That happens in movies a lot more than in real life, where the greatest of fighters tend to find a boxing gym at a young age and where success comes more from hard work than from luck.

Louis famously claimed he kept his amateur career hidden from his beloved mother as long as he could. His Golden Gloves and National AAU titles made it impossible for him to stay completely anonymous, though. Those were days when amateur titles mattered a bit more and actually moved the needle.

Like any high-value heavyweight prospect, Louis was swarmed by businesspeople and investors who recognized his potential. Apart from making his professional debut in front of Jack Johnson, boxing’s first Black world heavyweight champion, Louis’ rise to the throne was typical. He fought hapless pugs, then contenders, then ex-champs. He lost only once, to Max Schmeling, and brutally avenged the loss.

Finally, after 20 years and eight white heavyweight champions, Louis captured boxing’s most coveted prize when he bludgeoned James Braddock, “The Cinderella Man,” in 1937.

The first task for Louis was facing unbelievably tough British heavyweight champion Tommy Farr, who lasted 15 punishing rounds. After that, Louis violently confirmed his right to the throne by razing a portion of the division. He destroyed most of the fighters ranked in the top 10 by The Ring. He brawled with Tony Galento and barely outfought awkward Chilean Arturo Godoy.

Still, many in the sports world predicted Louis’ demise when he was matched with Johnny Paychek for March 29, 1940. The “Bum of the Month” criticism was months away, and most had no issue with Louis’ opposition or performances. It wasn’t Paycheck specifically either. It was simply the odds.

Louis made nine title defenses in under three years. Only 1900s champion Tommy Burns defended the title more times, but he was ousted after two years as champion. Every other previous champion who lasted several years was comparatively inactive. “Champs don’t last long,” wrote the New York Times in the immediate lead-up to Louis-Paychek, and receipts were provided.

The largely white establishment still wanted a white heavyweight champion. Just like in Jack Johnson’s time, talk of a “white hope” escaped the mouths of countless fight pundits. Any white fighter with an outside chance of defeating the Black champion could be a white hope, ready to restore the imaginary, sports-tied dignity of an entire race. A few Midwest newspapers called Paychek a white hope early in his career, but he at least had some credentials.

Paycheck was actually John Pacek, a Chicago fighter with impressive amateur experience himself. He was a good puncher who fought out of Chicago’s Catholic Youth Organization, and he advanced quickly despite finding boxing in his late teens. When the Chicago Tribune charted out a “who’s who of amateur boxing in Chicagoland” in 1933, Paychek was one of four heavyweights featured.

That same year, Paychek won the Chicago Golden Gloves Tournament of Champions and then the Intercity Golden Gloves tournament. Louis followed in Paychek’s footsteps the following year. The obvious difference between the two was that while observers often described Paychek as a good hitter, Louis’ genuine seek-and-destroy style set him apart from most, and it made him a far hotter commodity.

Paychek was nevertheless considered a high-level prospect in Chicago and adopted his fighting name early on in his pro career. From late 1933 to early 1940, Paychek fought to a 44-4-2 record and entered into The Ring’s top 10 ratings at heavyweight. On paper, nothing was wrong with Louis-Paychek, and Paychek may as well have been any top contender.

Over at Pompton Lakes in New Jersey, Paychek trained with Tony Galento and sparred with a variety of heavyweights in front of media observers. He also benefited from former lightweight champion Benny Leonard’s council, as “The Ghetto Wizard” was Paychek’s chief advisor in the gym.

Reporters said Louis appeared to be working on his speed in the gym by ignoring his usual stalking and shuffling motions. At worst, everyone took this matchup seriously and the media covered the training in earnest. Nobody bought into the revived “white hope” talk, though. Pre-fight betting made Louis a 10-to-1 favorite and the fight was officially announced as a benefit for the Finnish Relief Fund, which helped Finland during the Winter War with the Soviet Union.

When the bell at Madison Square Garden rang out and the crowd of about 11,600 finally quieted down, Paychek was reduced to a jittery, twitchy heavyweight. Just another victim for Joe Louis to dispatch. The jab reporters praised during Paychek’s training was all but gone and whatever footwork or skills won him amateur titles were scared out of him.

A combination against the ropes just seconds into the fight sent Paychek down in a heap. He was up at the count of nine only to be attacked again and beaten to the canvas once more, this time with a sweeping left hook. Paychek steadied himself on the lowest rope, his balding head lowered as he seemed to consider the consequences for facing this cruel and powerful champion.

Paychek beat the count and, to his credit, he fought back, even landing a few good body shots. Another right hand put him back on the deck, however. He got up and was spared by the bell to end Round 1, but only temporarily.

No advice from Benny Leonard, as great as he once was, would get Paychek through this. Round 2 began and Paychek immediately jabbed and moved. It wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t steady either and there was little smooth movement. So Louis lined him for a whistling right hand that flattened him. Referee Arthur Donovan issued a useless count as Paychek waved him away, clearly conveying that he was done for.

Ring announcer Harry Balogh called the result out to the crowd, who let out a mixture of boos and cheers.

Nat Fleischer, head honcho at The Ring, wrote: “Every sparring mate of the Bomber gave a better performance during Joe’s training sessions than did the man who was shortly to collect almost $10,000 for doing nothing.”

The early destruction of Paychek became Louis’ seventh defense to end in five rounds or less. It was great news for the champion, but the sport had a problem: there weren’t any clear challengers for a dominant heavyweight champ, and the criticism could only be held at bay by easy, vicious public floggings for so long.

It wasn’t Louis’ fault he struck fear into the hearts of most heavyweights. Even now, almost 90 years later, Louis is still one of boxing’s greatest combination punchers regardless of division, and many history types call him the greatest heavyweight ever. Few knew it at the time of the Paychek fight, unfortunately.

Though the narrative usually paints Louis as a 124-second hero following his obliteration of Max Schmeling in their 1938 rematch, “The Brown Bomber” actually needed dominance and longevity to fully convince the masses. By now, Paychek is just one more opponent mowed down by the great Joe Louis, and therefore easily overlooked. But at one point, somebody somewhere thought Paychek would be the one to unseat Louis.

Louis was simply too good for all of that.