Ah, to be a fight fan in the 1970s! Arguably, there were more all-time greats in that decade than any other, especially in the heavyweight division: Three men — Muhammad Ali, Joe Frazier, and George Foreman — all had legitimate claims as Mount Rushmore-worthy heavyweights. Plus, a fourth — ex-Marine Ken Norton — would’ve been a top contender in any era.
But when those four fighters competed against each other, the outcomes were like rock-scissors-paper: Ali could beat Foreman by KO but couldn’t beat Norton. (Ali fought Norton three times, and despite the scorecards, Ali lost all three fights.) Norton could beat Ali but had his head detached by Foreman. Meanwhile, Frazier always gave Ali hell, but couldn’t match up against Foreman whatsoever: Foreman and Frazier fought twice, and each time, Frazier was just obliterated. (Fun fact: When Frazier came to the ring for his rematch against Foreman, a young Mr. T accompanied him as his bodyguard.)
Ali is universally regarded as the greatest heavyweights of all time. (Joe Louis deserves consideration, too.) Foreman is usually in the all-time top five, and Frazier in the top ten. Norton is maybe in the top 20. Yet when they fought, you could throw those rankings out the window.
Styles make fights.
All fighters have strengths and weaknesses. As great as Ali was, he kept his hands too low and was always vulnerable to hooks, à la Frazier and Henry Cooper. Foreman was a bulldozer who’d plow through anyone in front of him but struggled with movement and pacing. Frazier might’ve been tougher than a Sizzler steak, but it took him a few rounds to start smokin’ — which left him vulnerable in the early rounds.
Styles make fights.
The first example of this is probably David versus Goliath. In a physical matchup between the two — where they battled in sword-to-sword combat — David would’ve been decapitated. But a battle of projectiles nullified Goliath’s strengths. In anything, his freakish size made him a ripe target for David’s slingshot.
Styles make fights.
For Donald Trump and Kamala Harris, we’re dealing with two very flawed combatants. Trump can be unduly abrasive, impulsive, and self-absorbed; Harris has mistaken confidence in her ability to baffle audiences with her bull hooey. Neither is particularly likable.
Their strengths are wholly dissimilar, too: Harris is a splendid actress when reciting someone else’s material. When she gives a speech to a friendly audience, you can see how she was able to solidify her bond with the Democratic base so quickly. Trump’s strength is his ability to connect with audiences while ad-libbing. The best Trump speeches and most memorable Trump moments don’t come from a teleprompter but from his heart.
Harris wins the debate if she can stick like Velcro to her talking points. As long as she can use that “serious adult” expression(s) and stay within the boundaries of her material, she’ll do just fine.
But if Trump can push her outside of her comfort zone — if he can force her to ad-lib — you’ll hear echoes of Howard Cosell’s immortal call: “Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier!”
Trump’s other strength is that he’s a Giant Orange Wrecking Ball. Nobody’s better at wielding chaos for strategic benefit. So it doesn’t really matter how much prep work Harris does; Donald Trump will almost certainly say or do something that forces her to deviate from her notes.
The lack of a physical audience should also benefit Trump. He has a much better ear than Harris does for how “real” humans respond to the spoken word. Without a live audience, her propensity for bizarre word salads will exponentially increase. He’ll probably goad her into saying something so strained and awkward that even ChatGPT couldn’t make sense of it.
The removal of a studio audience also poses a danger to Trump: As a natural performer, he feeds off the energy of crowds. Without them, he can sometimes be surprisingly low-energy. But trying to entertain audiences also can make him petty, meanspirited, and overly aggressive. It’s what cost him the first debate against Biden in 2020.
As a risk/reward proposition, I’d prefer a more subdued Trump to a hyper-aggressive Trump. Hopefully, he learned his lesson from his 2024 debate with Biden: When your opponent is self-destructing, stay out of his way!
The more the spotlight stays on Kamala Harris, the better for Trump.
Just as sunlight is the greatest disinfectant, the more the public watches the REAL Kamala Harris — not the one who reads and recites other people’s talking points, but the one who speaks extemporaneously and must think on her feet — the more her numbers will crater. Her greatest perceptual strength was being an alternative to Trump and Biden: Tired of both those guys? Vote for Kamala! That’s why this debate is so dangerous for her. At some point, she’ll need to be known for who she is — instead of being defined by what she isn’t.
As HBO commentator Larry Merchant used to say, “Boxing is the theater of the unknown.” At any moment, anything can happen, so victory is never guaranteed. But stylistically, certain fighters are matchup nightmares. If Trump can stay disciplined and give Harris free rein to babble her way into trouble, he’ll walk away with a unanimous decision.
And if things go perfectly, he can close the show with a late-round knockout.
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