It is a truth that has been written and rewritten into the rich tapestry of boxing since James J. Corbett, the original pretty boy, dismantled the brutal pretensions of John L. Sullivan in 1892 to become the first heavyweight champion of the modern era: a great boxer will always beat a great slugger.

This is the chastening reality confronting Ricky Hatton as he begins the final countdown to his momentous showdown with Floyd Mayweather Jr in Las Vegas a week on Saturday. It is the reality that has haunted his every workout since he signed the contract that will pit him against the most skilled boxer of recent times. It is the reality that many fear will lead to the loveable British pugilist leaving the ring next week with a misshapen face and cruelly shattered hopes.

Make no mistake, if Hatton were to beat Mayweather it would rate as the greatest victory by a British boxer since the Marquess of Queensberry codified the sport in 1867 and shifted for ever the balance of power between brain and brawn. Modern boxing, unlike the prize-fighting that went before it, is not about brutality or belligerence but about speed and subtlety. At least that is the case when someone of the calibre of Mayweather is in the ring.

Even the historical precedents that may encourage the Hatton camp are not what they seem. When Roberto Duran, the Latin American hard man, outmuscled Sugar Ray Leonard in Montreal in 1980, Leonard, by his admission, fought the wrong fight.

The more pertinent comparison is with the rematch in New Orleans a few months later, when Leonard danced, jabbed and teased Duran into a state of such animated frustration that the Panamanian threw his hands to the skies and with two words – “ no mas” (no more) – quit the ring and destroyed his reputation.

Not that Hatton would do anything so simultaneously narcissistic and self-destructive. The little fella with the huge heart has forged a justified reputation as an honest-to-goodness boxer with oodles of energy, power aplenty and a well-honed savagery that has enabled him to fell such admirable opponents as Kostya Tszyu. But even his most fervent Mancunian supporters would concede that there is little science or versatility within the Hatton repertoire.

And that is the trouble. However much we may want Hatton to obliterate the swaggering affectations of the trash-talking, gun-toting, hip-swinging champion, the fear is that he lacks the adaptability to do so. Mayweather will dance, jab and throw combinations from angles that will defy Hatton’s imagination. He will tease and shimmy, peek and punch. Hatton’s response, as ever, will be to bore forward with unidimensional vigour. If he is to win, it will be by sheer force of will.

Many Hatton supporters have spent recent weeks reassessing Mayweather’s trumpeted claims to greatness. They point to his split-decision victory over Oscar De La Hoya as evidence of diminishing skills and question the stature of his multiweight accomplishments. They also place great emphasis on the form line through José Luis Castillo (Mayweather won a disputed decision in 2002 while Hatton scored a fourth-round knockout in June).

One is reminded of the British fans who believed that Alan Minter’s victory over Vito Antuoformo in 1980 “proved” his superiority to Marvin Hagler (who had previously drawn with Antuoformo). But Hagler put such bogus reasoning into perspective by dismantling Minter at Wembley in three rounds. The truth is that Castillo – in his prime when he boxed Mayweather – was at the end of his rope when he stepped into the ring with Hatton.

It is painful to admit, but Mayweather is one of only two boxers to have emerged since the retirement of Leonard with authentic claims to greatness (the other being the tragic Pernell Whitaker, the American three-weight world champion who spent the years after retirement in and out of prison, as high as a kite). Mayweather’s defensive skills are reminiscent of Willie Pep, his self-confidence comparable to the young Cassius Clay and his strength no less palpable than that of Leonard. One hesitates to put him into the top tier alongside the likes of Muhammad Ali and Sugar Ray Robinson, but he is not far off.

Hatton will draw some much-needed encouragement from previous British boxers to have travelled into an opponent’s backyard and emerged victorious, including such titans as Ken Buchanan, John H. Stracey, Lennox Lewis and, most miraculously of all, Lloyd Honeyghan, who destroyed the soaring reputation of Don Curry on an unforgettable night in Atlantic City in 1986 to win the undisputed world welterweight crown.

But can Hatton place his name at the pinnacle of that list? Can he defy the enduring logic of pugilism by unravelling the artistry of his gilded opponent? Can he vindicate the optimism of his travelling fans and stake a lasting claim to greatness? It will take heart, courage, self-belief and a more cerebral comprehension of the sweet science than we have yet seen from the Hyde Hitman. Our hearts – if not our heads – are with him.

Three reasons for hope

Lloyd Honeyghan v Don Curry
Atlantic City, September 27, 1986
The Ragamuffin man pulled off the greatest shock in British boxing history by savaging Don Curry, the undisputed welterweight champion, over six rounds.

Lennox Lewis v Evander Holyfield
Las Vegas, November 13, 1999
Lewis dispelled the bitterness of his earlier, disputed draw with Holyfield by winning a clear and unanimous decision in front of 7,000 travelling fans to unify the heavyweight title.

Ken Buchanan v Ismael Laguna
San Juan, September 26, 1970
The 25-year-old Scot overcame his formidable opponent and 100-degree heat to become the first lightweight champion from Britain since Freddie Welsh in 1917.

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