For almost the entire 20th century, the heavyweight champion hailed from somewhere in the United States. It is an ethnic sports anomaly. For 107 years, a country outside of America held the title for only 7 years. It was an iconic symbol of American culture and for some generations a national treasure. Still, like family heirlooms and pawn shops, whenever an object no longer provides meaning to its owner or loses its intrinsic value. All that is left is luster and shine. Sad as it may seem, but when the sparkle fades, the item is often discarded. At times-even freely.
Americans did not invent the sport where they would have had a head start on exposure. No, modern day prize fighting evolved from an Olympic sport across the European country side. It just seemed as if the boxing gods were pleased and blessed the American fighter year after year. When one champion retired or succumbed to defeat. There was always the next in line, ready to claim his right to the throne.
Like my father and his before, the thought of some other country holding the belt for a significant period of time was laughable. While tales of legendary nights in the ring may have fueled the confidence of my predecessors, video games would affirm mine.
For a boxing video game in the eighties or nineties, the standard plot would have the player travel all around the world. Only to prove worthiness, to fight the champion back in America. The Russian boxer may have an alcohol problem, a fighter from Germany would have a mustache, and thanks to Indiana Jones any fighter from the Middle East had some magical powers. Hard to believe now, but back then it was the norm.
Regardless of what order they were presented to the player, they were always inferior. To think when Great Britians Lennox Lewis reached across the Atlantic and grabbed the title. Europe would hold onto something so engrained as a truth to an American fighter for nearly two decades, at the time was unimaginable.
At first reception, the heavyweight championship meant to America that an emerging world power belonged. That if shit hit the fan and everyone was left to their two hands. America could survive. It was the heavyweight title that first broke the color barrier when the Galveston Giant Jack Johnson defeated Tommy Burns. Thirty years later it would serve as a catalyst to refute narrow minded views, when American Joe Louis defeated German Max Schmeling in the midst of WW2.
The sixties held Cassius Clay, who changed his name and used the title as a platform to promote the freedom of religious beliefs. His life as Muhammad Ali on humanitarian and peace efforts have since garnered him global recognition.
But then, something changed.
Maybe it was the intoxicating level of confidence that comes from an 80 year reign as king of the ring or the blind eye turned to the retrospective obvious, but by the time Holmes bludgeoned Ali, any internal or emotional value tied to the Heavyweight Championship was near gone. To America it no longer stood for self reliance, racial equality, or the God given right to practice ones individual faith. It was simply entertainment. No longer was the fighter considered, only the end prize. This loss of intrinsic value allowed the exploitation and abuse of a phenomenal 18 year old boxer, whose career could have been one for the ages, yet will always be remembered more for cannibalism than ring prowess.
Evander Holyfield tried to refurbish the crown but by the time he completely earned the title from Mike Tyson even the luster and shine was irreparable. The same powers that once heralded the Heavyweight Champion as an American hero now considered him a savage in a brutal exhibition not worthy to be called a sport. And like family heirlooms and pawn shops, the Americans freely gave Europe a national treasure with the same rationalization for guilt as anyone does when giving up something they can no longer care for. America just wanted it to go to a place where it would be appreciated.
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