Before he captured the heavyweight title and the undivided attention of the general public, Tyson was another young prospect becoming a contender, and there are a lot of those.

Amateur success never guarantees professional world championships, but it greases the path and tends to accelerate the process. In terms of timing, Tyson’s misfortune was arriving immediately after two U.S. Olympic boxing teams, 1976 and 1984, experienced unusual success in their respective Games. There was so much focus on the Olympians it gave the impression anyone who was anyone would be participating, and Tyson missed his chance to qualify twice.

By halfway through 1986, Evander Holyfield, one of the stars of ‘84 and a fighter Tyson already knew well from their amateur days, was a cruiserweight champion. If the death of Tyson’s father figure, mentor and trainer Cus D’Amato months earlier didn’t ignite a flame inside the fighter, perhaps the outside pressure of a potential rivals’ success would.

From the start of 1986 to mid-July, Tyson fought an incredible nine times. He fought 15 times the previous year, and the increase in activity likely helped him through his grief. During that time, however, Tyson was taken the distance for the first time in a tough fight with James “Quick” Tillis, and he immediately followed it up by winning another decision against Mitch “Blood” Green.

Despite three more quick victories, The Ring saw Tyson as a fighter standing on the edge of a knife. He was explosive and thrilling, thus every outing was a disappointment if it didn’t outdo the last one, yet he needed rounds from solid heavyweights to become a better fighter. It wasn’t clear if the flat performances were signs of Tyson’s limitations or just pugilistic growing pains.

Tyson’s team, which always seemed to have several steps of his career planned out ahead of time, lined up the fighter’s next outing by the time he demolished Lorenzo Boyd in July 1986. Two weeks later, on July 26, 40 years ago today, Tyson would resurrect an old heavyweight name by taking on Marvis Frazier, son of former heavyweight champion “Smokin’” Joe Frazier.

In truth, nobody would have to dig far to find old Joe, to whom Tyson was incessantly compared. The “Thrilla in Manila” was only about 11 years earlier, and a 16-year-old Marvis was even featured in The Ring as Joe’s pro career came to an end in 1977.

Marvis became a valuable amateur commodity in the years between his father’s retirement and his own pro debut. He won multiple Golden Gloves tournaments and a National Amateur Athletic Union title at heavyweight, and it wasn’t thanks to his last name. Marvis was a skilled boxer-puncher and a different kind of fighter than his father was, despite looking like his clone.

Boxing is all too often a game of father figures, though. Sigmund Freud would have lost himself analyzing the father relationships of Tyson and Marvis Frazier.

Tyson had no lasting father figure until he met D’Amato as a teenager, and he died before his young charge could fulfill the old man’s prophecy of seizing the heavyweight throne, leaving a veritable chasm. For Marvis, growing up the son of a heavyweight legend had its advantages, especially on the financial end. But Marvis and his siblings were bullied in school, often by other kids using the same foul language Muhammad Ali used against their father.

Had that been where Joe’s reach ended, Marvis may have more easily navigated a career as a pro fighter. Alas, the elder Frazier began managing and training fighters, including Marvis. One of Joe’s first orders of business was changing Marvis’ style to resemble his own, encouraging his son to sit down on punches and bore in for clinch-fighting rather than use his hand speed and footwork to win fights. Marvis got to 10-0 as a professional before running into heavyweight champion Larry Holmes, who cruelly dispatched him in less than one round.

Most pundits criticized Joe’s decision to push Marvis into a title fight unprepared, his training methods, his cold approach toward a son that clearly sought his dad’s approval. But to Marvis’ credit, he returned to the ring and won six fights, albeit struggling in half of them, before being aimed toward Tyson.

About a week before the fight, a gaggle of reporters visited Joe’s Philadelphia gym for a media luncheon ahead of Tyson-Frazier. Before the official event even began, a few writers found Joe in his office and asked him about comparisons between himself and Tyson. Physically the comparisons made sense as both were short, squat, threw more hooking punches than anything and fought inside, but Joe didn’t like it.

Marvis sat quietly as Joe ranted for a good 30 minutes about his credentials and Tyson’s lack of them, his upbringing and toughness, his era of heavyweights and so forth, never once mentioning his son. It became the Joe Frazier Show. Eventually Marvis spoke and conversation shifted toward the fight, though nothing said that day changed the unofficial pre-fight odds, which were firmly in Tyson’s favor.

A crowd of 5,100 at the Glens Falls New York Civic Center braved rain and absurd ticket prices to see if Tyson was a wrecking ball against a famous name. A slight delay between the referee instructions and the beginning of the fight lasted longer than the fight itself, which ended up being one of Tyson’s briefest.

At the opening bell, Tyson immediately put Frazier on the defensive with a series of hooks and uppercuts. Frazier slid along the ropes and avoided punishment, even waving Tyson on as he pulled away. Tyson jabbed as he stepped forward and Frazier backed into a corner with his guard high, unable to see a right uppercut that nearly clipped his head clean off. Frazier’s knees sagged and Tyson connected with three more punches that crumbled him into a pitiful heap just 30 seconds into the fight, ending matters.

Tyson wasted no time calling himself the best fighter around when microphones found him after the fight. Mostly gone was the humble character his team wanted him to project as an up-and-comer, and with D’Amato only a memory, the full force of his brutality could be sent out into the world, beginning with Marvis Frazier.

Oddly, Tyson displayed more concern for Marvis than Joe did for his son. According to The Ring, Joe said: “That’s the way I like to see a man go out. As a gladiator.”

Everyone else accepted the fight for what it was, and that was the son of a legend being used as food for the newest star. Joe Frazier ate his fair share during his time, too. He may not have meant to sacrifice his son for the sake of his old throne, but he did.

Nigel Collins, then editor of The Ring, wrote: “While there are still skeptics like Joe Frazier who refuse to believe Tyson is the real thing, we doubt Marvis is one of them.”