Boxing has found a new star.
Well, that’s how the latest chapter of the Terence Crawford story is supposed to be told.
In reality, it’s gibberish.
Crawford, 28, was already a shining light in the sport with excellent wins on a résumé enhanced significantly at the weekend by his domination of Viktor Postol.
While the fight itself was far from spectacular, the performance of Omaha’s favourite son was its very definition.
There were shades of bona fide boxing greats like Pernell Whitaker and Floyd Mayweather Jr as he delivered a masterclass in power, precision, defence and speed of hand and foot.
Last week on Reddit I said I thought Crawford would get the stoppage between rounds nine and 12.
Despite two knockdowns, an early finish never materialised although it so easily could have such was his comfort and control.
Many fans will be disappointed with the lack of toe-to-toe action, others frustrated at the Ukrainian’s inability to pin down the switch-hitting wizard. Some have already accused Crawford of turning the light-welterweight showdown into the dreariest of dust-ups.
That’s a school of thought I don’t subscribe to.
I enjoyed watching one of the world’s best boxers implement a near-perfect plot to strip an accomplished operator of his skills.
Sadly, there are those who prefer to get their kicks from mismatch knockouts.
I will remember this WBC and WBO title unification for Crawford’s artistry – gifts, some of which until the early hours of Sunday, I didn’t know he possessed.
Postol, who also arrived at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas unbeaten, is a good fighter. If his desire remains, he can claim another world title when Crawford eventually moves to welterweight.
The American, who I had winning every round, is now a short distance from boxing’s pound-for-pound summit.
HBO’s documentaries on Crawford have been a joy to watch.
They tell you he’s a family man, dedicated athlete and real working-class hero who serves as an inspiration to young men from underprivileged backgrounds.
You can’t argue with that. He loves his fishing too.
Yet, ultimately, the story is more charming than the man himself.
From observing his demeanour in interviews and in the squared circle before and after fights, Crawford appears a menacing character.
Menacing has never been, and rarely will be, a threat to ring remuneration.
If Crawford fails to lure Manny Pacquiao between the ropes, how about a Ricky Burns rematch in Omaha?
Fighting abroad doesn’t faze Burns, Scotland’s three-weight world champion who now holds the WBA’s 140 strap.
The most imaginative meeting it is not, but it would keep the local hero ticking over in front of his home fans, secure him another title and give both men a reasonable purse.
I was sad to read the news of Jim Watt’s retirement from broadcasting.
Like most pundits, Watt – who hung up his gloves after losing to ring icon Alexis Arguello in 1981 – both engaged and enraged Sky Sports viewers.
In recent years it became fashionable to give him a kicking on social media.
You’ll struggle to find a more small-minded, attention-seeking Twitter bandwagon.
I’ll miss his views.
More than four and a half years have passed since Carl Froch was outboxed by Andre Ward.
But judging by recent radio remarks, he is still coming to terms with the loss.
Bizarrely, in his instalment of talkSPORT’s excellent My Sporting Life show, he describes Ward’s cynical tactics as “borderline illegal”.