Gervonta Davis is an undeniably bad man.

Or, in boxing parlance... a baaaad man.

He fights with a fury reminiscent of those who came decades before, tenaciously engaging in games of violent pursuit and capture until inevitably – at least so far – his hand is raised.

And the fact that he's promoted by an outfit with the name "Mayweather" attached means he'll surely find himself in competitive showcase spots for as long as he remains successful.

A Saturday night stoppage of Mario Barrios was the latest demonstration of his skills, with Davis cutting and dropping his man in the middle rounds before ultimately getting the finish in Round 11.

It was impressive by any measure. 

Particularly because Barrios was an unbeaten and credible, if not exactly Canastota-worthy, opponent and the winner was four pounds heavier than he’d come in for any previous fight. 

OK… now that that’s out of the way, a disclaimer.

If you’re determined at this point to interpret anything less than hero worship as "hate," don't bother. 

Instead, perhaps spend some time working on comprehension – or maybe get some self-esteem therapy to understand exactly why you get so upset when someone dares not to agree with you.

Based on some occasional quick glances at Twitter, it might take a few sessions.

But anyway, we digress.

While conceding that Davis is a rugged, entertaining, charismatic and successful fighter, there’s something – even after the Barrios destruction – that he most certainly is not.

A three-division world champion.

And with all due respect to my good friends at Showtime, the press release that came out shortly after the network’s pay-per-view show ended was everything that’s wrong with boxing in 2,000 words.

Particularly these 30: 

“With the victory, Davis now holds world championships in three different divisions simultaneously, a feat only accomplished by a few other fighters in history, including Henry Armstrong and Canelo Alvarez.”

Yes. They went there.

Though I’ll leave a full-throated, properly referenced retort to the Armstrong/Alvarez suggestion to colleagues who’ve got both more historical knowledge and more time on their hands, I’m happy to bag some low-hanging fruit when it comes to the dubious claim that Davis even belongs in their club.

He doesn’t. And they know it.

Which makes it even more disappointing that they’d regurgitate it.

While Davis can claim WBA hardware at 130, 135 and 140 pounds, it takes no more than a cursory scan of the organization’s website to see his new belt at super lightweight – not to mention the previously won bauble at lightweight – are not the premier pieces of jewelry recognized at the Panamanian HQ.

Teofimo Lopez is the WBA’s “super” champion at 135 and Josh Taylor holds the same status at 140, meaning Davis – to anyone with anything close to the sport’s best interests at heart – is a legitimate top-shelf contender to both champions, but has no competitive right to use the term to describe himself.

Check the records, folks.

Lopez won his title by beating Vasyl Lomachenko.

Josh Taylor won his by beating Regis Prograis and legitimized it by toppling Jose Ramirez.

It’s inarguable that the existence of super, world, franchise and whatever else champions is ridiculous in the first place. Recognize whatever organizations you like, but when you start handing out belts for beating guys who aren’t even the top guns in your own rankings, you’ve crossed an uncrossable line.  

And for anyone to operate otherwise, regardless of position, is far worse.

So, to call Davis a three-division champion is a slap in the face to Lopez and Taylor – not to mention Armstrong and Alvarez – and regardless of what network or streaming service they perform on, it’s beneath Showtime to play that game.

But they’re not the only ones.

Plenty of folks who share my vocation have tripped over themselves to get in the parade, too, dutifully filling the hours between composing pithy acronyms and critiquing water pressure in fight city hotels.

Oh sure, they’ll wax poetic on off-weeks about sanctioning bodies being the scourge of society and the glut of title belts making it impossible for casual fans to recognize top fighters, but when it comes to a Saturday night at ringside it’s a race to come up with the most breathless 280 characters.

Regardless of what the words mean the next day.

And no, you can’t hide behind Leonard Ellerbe.

Even the Mayweather Promotions cheerleader-in-chief recognized Taylor as the “undisputed” champion at 140 during fight week, while simultaneously tapping out of a winner-take-all showdown with his man because, in his estimation, the Scotsman “means nothing” as an attraction in the United States.

Ellerbe’s a businessman. A damned good one, in fact. 

So while I loathe the idea that he’d lean on crowd numbers as a reason to skip a fight, I get it. 

That’s his job.

It’s the job of the journalists who cover the fights and the networks who broadcast the fights – even as they work alongside the promotional companies and their clearly vested interests – to provide a counterbalance to Ellerbe and poke holes when his hyperbolic balloons get a little too full of hot air.

Based on their performances last weekend, a lot of folks need some sharper tools.

* * * * * * * * * *

This week’s title-fight schedule: 

No title fights scheduled.

Last week's picks: 1-0 (WIN: Martinez) 

2021 picks record: 26-7 (78.7 percent) 

Overall picks record: 1,182-382 (75.5 percent) 

NOTE: Fights previewed are only those involving a sanctioning body's full-fledged title-holder – no interim, diamond, silver, etc. Fights for WBA "world championships" are only included if no "super champion" exists in the weight class. 

Lyle Fitzsimmons has covered professional boxing since 1995 and written a weekly column for Boxing Scene since 2008. He is a full voting member of the Boxing Writers Association of America. Reach him at fitzbitz@msn.com or follow him on Twitter – @fitzbitz.