It may seem incredible to you, but there was a time when it was a widespread belief among boxing experts that overly large heavyweights were unfit to excel and destined to be defeated against elite opponents of smaller stature. Roberto Fazi, a historical journalist in the field who witnessed countless world titles live and authored numerous publications on boxing, even made it an anthropological issue, attributing to the “giants” of boxing, among other flaws, a lack of courage and determination. Here is a brief excerpt from an article by Fazi published in the Italian magazine “Boxe Ring” in the late 1980s:
“Previous instances tell us that it is extremely difficult for a giant, a man over two meters tall, to be as perfect as a boxing champion needs to be, to have that particular quickness, that muscle elasticity, that arm speed, that leg agility, those absorption abilities, that essential courage, that lightning reflex. […] In our opinion, a giant always lacks one or more of the aforementioned qualities: almost always they do not possess adequate mobility, nor sufficient agility, or the necessary determination, and we could continue with absorption abilities, etc.”
Fazi, as recent history has shown, was wrong. He, like many of his contemporaries, was influenced by the fact that at that time, the average height of the population was significantly lower than it is today, and since “giants” were extremely rare, and even rarer were those who chose a boxing career, there was a very low probability that an extra-large height and weight superstar would emerge. Paradoxically, however, the evolution of human measurements, with its impact on boxing and the heavyweight category in particular, has led many enthusiasts and quite a few insiders to fall into the opposite error, developing a concept antithetical to Fazi’s but equally radical and equally wrong. The myth has spread that a heavyweight of 250 or 260 pounds has an enormous, practically insurmountable advantage over an opponent of 220 pounds of equal level. An advantage so large that it would make the fight unfair, to the point of suggesting the need to establish a new weight division so that the colossuses can only fight among themselves.
This unhealthy philosophy was precisely used as justification by the WBC for the introduction of the “Bridgerweight” division, with a weight limit of 224 pounds. A glaringly contradictory decision considering that Deontay Wilder, who held the WBC heavyweight world title from 2015 to 2020, with ten victorious defenses, recorded a weight lower than that mentioned on six out of ten occasions. The futility of the new weight class is easily understood also by looking at the names populating the current Bridgerweight ranking: boxers who, due to a lack of quality, fail to excel in the cruiser and heavyweight categories and seek to gain some glory where there is less competition and less talent.
However, if it’s easy to understand the motive of WBC president Mauricio Sulaiman, driven by purely economic motivations and eager to place his federation’s label under more titled challenges, it is shocking that many insiders have fallen into the trap to the point of completely missing the predictive analysis of the recent memorable heavyweight unification fight between Oleksandr Usyk and Tyson Fury. For example, Italian DAZN commentator Niccolò Pavesi let slip during the first rounds of the fight a very emblematic statement: “There are four weight divisions between the two boxers.” A phrase meant to imply a blatant imbalance in the starting conditions, almost as if an unarmed man and another with a rifle were facing off. Pavesi, however, was in good company, considering that former light heavyweight and heavyweight world champion Michael Moorer presented the big fight as a true mismatch, predictable in outcome and sportingly unfair due to the excessive size difference between the two contenders.
Predictions and analyses that were torn apart by factual reality: in the ring, contrary to the expectations of many, Tyson Fury’s extra pounds did not play in his favor. They did not in terms of power and endurance, as Usyk’s punches produced much more significant damage compared to his opponent’s, and they did not even in the clinch, as the Ukrainian, in the rare circumstances when he was “captured” by the rival’s long arms, freed himself without suffering any consequences. It can instead be calmly stated that the weight gap had, as paradoxical as it may seem to some, a favorable impact on the lighter boxer. Forced to carry his 262 pounds in the ring, Fury, after moving extremely quickly for six and a half rounds and maintaining a very high workrate to prevent the opponent from closing the distance, became progressively more static, less explosive, and less reactive, while Usyk simultaneously increased his pace and intensity, managing to turn the tide of the battle.
The lesson to be learned is quite simple: beyond 220 pounds of weight, any differences in mass, do not guarantee automatic advantages and disadvantages. Of course, in some characteristics the “giants” will have, on average, something more, but on the other hand, they will pay for these benefits with the decline of other qualities, from agility to execution speed, footwork, and stamina. In a challenge between a 220-pounds boxer and a 260-pounds one, assuming a similar technical level between the two, the winner will be the one who can best exploit the strengths of his physique while hiding or making irrelevant the weaknesses: no mismatch and certainly no “category difference.”
Incredibly, not everyone has learned the lesson despite what happened in Riyadh. In recent days, bizarre analyses have been appearing, suggesting that Tyson Fury should have shown up even heavier, conducted an offensive match, and tried to crush Usyk against the ropes. A suicidal strategy that would have led the Gypsy King to be peppered with punches from all angles and to run out of gas within a few rounds, then remaining literally at the mercy of the Ukrainian boxer.
In conclusion, it is appropriate to observe that the proven failure of theories about the indisputable superiority of “super heavyweights” has significant implications, not only on the analysis of the present time but also on the correct interpretation of boxing history. If Michael Moorer had been right in judging the physical gap between the athletes involved in Riyadh as insurmountable, it would have led to a fascinating logical consequence. Given that Oleksandr Usyk has weight and anthropometric measurements perfectly analogous to legendary champions like Muhammad Ali and George Foreman, his supposed impossibility of competing with the Gypsy King, if true, would have made Tyson Fury the greatest heavyweight of all time. This is not the case, and today we can finally say with reason that those who belittled the chances of the great heavyweights of the past to beat the giants of the modern era due to the size deficit were grossly mistaken.
Great article! Indeed, Usyk’s victory over Fury has proven that “bigger is not always better” in heavyweight boxing.
Thanks Michael!
Finally a correct point of view on this matter: it’s incredible the amount of people who see “four categories of difference” (to quote a phrase heard on Italian commentary) but then would predict Fury losing by knockout to every “Jerry Quarry” of the 70s. It’s incredible that they don’t realize the obvious contradiction. However, I must point out that the division into categories is a statistical question, and after decades of division between some cruisers and the “true” heavyweights, a little more material is needed to demonstrate the futility of the division at 200 pounds. From this point of view, unfortunately Briedis and Gassiev for different reasons did not provide us with many insights.
But history certainly already demonstrates this in a more than exhaustive way.