Keyshawn Davis has that star vibe — and he arrives at just the right time

NEW YORK — As far as false alarms go, the only one that’s sounded off more consistently than the old “rock is dead” mantra over the years is its sports equivalent — boxing is dead. We’ve been reading about its demise at intervals since Cassius started running his mouth.

Yet just a week before boxing’s great Lollapalooza card in Saudi Arabia, in which Artur Beterbiev and Dmitry Bivol will battle it out once again for the undisputed light heavyweight title, the 25-year-old Keyshawn Davis made a quick stop in the Big Apple to give a glimpse of boxing’s future. They’ve been calling him the best boxer to come out of Norfolk since Pernell Whitaker, a gravitational statement meant to highlight the late champion more than the geography. Still, Davis was in New York to try to win his first major title on Friday, and I thought I’d stop in to get a look and see what all the hubbub was about.

Nothing in the fight game is livelier than seeing a youthful fighter who is on the verge of breaking through. And it’s even better to catch them in a small bunker as famous as The Theater at Madison Square Garden, which — with the trademark crisscrossed ceiling lights and the ring washed up to one side — has the feel of a glamorized smoker. A small contingency of Ukrainian fans showed up to back their fighter, Denys Berinchyk, who was temporarily holding the WBO lightweight title. I say “temporarily” because Vegas installed him as a +475 underdog, which wasn’t exactly an endorsement.

He felt more like a sacrificial offering in a star-making ritual, which only lent to the vibe.

The first to walk, though, was the challenger Davis, and it wasn’t a long runway at the old Hulu so he took his sweet time. Decked in white and gold, he glowed against the darkness of the light drop, his white gloves swaying as he lifted his arms. The assembled crowd came to life. High expectation was in the air.

Earlier in the night, just before Vito Mielnicki and the Irishman Connor Coyle went on, cell phones were aloft in the smoke-filled men’s room as two fans squared off after a disagreement at the wash station. A group of onlookers cheered on the dispute, with one going so far as to yell “Handle your business, Mr. Businessman!” — a homage to the man of the hour, “The Businessman,” Davis. The dispute ended peacefully enough (to the dismay of those gathered), but that anticipation held taut throughout the night.

Compared to other trips to The Theater, this felt significant. I’d been to here for events in the past, a GLORY event in which diehard fans insisted that I pay close attention to Georgio Petrosyan, a then 27-year-old phenom who was the Jon Jones of the kickboxing world. Those fans apologized when Petrosyan lost to Andy Ristie, in a way that a dinner guest apologizes when excusing himself from the table with an upset stomach. I was also there for a Beat the Streets wrestling event years later, in which Jordan Burroughs treated Ben Askren like a ragdoll. Relatively low-key affairs, and anticlimactic in every way.

But this was different.

The Ukrainian flags waved, and chants broke out, yet the only one that Davis heard was, “NOR-FICK, NOR-FICK.” The actual chant sounded far more profane, especially for ESPN audiences, but that’s just how Norfolk is pronounced. It wasn’t a spectacular second-round demolishing like he had against Gustavo Lemos back in November, but it was still a subtle masterclass of the right hand.

That right hand.

That right hand was the co-star of the show. It threatened. It made promises. It carried the crowd’s tension with it, whenever it flew, right up until the end. Berinchyk got in and out of the exchanges like a man playing with fire, and he tied Davis up whenever he could. But in the fourth round it all came apart. A brutal hook combination to the body dropped him to a knee, and long before referee Harvey Dock could wave him off, there was Davis, waving his hands from the neutral corner. He knew it upon impact.

You couldn’t help but feel for Berinchyk, who’d been accused of sending a box of bananas and watermelon to Davis in what was thought to be a racist gesture. He didn’t have anything for Davis on fight night. He got bloodied up and tenderized when in close, made to feel like a title tenant more than an actual owner. Over a decade ago he won a silver medal for his country at the Olympics in London, and he’s had a nice career. He even dabbled in the bare-knuckle boxing scene, going against the former UFC fighter Artem Lobov just for kicks.

Yet you get the sense that Davis isn’t just a boxer, but the emerging face of boxing itself. If there was a masquerade in play, it got shut down quickly. Davis, who has been around Terence Crawford long enough to know how to handle himself as a winner, now has the WBO lightweight title, and he’ll be hunting for more. Add him to the other names. Vasiliy Lomachencko. Gervonta Davis. Shakur Stevenson. Top Rank’s officials believe he’s bound to be a champion in other weight classes, too.

“What a performance,” the 93-year-old Bob Arum said. Arum has been promoting events since George Chuvalo took on Muhammad Ali in 1966. “You saw the future of boxing tonight here in New York City.”

So we did. And boxing is as alive as its ever been.