Lewis Is Champ, but Excitement Missing

The new champ didn’t crack any hilarious jokes last week. Nor did he recite catchy poetry, talk much smack or sing any songs. There was no entourage around, nor Don King. He wore no gaudy jewelry, no Versace either, and while his hair was in braids, they were neatly tucked in a ponytail.

Lennox Lewis gave no reason to love or loathe him. Basically, he came to town and did nothing to make anyone notice him.

His chat to promote HBO’s upcoming replay of last Saturday’s fight was not a performance. He heard questions, he gave answers. It was very simple and plain, just like the man and the boxer.

In almost any other era, Lewis would be a refreshing change from the norm, a fighter who goes about his business and leaves his image to his fists. Except these aren’t ordinary days for the sport. These are desperate times.

Boxing, especially the heavyweight division, needs a champ with a dynamic personality and style both in and out of the ring, a champ with enough charm to sell tickets, and most importantly, someone with more pull than Mike Tyson. Boxing needs Viagra, not Sominex.

Instead, the undisputed heavyweight champ is Pete Sampras.

If Lewis were running for president, he’d be Bill Bradley, a nice enough guy who seems qualified for the job yet doesn’t exactly quicken the pulse. Lewis, 34, fought courageously against Evander Holyfield, whom he beat twice, which officially counted as once, and therefore deserves all the spoils coming his way. Nobody should have any problem with that. Even being a British champ in an American sport doesn’t bother me.

It’s just that boxing could use so much more than Lewis can offer. The man holding the most glamorous title in the game is helpless to save it. He can’t stir it, revitalize it, or be a dazzling part of it. All Lewis can do for boxing is try like hell to keep Tyson from taking back the belts.

The problem, therefore, lies more with the state of the sport than it does with Lewis. He’s about the best there is, and that’s sad. There are twice as many boxing organizations as heavyweight contenders, and nobody except Tyson who can draw. The field may be the weakest and most anonymous in decades, maybe ever.

“They’re all about even,” conceded Lewis. “Maybe a couple stand out. In everybody’s mind, everybody’s a challenger. But I would think that there’s only a few.”

Next up for Lewis could be Michael Grant, no relation to Horace or Harvey. Grant is one of those fighters made for ESPN. He wouldn’t make you subscribe to HBO to see him, much less spend 50 bucks on pay-per-view. Even Lewis couldn’t sell anyone on Grant Wednesday.

“He’s big,’ Lewis said with a shrug. “He’s up and coming. He hasn’t been through what I’ve been through, though.’

If not Grant, then maybe Andrew Golota, the fighter who makes opponents reach for their groin, lest they reach a high note. But Lewis destroyed Golota in the first round of their 1997 fight. Shannon Briggs doesn’t have a solid body of work as a serious threat. Holyfield could be persuaded to keep going at age 37, except it might be a waste of time, because Lewis gives him as much trouble as he gave Tyson.

Oh, yes. Tyson.

He just won’t go away. He’s hardly the puncher he once was, nor is he feared, and yet he remains marketable because of a lame group of pretenders chasing the belts. People will pay just to see what Tyson does to turn the night into a disaster. People will put money on Tyson before Briggs or Golota or Henry Akinwande.

That’s why--surprise, surprise--Lewis said he wants Tyson.

“It’s the one fight I want,” he said. “That’s the most exciting fight out there now. He’s a boxer of my era whom I think everybody would want to see us fight. They want to know, is Tyson still the man he used to be?”

Lewis then answered his own question.

“He had the right moves before the trials and tribulations took over, which made him kind of weaker, you know? I think I’m a superior boxer. And I don’t really have that much problem fighting smaller people.”

There is one wild card in the bunch. Roy Jones Jr. is a man without a rival, a champ among many chumps and, unfortunately for boxing, a middleweight trying to be a heavyweight.

That’s how shoddy the division is. It needs help from below.

“I think he’s giving up a lot,” Lewis said. “He’s not used to being a heavyweight. We hit much harder. It’s not going to be easy.”

Nothing comes easy for boxing. Lewis even had a struggle just to get his belt from the IBF, which hesitated after a fee dispute. But midway through his news conference yesterday, an IBF representative arrived with a briefcase. Lewis opened it, pulled out the package inside, and placed it next to the three other belts spread over a small table.

Finally, boxing has unity.

“There should always be one heavyweight champion,” Lewis said.

Boxing also has a noble heavyweight to call champ.

“I’m just basically myself,” said Lewis, “and myself isn’t such a bad fellow.”

But boxing is still lacking in the area of its greatest need: It just isn’t compelling anymore.