Comparing Hopkins with history

— -- "Old age comes on suddenly, and not gradually as is thought." -- Emily Dickinson

The boxer moved on leaden legs, the bald spot on top of his head clearly visible from the upper reaches of Madison Square Garden. Fighting more from memory than motivation, he held off his swarming assailant for seven rounds. But no man can hold back the hands of time indefinitely. Not even a living legend.

And when a haymaker sent him sprawling through the ropes and onto the ring apron in the eighth, it was only the helping hands of the ringside media that stopped him from falling completely out of the ring. He came to rest on his back, with his right leg resting on the bottom strand, arms outstretched over his head and mouth agape, looking eerily like a fallen soldier in a Matthew Brady photograph.

It was not, however, a musket ball that put him down for the count. It was a blockbuster of a right hand delivered by Rocky Marciano that did the deed -- the Sunday punch he called his "Suzie Q." There was no count. The referee gently helped the stricken fighter back inside the ring, as men wearing white sweaters with "JOE LOUIS" written on the back rushed to his aid.

Louis' knockout loss in the final bout of his career almost felt like a death in the family, and Marciano, like so many others on the night of October 26, 1951, cried unashamedly for the old champ who had meant so much to so many for so long.

It's unlikely that such a heartfelt outpouring of grief will be forthcoming if Bernard Hopkins meets a similar fate this Saturday when he faces undefeated knockout artist Sergey Kovalev in their light heavyweight title unification bout. Louis was beloved; Hopkins is not. But should boxing's contemporary Methuselah come a cropper at the hands of the Russian, even his critics would have to admit it's the end of one of the most extraordinary sagas in the annals of the sport.

Louis was 37 when he lost to Marciano, which was considered ancient for a fighter in the 1950s. Hopkins will be less than two months shy of 50 when he steps into the ring at Atlantic City's Boardwalk Hall to face Kovalev, an astonishing age at which a boxer would try to compete at a world-class level regardless of the era in which he fought. In fact, it has never been done before.

The average life expectancy for a male living in the United States in 1951 was 65.8 years, while today it's 78.8. This is something worth keeping in mind when comparing Hopkins to other famous fighters who fought successfully at an advanced age. But in cases such as, this numbers alone can be deceiving. Context is everything.

While there are plenty of fans who think his style is excruciatingly boring and hope Kovalev ends his career in no uncertain manner, even the haters have to begrudgingly respect Hopkins' hard-won accomplishments.

There are also a growing number of fans who have been won over by the grizzled boxing genius who has prospered in a realm that had previously been considered beyond any boxer's reach. Unless I miss my guess, there will be as many cheers as boos for the ageless maverick on Saturday night.

If he wins, Hopkins will buttress his position as the foremost proponent of prolonging the inevitable to ever pull on a pair of boxing gloves. And if he loses, there might even be a tear or two shed. For who among us wouldn't want to taste the illusion of immortality he has savored for so long?