Wladimir Klitschko vs Tyson Fury: Ukrainian champion still motivated by mystery defeat to Lamon Brewster

Early in his career Big Wlad lost brutal and suspicious fight to Lamon Brewster that could have ruined him. He still watches it and will do so to prepare for Tyson Fury duel. Steve Bunce reports.

Wladimir Klitschko (right) trains in Düsseldorf ahead of his world title fight with Tyson Fury (EPA)

Long before the winning streak, the elevation to fighting statesman and the acquisition of riches, two horrible defeats in just 13 months left the career of Wladimir Klitschko in boxing’s bloody toilet.

Klitschko has not lost a fight since 2004, winning 22, including 16 by stoppage, and 19 have been world title fights. But in April of 2004 he was left face down, shaking and ruined before being delivered, still confused, to a Las Vegas hospital. It was, trust me, the end.

“I was told I had no chin, no stamina, no heart,” said Klitschko. “I was told it was over, my world title days were gone. I had no answers for what happened in the ring and I still have no answers for what happened.”

Klitschko had been fighting for the vacant WBO heavyweight title against a nice guy from Los Angeles called Lamon Brewster at the Mandalay Bay in the fighting city. Brewster had lost twice, had no deep secrets and for four rounds was behind, dropped and hurt by Klitschko, who was working with Emmanuel Steward for the first time. Steward had come in to salvage the often reckless Klitschko from his own stupidity after a brutal knockout loss the previous year.

In round five Klitschko’s body started to contort, his power deserted him, he wobbled, rocked and reeled and fell over with just 30 seconds left before the bell. He looked finished as he regained his feet, stumbled some more, took too many punches and on the bell went down face first. It was over, his face deep in the soiled canvas, there was bedlam in the ring and Steward, the game’s guru, just stood shaking his head. Steward, it should be said, was in no hurry to collect his new fighter from the heap he formed in the centre of the ring.

“That is the fight I watch all the time,” admitted Klitschko. “It is the fight that I need to be reminded of, the fight that I still can’t explain and the fight that motivates me. People forget about that fight, forget what I was told and forget how far I have had to come back. Not me, I never forget.”

It seems that Tyson Fury has forgotten that Klitschko knows what it is like to lose, to be hurt, to be stunned and to try to survive on instinct. Fury fights Klitschko tomorrow for the heavyweight world title – the belts really are an annoying irrelevance – and has done his best to rattle the champion. The insults have been mostly unpleasant and unnecessary. Fury should have tried a disarming charm offensive from the start and avoided the weary sexual slurs.

On the canvas after being knocked down during his defeat by Lamon Brewster back in 2004 (Getty Images)

Klitschko admits that he can be boring to watch, he knows he takes few risks, but he has still piled high the men who have abused him and then shrunk once the neon exposed their boasts. It is, trust me, a dense pile of savaged ambitions. He has made too many men turn their heads to avoid punches to have ever to answer a question about his desire.

In 2003, the year before the Brewster loss, Klitschko had been knocked out in two rounds by South Africa’s Corrie Sanders. This time it was simple to explain: he dropped his guard, decided to fight a puncher and had his chin checked in spectacular style. No mystery, no need to analyse. But the Brewster loss remains an enigma. There is a version that suggests Klitschko’s water bottle was drugged, a theory that Steward liked and that Brewster laughs at.

“I beat him because I broke his heart and refused to quit,” Brewster said, which is one interpretation. Brewster managed three defences, lost and then was stopped by Klitschko in a return in 2007. However, at that point the damaged retina that would end his career, was probably a factor. Big Wlad has no need ever to watch the rematch. “I get no satisfaction from beating any man,” he has said. “It is just my business.” However, in private he admits to enjoying beating David Haye in 2011. Haye, like Fury, had tried insults as a tedious warm-up and then, in failure, offered a damaged toe as a reason for his surrender.

Klitschko is not the machine he sometimes wants us all to buy, the stoic last member of an ancient breed of heartless Soviet pugilists. There is a tale attached to the rematch with Brewster which offers a tiny insight, a glimpse under the ice that shields Klitschko from normal scrutiny.

Klitschko met Brewster at a restaurant, by chance, a few months after the first fight and the American gave him a business card. On the card was a picture of a distraught Klitschko, his eyes wide in fear, going down in their fight. Brewster thought it was hilarious, Klitschko fumed and tucked it away with a nervous laugh. He vowed to get revenge and then get Brewster to sign it the night he beat him. He carried that card with him in and out of gyms and fights. Brewster did sign it the night he was stopped in Cologne; I hear that Wlad still has the card, thumbed and grubby and a permanent reminder of a past too many forget when making foolish claims about his heart and soul.