Kelly Pavlik tightens his grip on the sledgehammer. Taking a stance that mirrors Tiger Woods navigating a lie in the tall grass at Augusta, his crude substitute for a sand wedge cuts through the humid eastern Ohio air, slamming into a truck tire laying at his feet. Behind every swing of the 18-pound tool is the hope of his Youngstown, Ohio, hometown. When Pavlik bashes a 20-pound baseball bat into a heavy bag, Youngstown bashes with him. When he pushes a black GMC Envoy SUV in an imitation of a "World's Strongest Man" broadcast, he's got the 80,000-plus citizens of Youngstown on his back.
On September 29 in Atlantic City, Pavlik is scheduled to step into the ring with world middleweight champion Jermain Taylor. It is a fight that's crucial for the champ, who despite an unbeaten record, is fighting to keep excitement in his division. It's equally crucial for a challenger just coming into his own as a name fighter. And in preparing for the champ, Pavlik is training as much for himself as he is for all of Youngstown.
We haven't had nothing good here in a long time, Kelly says. Youngstown is struggling. There's no jobs anywhere. Whenever a sports star comes up, like Maurice Clarett, the next thing you know, he's done. Everyone's counting on me now. It's a lot of pressure. In some ways it's good if you're in that situation, but you have to pull through.
On multiple levels, you could say Kelly Pavlik has come from nowhere to find a place at boxing's VIP roundtable. As recently as 2005, the undefeated contender (31-0, 28 KOs) was fighting opponents with losing records, in front of crowds in places like Choctaw, Mississippi. But with that anvil of a right hand he continued to climb up the middleweight ranks, posting consecutive knockout wins over Bronco McKart, Lenord Pierre and Jose Luis Zertuche in 2006 and early-2007, setting up a WBC title eliminator with popular Colombian
We haven't had nothing good here in a long time, Kelly says. Youngstown is struggling. There's no jobs anywhere. Whenever a sports star comes up, like Maurice Clarett, the next thing you know, he's done. Everyone's counting on me now. It's a lot of pressure. In some ways it's good if you're in that situation, but you have to pull through.
On multiple levels, you could say Kelly Pavlik has come from nowhere to find a place at boxing's VIP roundtable. As recently as 2005, the undefeated contender (31-0, 28 KOs) was fighting opponents with losing records, in front of crowds in places like Choctaw, Mississippi. But with that anvil of a right hand he continued to climb up the middleweight ranks, posting consecutive knockout wins over Bronco McKart, Lenord Pierre and Jose Luis Zertuche in 2006 and early-2007, setting up a WBC title eliminator with popular Colombian
KO artist Edison Miranda on May 19. Coming in as the underdog, Pavlik outworked Miranda and pounded out a seventh-round TKO that stole the show as the undercard on the Taylor/Cory Spinks marquee. The Miranda fight put Pavlik's name into public consciousness, and The Ring Magazine called him the man to beat among middleweights in its September '07 issue - where Pavlik shared the cover with Floyd Mayweather and Manny Pacquiao.
Pavlik was born and raised - and still resides - in Youngstown, a once-thriving steel city that sits directly between Cleveland and Pittsburgh. The town has been in decline since the late-1970s, when the steel mills began shutting down, leading to waves of layoffs, a dip in population and, naturally, a rise in crime.
Steel is what we were known for. Now we have nothing at all, after the mills were shut down, Pavlik says. Growing up it wasn't too bad, though. It's a rough area, but my parents taught me and my brothers what was right and what was wrong.
Aside from a publicized bar brawl a couple years ago, he's stayed on the straight-and-narrow, and now says he hardly ever goes out between training and caring for his daughter Sydney, who's a little more than a year old.
Pavlik was born and raised - and still resides - in Youngstown, a once-thriving steel city that sits directly between Cleveland and Pittsburgh. The town has been in decline since the late-1970s, when the steel mills began shutting down, leading to waves of layoffs, a dip in population and, naturally, a rise in crime.
Steel is what we were known for. Now we have nothing at all, after the mills were shut down, Pavlik says. Growing up it wasn't too bad, though. It's a rough area, but my parents taught me and my brothers what was right and what was wrong.
Aside from a publicized bar brawl a couple years ago, he's stayed on the straight-and-narrow, and now says he hardly ever goes out between training and caring for his daughter Sydney, who's a little more than a year old.
