Boxing rises and falls on the strength of the heavyweight division, at least in the United States. And we want those heavyweights to be punchers, big hitters with a savage killer instinct.

Oh, we appreciate the skills of a slick boxer like a Paulie Ayala (in his prime) or the all-around skills of a Joel Casamayor. However, those “artists” need to stay south of the 155 pound zone. From the middleweights on up, we want sluggers and brawlers. Give us Bob Foster, not Virgil Hill. We’ll take Rocky Graziano over Paul Pender. Mike Tyson or Chris Byrd? That’s not a question worth asking.

No, when it comes to the Big Boys, when we look at the men who would be king of the heavyweight division, they must meet the standards set by men like Jack Dempsey, Joe Louis, Rocky Marciano, Sonny Liston, Joe Frazier, George Foreman and Mike Tyson. Ali? A brilliant aberration that blazed through the fistic firmament and whose style probably ruined hundreds of potentially good sluggers who decided they wanted to “Float like a butterfly and sting like a bee”, not realizing that there was only one fighter cast in that mold.

The heavyweights. Ask any promoter, any manager, any network that can still pronounce the word ‘boxing’ without heaving to configure their dream fighter and you’ll receive this generic description every time: an intelligent and charismatic heavyweight with a devastating punch, an innate ferocity and a solid chin. Then if you listen closely, you can almost hear the unspoken, politically incorrect final request: “and let him be a white guy!”

Even Don King would silently whisper those last words. It isn’t racist. It isn’t bigotry. It’s money. It’s survival. Personally, my favorite heavyweights of all time, not necessarily in this order, are Ali, Louis, Marciano, and Larry Holmes. See? And I’m a Caucasian.

But if boxing is ever to emerge from it’s third world status and regain some semblance of the sport that was once held the viewing public in thrall, it needs a dominant heavyweight and a strong supporting cast. He doesn’t have to be white (see Mike Tyson, once a fighter who awed us with his power and still a side-show who awes us with his bizarre behavior); but if he was – oh, man, boxing might even become fashionable again!

All of this rhetoric leads us, then, to Joe Mesi. Mesi, currently ranked #4 by the WBC and #8 by both the WBA and IBF, happens to be a power-hitting heavyweight. He’s good looking in a rugged sort of way. He’s educated and well-spoken. He’s humble and a sportsman. And if he’s not careful, Mesi will probably get a shot at a heavyweight crown. And then he’ll break our heart.

Joe Mesi is, by all accounts, a wonderful young man, if you consider 30 a young age in boxing. “Baby Joe” is currently undefeated. He’s 29-0 with 25 knockouts. On paper, it’s an impressive résumé. His first twenty-five bouts were part of a learning process required of all fighters, especially ones who didn’t have an extensive amateur background. Last year, Mesi made the necessary step of moving up in class, and he did so with resounding success.

First he blew out a supposedly tough test in Robert Davis, TKOing Davis in one round of a scheduled 12-rounder and winning the NABF title in the process. Mesi never defended the title and was stripped of the belt five months after he won it for failing to defend against Interim champion, Eliecer Castillo. Mesi opted to fight red-hot DaVarryl Williamson instead, a fellow undefeated heavyweight with a big punch and a growing reputation.

Mesi once again came through, destroying Williamson in under three minutes, knocking him out cold. Hearts began to pound. Could Joe Mesi be the one? Was this unassuming young talent, so popular in his hometown of Buffalo, New York, that they call him the third franchise – just a notch behind the Sabers and Bills – the real deal?

Three months after his stoppage of Williamson, Mesi again took another half-step up the heavyweight learning ladder by signing to fight Monte Barrett. The fight was scheduled to take place in Madison Square Garden. It was to be a kind of coming-out party for Mesi.

Unlike Williamson, however, Barrett was not an unproven fighter with an unbeaten record. Instead, he was a 31-fight veteran who had already been a “young, rising talent.” Barrett had already put his unbeaten streak on the line against Lance Whitaker and come up just short, losing a split-decision to Mount Goofy. Barrett had already mounted a comeback that led to a shot at Wladimir Klitschko, an exciting bout that ended up with Barrett being stopped in seven rounds.

In short, Barrett had already traveled the road on which Mesi was now motoring and was coming off a six-fight winning streak, one that included a majority decision over the same Robert Davis that Mesi had just recently obliterated. For Barrett, the Mesi fight was just as important to him as it was to Baby Joe.

In a see-saw fight in which Mesi knocked down Barrett in the fifth round, only to have Barrett return the favor in the seventh, Mesi eked out a majority decision by scores of 94-93, 95-93 and 94-94.

After the fight, Mesi apologized for his efforts (something he never has to do, because Mesi always gives 100% every round of every fight). Mesi insisted that the difficulty he experienced against Barrett was a valuable learning experience, one that would make him an even better fighter down the road. And in both truth and fairness, Mesi’s assessment made sense. Guys like Barrett, marginally talented with a need to win, are the kind of test that the Mesi’s must pass to both improve and get ahead.

Then came last week’s fight against Vassily Jirov. At first glance, Jirov was a curious choice as an opponent for Mesi, considering that Jirov was not a heavyweight. Jirov, the former IBF Cruiserweight champion, was less than a year removed from his scintillating fight against ageless James Toney, a fight that cost Jirov both his title and his unbeaten record.

Jirov had partially rebounded by stopping two shot fighters, Ernest Mateen and Joe Kiwanuka, failing to look good in the process. Now, Jirov wanted to follow in the footsteps of Roy Jones, Juan Carlos Gomez and Toney and move up to the more lucrative heavyweight division.

From Mesi’s point-of-view, the fight had a lot of plusses with only a few negatives. Jirov was a “name”; he brought with him a sparkling 33-1 record, with 29 knockouts but that was against smaller men than Mesi. Jirov, though two years younger than Mesi, had been through a lot of wars and, judging from Jirov’s lackluster performance in his last two outings, the wear and tear was starting to show.

And who else was there for Mesi to fight? Mike Tyson, David Tua and Fres Oquendo were very dangerous opponents, with the latter being a poor financial draw as well. The Klitshko’s and Corrie Sanders were potential title fights and a year down the road. Dominic Guinn? A great prospect but one who could prove very lucrative in a year or two – the time wasn’t right for a Mesi-Guinn showdown. James Toney? Sidelined with an injury. Lamon Brewster, Jameel McCline, Hasim Rahman, Kirk Johnson, John Ruiz? All were either unmarketable or unavailable.

Even Jirov’s negatives were, in a sense, positive. Jirov boasted a tremendous chin and unbelievable heart. The unstoppable force, Mesi, against the immovable object, Jirov – classic stuff. And although, Jirov’s chin was highly touted, it had never been tested against a heavyweight punch. Furthermore, the reputation had been earned by getting hit, not avoiding punches. Mesi could ask for nothing better than a weak defensive opponent who would stand right in front of him. Jirov was also a southpaw, a rarity in the heavyweight ranks; nevertheless, an analysis of the attacking style of Jirov clearly showed that Jirov gave up the lefty advantage by squaring around every time he came inside to fight – which was almost always.

The fight headlined the card at Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas. For eight rounds, Mesi looked great. His hands looked quicker than the smaller Jirov. Mesi landed heavy shots that had Jirov bleeding and swelling. Jirov looked terrible and only the most generous of judges could have awarded Jirov any of the first eight rounds.

In the ninth, though, Jirov landed a punch to the back of Mesi’s head, and Baby Joe hit the canvas for the second time in two fights. It was hard to tell just how clean a knockdown it was. Mesi seemed off-balance to begin with and the location of the shot made it seem as much as a hard push downward as a knockdown blow.

There were no questions about the two shots that floored Mesi in the tenth and final round, however. A rejuvenated Jirov, found himself back in his element. For eight rounds, Jirov looked sluggish and confused, fighting in an unfamiliar style, boxing rather than doing what he normally did – wage war. Now, with Mesi clearly hurt and tired, Jirov poured it on and crisp, snapping punches earned the former cruiserweight champ, two more knockdowns.

To Mesi’s credit, he gamely rose both times in the tenth and hung on until the final bell. Mesi’s early and well-deserved lead turned out to be his salvation. In spite of losing the last two rounds, 10-8 and 10-7, Mesi escaped with a unanimous decision by scores of 94-93 on all three judges’ cards.

Recently, a report out of the Mesi camp indicated that the knockdown Mesi suffered in the 9th against Jirov (the blow to the back of the head) resulted in a concussion. Mesi fought with the injury through the last three minutes of the bout. That would certainly explain the two knockdowns in the tenth.

Nobody who knows anything about boxing would question the courage of Joe Mesi. He’s a gutsy fighter with a legitimate punch. Mesi’s hands are just a wee bit quicker than most observers thought. He’s a great interview, a wonderful young man – everything that you could ask for in a heavyweight fighter, especially now, at a time where Joe Mesi could literally save boxing.

Except for one thing: the chin. Sure, he made it through twenty-seven fights before suffering his first knockdown. Yes, the knockdown against Barrett was the result of carelessness, fatigue and lack of balance. Sure, the first knockdown against Jirov could be explained away by the location of the punch to the back of the head. And, as mentioned, fighting with a concussion isn’t conducive to remaining on one’s feet. Furthermore, Mesi valiantly rose each time and attempted to fight back.

But there’s something about the way Mesi hits the canvas. The circuits short out. Mesi comes back out of instinct (which isn’t to be overlooked) but without clarity. He regains his feet because of heart but fails to recuperate. Marciano went down, Ali went down, Louis went down – but when they regained their feet, they fought back with a skill and ferocity that seemed fuled by the embarrassment of being on the canvas. Mesi fights back because he doesn’t know what else to do.

Joe Mesi remains undefeated; he’s still a heavyweight and he’s still white. But I don’t think that’s going to be enough. I like Joe Mesi. I like what he represents and I greatly admire his courage and commitment. But I know that Joe Mesi is going to break my heart. He doesn’t have the overall skills to make up for his weaknesses.

Earnie Shavers got knocked down but Shavers was also one of the hardest hitters in the history of the division. Ali hit the canvas but he could dance, clinch or clown his way out of danger and then respond with a barrage of punches. Do you get the feeling, when watching Mesi, that he is always just one punch away from winning a fight, even when hurt? Do you have confidence that, even in the future, Mesi can snatch a victory with ring smarts and skills? No, huh? Just as I thought.

No, Joe Mesi isn’t Ali, Holmes, Louis or Marciano. Truthfully, he’s not even Ken Norton, Gerry Cooney, or Jerry Quarry. But Joe Mesi is a credit to boxing. He has nothing to be ashamed of and he makes the sport better with his very presence. That’s more than enough for a fighter; it just falls short of what’s necessary to be a champion.