenses in nine years, and has gotten himself to a point where if an opponent wins one round for every three he loses, it's somehow an indication of vulnerability.
It's logic-bereft nonsense, like suggesting 42-14 on a football field wouldn't pass one-sided muster.
And the closer Klitschko is compared to those who came before, the clearer that is to see.
Of the four men typically deemed worthy of the division's Mount Rushmore – Joe Louis, Rocky Marciano, Muhammad Ali and Larry Holmes – only Ali and Holmes would be within four inches and 35 pounds of the mammoth Ukrainian, while Louis and Marciano, on their title-winning nights, were closer in weight to Canelo Alvarez.
Size doesn't always matter. But when it comes to the biggest men, it helps.
Upon realizing the heaviest top-shelf opponent either one ever fought was cruiserweight-sized Joe Walcott, it's easy to imagine both Louis and Marciano bouncing off the canvas like Joe Frazier in Jamaica when being by a guy outweighing them by 48 and 60 pounds, respectively.
Meanwhile, with Ali and Holmes, it's no less simple to envision the same bigger man controlling space with jabs from tree-limb-like 17-inch forearms, while the supremely talented smaller men struggle to stand ground on a consistent basis.
Klitschko, by the way, is three inches taller and 25 pounds heavier than "Big" George Foreman was the night he fought Ali in 1974, and he's light years more skilled by every measure than the biggest challenge Holmes ever encountered as champion – a 6-foot-5, 225-pound Gerry Cooney – in 1982.
All things equal, does that mean Klitschko beats a similarly-sized version of every past kingpin?
Hardly.
He's not as elegant as The Greatest, not as rugged as the Real Deal and not as excellent all-around as the Easton Assassin. Put them in all in equally equipped race cars and Dr. Steelhammer qualifies somewhere other than the pole position in a race for history's top spot.
But when you consider the horsepower that being gigantic and capable brings – and you're interested in something more than esoteric resonance – there's no one else to be riding with when the light goes green. Because when it comes to the biggest men, he's the best there's ever been.
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This week’s title-fight schedule:
SATURDAY
IBO super bantamweight title -- Windhoek, Namibia
Paulus Ambunda (champion/No. 29 IWBR) vs. Jason Cooper (No. 34 IBO/No. 55 IWBR)
Ambunda (23-1, 10 KO): First title defense; Held WBO title at 118 (2013 zero defenses)
Cooper (14-2-1, 7 KO): First title fight; Second fight outside Australia (0-1, 0 KO)
Fitzbitz says: Though the weekend provided a lesson about having blind faith in 30-something champions facing guys who appear at least a rung beneath them, I'll take my chances and press forward with the incumbent. Ambunda by decision
Last week’s picks: 5-2 (WIN: DeGale, Charlo, Lara, Menayothin, Cuadras; LOSE: Fury, Kimura)
2015 picks record: 83-24 (77.5 percent)
Overall picks record: 722-247 (74.5 percent)
NOTE: Fights previewed are only those involving a sanctioning body's full-fledged title-holder – no interim, diamond, silver, etc. Fights for WBA "world championships" are only included if no "super champion" exists in the weight class.
Lyle Fitzsimmons has covered professional boxing since 1995 and written a weekly column for Boxing Scene since 2008. He is a full voting member of the Boxing Writers Association of America. Reach him at fitzbitz@msn.com or follow him on Twitter – @fitzbitz.
