In boxing, we like our heroes fast and tragic. We work them like mercenaries, making them fight and fight and fight until they die a professional death that leaves us feeling sad. And in a boxing era when shock, hyperbole, and tragedy rule the day, No. 1 IBF heavyweight contender Chris Byrd has refreshingly little to contribute to all three.

He is ordinary -- of average size (6'1", 210 pounds), and not freakishly muscular or imposing. He does not glower, he does not taunt. He does not dance, posture, or use the words "eat your children" in any context. His "posse" consists of Mom and Dad Byrd (who also work his corner), his wife (and business manager) Tracy, and three well-behaved kids who are just there to watch Daddy go to work. He is the most complete boxer you have never heard of.

Saturday night he went to work in the Soaring Eagle Casino in Mt. Pleasant, Mich. -- a place where people believe in one-shot miracles but often end up tithing their Midwestern pensions away to the gods of chance. Across the ring from him was a man named Jeff Peguese -- game but overmatched -- who would be taken apart for three rounds by the technically superior Byrd, until his cornerman threw in the towel.

Byrd, whose styke is not about killing, crushing, or maiming, is simply an expert at the art of hitting his opponent without being hit himself. And he is known in boxing circles for making people look bad -- to the point that Evander Holyfield, who will fight anybody, anytime, has refused to fight him.

After the fight, the man who entered the ring to a tune called Jesus Bled and Died for Me, said of Mike Tyson, "He just needs a friend. A real friend. Somebody to talk on the phone and laugh with him."

Later, we watched Tyson bleed and die perhaps his last professional death in the ring. We watched him sit on the stool before his last round, bloody and swollen, and we heard him say, "I can't." We saw a man lose the only thing he ever really had.

Chris Byrd has a lot more to offer. Now it looks like he'll get his title shot, too.

Ted Kluck is a contributor to ESPN The Magazine.