BEIJING — Along one of the walls in the basement gym that USA Boxing has called home during the Olympics are sheets of paper filled with some of sports’ most hoary cliches. “Not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog” kind of stuff.
But if team officials were smart, they would rip down those trite adages and spend a few minutes chatting with Deontay Wilder, who could provide enough wallpaper for the next three Olympiads.
Wilder, an engaging, lanky 22-year-old from Tuscaloosa, Ala., would certainly welcome the conversation. At this point, he’s probably pretty lonely. Fighting in the heavyweight classification, the 6-foot-7, 201-pound Wilder is the only American left standing. Luckily, Wilder can bring the chatter, turning a phrase as smoothly as any left-right combo he might fashion in Friday night’s semifinal bout against Italy’s Clemente Russo.
“I love myself. I love how my mind works,” he said, somehow sounding quite humble. “I love thinking about my future. I plan everything out.”
But it was hard for even Wilder to draw up the blueprint that got him here. By almost any reckoning, Wilder would be a longshot to be the last man standing in a boxing competition. He only picked up the sport three years ago, soon after his daughter, Naieya, was born. When he made the Olympic team, he had but 21 fights under his belt.
“He might seem unlikely from the outside, but if you saw this work and knew how determined he is, you wouldn’t think so,” Team USA coach Dan Campbell said. “His attitude is he’s going to impose his will on you, no matter how experienced you are.”
As a teen who found a way into trouble, Wilder gained a reputation as someone who was pretty handy with his hands. Initially, he thought that talent would manifest itself on a basketball court or football field, but those sports lost their importance, he said, after his daughter was born with spina bifida. In order to support his child, Wilder quit the junior college he was attending and went to work. He would begin at a Red Lobster from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m., get a couple of hours of sleep, then go to the local Mercedes-Benz plant, where he would draw a 12-hour shift.
But even when it seemed like the closest he would get to a 600SLK was riveting nuts and bolts on one on the assembly line, Wilder said he always knew he would make it big.
The prophesy began to come true when Wilder found boxing, meeting up with an old friend who, remembering Wilder’s street fighting skills, told him about a boxing trainer who was visiting a local gym.
When Wilder got there, he was hooked, even though the trainer, Jay Deas, put him through days of torture, thinking the youngster would fade away like so many other wannabe Mike Tysons. It never happened.
“You can say, ‘I play football, I play basketball, I play golf,’ but you can’t ‘play boxing,’ ” Wilder said. “Everybody dreams of having that job they want to wake up every morning to do. I get up every morning for this. It’s something I love to do.”
Even after he proved himself in Alabama, winning two national Golden Gloves championships, there were skeptics along the road to the Olympics. Wilder said he used the negativity as fuel.
“People don’t know how dedicated I am,” he said.
It is perhaps Wilder’s affinity for playing the underdog that has led to his success here. In both fights, he rallied late.
Inevitably there will be questions about turning pro, about which Wilder is undecided.
“Everybody’s telling me to stay away from Don King and those guys,” Wilder said, “but I look at it like this: Everybody’s got some kind of dirt on ’em.”
Everybody but Daddy’s little girl. Naieya, 3, is doing well physically and even learning some Chinese phrases to wow Wilder with during their web chats. That’s nice, but Wilder said the conversation he’s looking forward to the most upon his return is the one he will have with his daughter.
“I haven’t seen her in two or three months,” he said, citing a brutal training schedule. “When I see that face, it’ll be like me having her all over again. It’ll be like her first Christmas.”
And Daddy may even be bearing a golden ornament for the tree.
Anthony Cotton: 303-954-1292 or acotton@denverpost.com
