Color barriers in the major sports were broken long ago. Once Jackie Robinson crossed baseball's line in 1947, lines in other sports quickly began to blur.

While the playing fields still aren't totally level, race isn't given nearly as much thought in today's sports world. Blacks are generally well-represented and make as much money, if not more, than whites in most sports.

	White fighters used to get breaks because of racism. Hall of Fame trainer Eddie Futch says today it's because they're a novelty.

But boxing does have another color barrier, one not talked about as openly as the one shattered by Joe Louis 10 years before Robinson donned his Brooklyn Dodgers duds.

In an ironic twist, with the sport dominated by black athletes, trainers and even promoters, the racial issue at hand is the boxing community's fascination with finding the next "Great White Hope."

There hasn't been a widely accepted white heavyweight champion since Rocky Marciano retired in 1952. And there hasn't been a legitimate Great White Hope since 1982, when Gerry Cooney lost to Larry Holmes in one of the most highly publicized events in sports history. And because people want that barrier to be broken so badly, there's a lot of money in being a white heavyweight contender.

"I had the occasion to talk to Gerry Cooney recently," said legendary trainer Eddie Futch, who was in Holmes' corner in 1982. "And I told him if I would have had him, with the talent and the power and the tremendous left hook he had, he would have been the richest athlete ever imagined."

Futch, who has trained 22 world champions, claimed Cooney's handlers were happy their man merely was a decent white fighter, therefore an automatic moneymaker.

"I would have brought out so much more," Futch said.

Cooney doesn't appreciate the "Great White Hope" tag, but he can't deny there was an unwanted, but significant, outside influence on him because of his skin color.

"It's dumb people" who take race under consideration, Cooney said. "In some ways people in the promotion created that to make money, and people in the public took hold of it.

"I would get crazy mail. When that whole thing was going on there was a certain element of society that was hooking into it and that was a scary thing. I would get pictures of people with a swastika on their heads."

While that was nearly 20 years ago, Futch stated that concessions still are made today to put white fighters in striking range of a title. It's a matter of white fighters getting preferential treatment not because they are in the majority, but because they are a novelty.

"Some of that's still around," said Futch, who at 88 still remembers days when he was asked to drink his coffee outside the restaurant so he wouldn't be in the company of white customers.

Times have changed so much that during a recent contract dispute with HBO, WBC super featherweight champion Floyd Mayweather Jr. called a seven-fight, $12.5 million proposal "slave wages."

It would be interesting to hear what Sam Langford, Sam McVey, Harry Wills and Joe Jeanette, great heavyweight fighters of the early-1900s who never received title shots because they were black, would think of Mayweather's comment.

Today, of the 45 different champions that sit atop the three major organizations -- WBA, WBC, IBF -- white fighters, especially those from the U.S., are the minority.

Nineteen champions are black, with 15 hailing from the U.S. Ten are Hispanic, with two from the U.S. Nine are native Asians. Only seven are Caucasian, with IBF lightweight champ Paul Spadafora the lone American.

In the six weight divisions under 122 pounds, there are no whites at all, American or otherwise.

IBF middleweight champ Bernard Hopkins wishes the ranks were more balanced, because he recognizes the value of a white-black matchup.

"I'm a little envious, because I don't have somebody in my weight class with an opposite race," said Hopkins, who is black. "If there were top fighters of opposite races at the top of every weight class, boxing would be a lot better today. People would look forward to every fight.

"Any good black fighter against a good white fighter today, and both had names, it would be a jam-packed sellout. It always sells. There's a rivalry that we are better than you and we will beat you. It's a pride thing."

Trainer Lou Duva, who is in the International Boxing Hall of Fame alongside Futch, doesn't think it's healthy to acknowledge skin color.

"Any fellow out there trying to make a difference between whites and blacks needs to ask himself 'Am I thinking right?' " said Duva, who trains IBF junior welterweight champ Zab Judah and handled all-time great Pernell Whitaker. "It's about talent."

Hopkins (36-2-1, 27 KOs), however, doesn't view his words as prejudiced, and he insists he isn't anti-white.

"There's always going to be racism, whether it's in sports or real life," Hopkins said. "I don't think it's bad. As long as it's not taken to extremes, it's healthy."

Duva points to the globalization of boxing as a driving force in removing the color lines from the sport. He noted his stable includes fighters from Ghana, Nigeria and South Africa.

"With the advent of cable and satellite television, the world is getting closer and closer," Duva said. "It's not just going to be the USA anymore. There will be more interaction all over the world."

But as it stands right now, few can deny that today's top black boxers would be much more marketable if they were white.

"If Roy Jones Jr. was Caucasian where he lives in Pensacola, Fla.? If he was Roy Makowski Jr.? Now he's at a whole different level," Hopkins said. "People will pay that extra money to the white guy to fight.

"Tyson would be unreal (if he were white). It would be a situation where Tyson would have made double, quadruple. He'd be on every commercial. You see what they're doing with De La Hoya. Can you imagine if he were white? He'd be even huger.

"If I was an Italian in South Philly, there'd be a lot more support and respect from the media world and boxing world, because becoming a champion is not done every day by a Caucasian."