Boxing Odds Update: Valuez is massive - so how can Haye win?

Boxing Betting / Maxliu / 14 October 2009 / Leave a Comment

"The Russian, who wooed his wife with poetry recitals, is the value at [2.72]."

David Haye is hot favourite to beat Nikolay Valuez but, when you look at the size difference between the two fighters, the giant Russian is surely worth a punt...

Have you seen the size of that Russian bloke David Haye will fight for the WBA Heavyweight title on November 7?

I'm sure his mother loves him, but Nikolay Valuev looks an absolute monster.

At seven foot tall, he'll tower over Haye; I can't see how the Brit will get near him and even if he does, Valuev's face looks like it's made of cement and would break the hand of anyone who managed to land a punch on him.

So how on earth can Haye be favourite to win the fight at [1.62] with the Russian out at [2.72]?

Valuez's eyes remind me of a line from a Martin Amis novel where a character gives a look which betrays, "a distinct lack of everything the human race has ever agreed on."

There's definitely something pre-enlightenment about Valuev, which I suppose might be a quality in a boxer.

Perhaps that's unfair.

Afer all, I'm 6 ft 4' tall but softer than a bag of tits when it comes to fisticuffs. Fortunately, it hasn't come to that for a while (having said, I will, inevitably, get lamped in the pub tonight) but at school, as a studious and enquiring teenager I was frequently on the receiving end of hostilities. And, regardless of how undeserved the blows were - which is to say totally, always, regardless - I never fought back. I simply couldn't bring myself to hit another human being in the face.

Which is in part why I don't like boxing. I know, I know - I've read Ernest Hemingway, Norman Mailer, George Plimpton - I'm aware that boxing is the sport of intellectual pugilists but, when it comes to fighting, I'm lazy - all I think, is that boxing is barbaric and should be banned.

I doubt anyone hit Valuez when he smirked at their pronunciation of "Yeats" but the giant Russian, who wooed his wife with recitals of self-penned poetry, has got to be, err, value at [2.72].