AMERICA AT LARGE:Were he better known, or perhaps something other than a cruiserweight, Steve Cunningham would be regarded as a breath of fresh air on the landscape, writes George Kimball.

YOU COULD hardly blame Steve Cunningham for saying "Hey, what about me?" Less than two weeks ago in London, British cruiserweight David Haye demolished Enzo Maccarinelli in less than two rounds, adding Maccarinelli's World Boxing Organisation championship to the World Boxing Association and World Boxing Council titles he already owned.

Haye thereupon proclaimed that, having "cleaned up" the world's cruiserweights, he would abandon the 200lb division and would campaign henceforth as a heavyweight.

"Look, as a business move on his part I can understand that part of it," said Cunningham, the 31-year-old American who holds the International Boxing Federation version of the cruiserweight championship. "There's more money at heavyweight, so I can't fault him completely. But I do fault him for saying that there's no reason to remain a cruiserweight because he "cleaned up" the division. He didn't. I'm the IBF champion and he didn't clean me up."

Contemporary boxing has seen the traditional eight weight classes proliferate to the point that "world championships" are now recognised in 17 categories, a couple of them separated by as few as three pounds. It could reasonably be argued, on the other hand, that of all the new divisions, none makes more sense than the cruiserweight class.

Today's heavyweights are almost without exception bigger men than their predecessors. Lennox Lewis, the best heavyweight of his generation, and current WBC champion Simon Peter campaigned in the neighbourhood of 250lb, while IBF/WBO champ Wladimir Klitschko's fighting weight is 240. Nikolai Valuev, who recently owned the WBA title, tips the scales at 320. In the absence of a separate cruiserweight division, a man weighing as little as 176lb would be expected to compete against these comparative giants.

It is not a stretch to suggest that, were they fighting today, Jack Dempsey, Rocky Marciano and possibly even Joe Louis would all be fighting as cruiserweights.

But in the absence of the sort of stature big-name fighters might provide, the 200lb division has come to be viewed as a boxing graveyard. "What is a cruiserweight?" goes the boxing riddle. "Bigger than a breadbox, but smaller than a battleship."

Even a successful cruiserweight doesn't want to remain a cruiserweight for long, which helps to explain Haye's eagerness to graduate to play with the big boys. (That said, ithe 29-year history of the division, Evander Holyfield remains the only cruiserweight champion to have gone on to win the heavyweight title.)

Steve Cunningham has no such designs. Recognising his limitations, he has campaigned throughout his career as a cruiserweight, and his goal remains the same: to unify the 200lb titles. When that possibility was mentioned to Haye, the Londoner dismissively sniffed, "Nobody knows who (Cunningham) is. Who has he beaten?"

The simple answer would be: more top-10 boxers than Haye has faced.

Cunningham's career record is 21-1, the same as Haye's. At 6ft 3in, the men are equal in stature, and, at the moment, in weight.

Were he better known, or perhaps something other than a cruiserweight, Cunningham would be regarded as a breath of fresh air on the boxing landscape. He enlisted in the US navy straight out of high school, and spent four years refuelling aeroplanes on the carriers America and Enterprise. Along the way he took up boxing, and in his first amateur bout, at the Little Creek Amphibious Base in 1996, he upset the reigning navy light-heavyweight champion.

Upon his discharge he won the 1998 Golden Gloves title, and turned pro two years later. He was a cruiserweight for his 2000 pro debut, and he is a cruiserweight today.

In 2002, he signed a promotional contract with Don King and spent the ensuing three years beating marginal contenders in small roles on big shows, from Las Vegas to South Africa to Madison Square Garden. He was 19-0 when he secured his first championship bout, a 2006 match in Warsaw against Krysztof Wlodarczyk for the vacant IBF title.

Many boxers would have considered this an unfortunate break. Cunningham preferred to view it as an opportunity to broaden his personal horizons. His wife, Elizabeth, accompanied him to Poland, and during a break in training the two toured the site of the concentration camp at Auschwitz, a visit Cunningham views as one of the more moving experiences of his life.

That he was facing a stacked deck was evident after 12 rounds. American judge Charlie Dwyer awarded Wlodarczyk just one round in scoring the bout for Cunningham, but Polish and German judges scored the fight for Wlodarczyk, handing the title to the Pole on a split decision.

In light of the evident chicanery, the IBF ordered a mandatory rematch, but a purse bid was won by the Seminole Tribe of Florida (which in the complicated netherworld of boxing held Wlodarczyk's promotional rights), and it was back to Warsaw for the rematch.

Cunningham is accustomed to fighting on his opponents' turf. He hasn't had a fight in Philadelphia in five years, and has even taken to billing himself as "The Road Warrior". This time he won via a majority decision.

Then, last December, he travelled to Germany to make his first defence, against the undefeated Marco Huck.

Huck was a huge betting favourite, but Cunningham stopped him in the 12th round. ("Jesus," the religious Cunningham explained of the upset, "is the ultimate bookie.")

Owning a world championship is more lucrative than not owning one, but, in Cunningham's case, he and Elizabeth have continued to struggle, in part due to the expense of two major heart surgeries for daughter Kennedy, the younger of their children.

Laying the groundwork for his post-boxing career, earlier this year he opened the USS Cunningham Pizza Parlor in downtown Philly, and has done a stint or two as a co-host for ESPN's Friday Night Fights. But his goal, he says, remains the same as it was when he took up the professional game eight years ago: to become the first undisputed cruiserweight champion since Holyfield in 1988.

"We're still hopeful we can convince Haye to take one more fight at cruiserweight, to determine once and for all who really is the best in the division," Cunningham told Philadelphia fight scribe Bernard Fernandez this week. "You're one fight away from being the man. Just one fight, but now it looks like that fight might not happen."

"What is a cruiserweight?" goes the boxing riddle. "Bigger than a breadbox, but smaller than a battleship.