If so, you're gold-medal material in the category of Olympics trivia.

Wilder is a member of the U.S. Olympic men's boxing team in Beijing. He's a good-natured heavyweight from Tuscaloosa, Ala., and the last man standing among the Americans.

Compared to many of his predecessors -- Sugar Ray Leonard, Muhammad Ali, the Spinks brothers, Oscar De La Hoya -- Wilder might as well be a spectator at the badminton tournament.

In all of sports, it's difficult to find one that's slipped more from the public consciousness than boxing -- and not just in the Olympics. There was a time when big boxing matches could fill any given stadium, when an NFL game could not, in this country.

The cultural impact of boxing is long forgotten, although it doesn't change the fact that Jack Johnson was the world champion a few years before Jackie Robinson was even born. Nor does it change the fact that Joe Louis' 1938 knockout win over Max Schmeling in New York's Yankee Stadium did as much to rally the country's young men for the pending challenge of World War II as a steamy photo of Betty Grable in a swimsuit. Or the fact that the death Rocky Marciano in a 1969 plane crash led to several days of national mourning.

There was the line that Mickey Mantle had about Louis upon his 1981 death. "It took all 25 of us [the great Yankees players] to sell out every seat. It just took just one round by Joe Louis," Mantle said.

That where boxing once was, but probably never again will be.

Maybe it's for the best, though.

Boxing, by today's standards, has become a socially unacceptable athletic relic. In a certain sense, it is barbaric and runs counter to world accord. Boxing comes from a time when a man's fists were the trademarks of his identity. A fair fight was a noble venture that transcended the lines of society. Reduced to its basic elements, it can be a violent sport that breeds more serious violence. But at its best, boxing was riveting, and its legacy important.

Many years ago, I had the opportunity to interview Louis in what was known as Raleigh's Velvet Clock Motor Inn. His hands, even then, were the size of coffee pots. Louis was approaching old age, but his memory was crisp. I asked him about the Schmeling bout.

"That one," he said, "I won't ever forget. Most of them other ones -- heck -- that was just fighting for fight money, which wasn't much of anything. That one, though. That one was the one for my country. That one meant more than the take [winnings]."

Louis likely was cheated out of most of that Schmeling purse. That's where boxing went, unfortunately. But before the seedy promoters -- or the mob, or whatever -- took control, a big boxing match was the Super Bowl of its day. What was once America's favorite sport has become America's trivia.

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