Sports Illustrated article on Wladimir Klitschko

It was David versus Goliath, only this time Goliath was endearing and David needed a bigger slingshot. Or, perhaps, a bazooka. In the moments following his emphatic seventh-round knockout victory last Saturday night over Calvin Brock, Wladimir Klitschko walked into his locker room at New York's Madison Square Garden and basked in the moment: He posed for pictures, ran through a mock interview with brother Vitali (coming soon: Those Krazy Klitschkos!) and glad-handed every friend of a friend of a friend who had connived his way into the IBF/IBO heavyweight champ's private quarters. Meet Wladimir Klitschko, boxing's man of the people.

At age 30, Ukraine's Klitschko has become the smiling face of a division that has for too long been faceless. His performance against the previously unbeaten Brock (now 29-1 with 22 KOs) showed a new level of maturity and confidence. The 6'6", 241-pound Klitschko used his jab to keep the 6'2", 2241Ú2-pound challenger at long range, and when Brock -- whose game plan, to "hit and not get hit," had quickly given way to "hit and get hit harder" -- opened a cut over Klitschko's left eye with an accidental head butt in the sixth round, the champion stepped up his assault. A huge right hand in the seventh dropped Brock on his face. Though Brock beat the count, referee Wayne Kelly wisely waved the fight over at 2:10 of the round.

With the win, Klitschko (47-3, 42 KOs) retained his title and, more important, set himself up as the unquestioned heavyweight standard-bearer. He is everything pundits crave: the anti-Tyson, powerful and polished (so gracious in his postfight praise of Brock that you would have thought he had just retired Muhammad Ali). He preaches without sounding preachy, touting education in a way that doesn't ring hollow, not when it's coming from a man who has doctorates in philosophy and sports science and can sermonize in four languages. He is philanthropic -- a UNESCO goodwill ambassador fighting for Namibian school construction -- and carries himself with the equanimity of a hostage negotiator. When newly crowned WBO champion Shannon Briggs crashed his postfight press conference, so deft was Klitschko at defusing the situation that Briggs's parting shot at Klitschko was an invitation to a party.

That's outside the ring. Inside the ropes Klitschko, with his potent right hand and that stinging jab, has become boxing's best hope for a unified champion. "I won't consider myself the true champion," he says, "until I win all the titles." Say what you want about the four fighters who wear the heavyweight crowns (Klitschko, Briggs, Nicolay Valuev and Oleg Maskaev), but there hasn't been a unified champ since Lennox Lewis in 1999. Having handed three of his four latest opponents their first losses, Klitschko has positioned himself as a legend killer (or at least a myth buster) who is unafraid to step in with top-flight competition. "He wants to fight the best," says his trainer, Emanuel Steward, before adding a subtle shot at WBA champion Valuev and the parade of patsies he has beaten. "No Monte Barretts."

The best way to ensure that Klitschko gets his wish may be through promoter Don King's proposed heavyweight tournament, a promising concept in theory but one whose implementation would involve more political maneuvering than a congressional election. Promoters, after all, have been known to raise fans' excitement with high-profile bouts and then pull out when the money matters get tricky. But Klitschko is committed to giving the public what it wants. "No excuses," says the people's champ. "Let's get it done."