THERE IS always the picture, the one with Muhammad Ali sitting on the stool in his corner, exhausted, with towels draped over his head, unable to come out for the 11th round against Larry Holmes in 1980.

The image always comes back, like when Michael Jordan fails to get enough elevation for a dunk or when Cal Ripken didn't have enough mobility to go in the hole at shortstop. Ali had an enormous amount of energy throughout his career, yet in the end, not enough to move his little finger.

If anyone caught Evander Holyfield's International Boxing Federation heavyweight title fight against Chris Byrd on Saturday night, you felt for Holyfield, 40, one of boxing's all-time great warriors, as you did for Ali, who last fought in December 1981.

Byrd embarrassed Holyfield in the lopsided unanimous decision and made him look both young and old - like an amateur because of the number of punches he missed, and an aging fighter because Holyfield couldn't put together four or five punches without looking for oxygen.

In Holyfield's heyday, Byrd might have lasted two rounds.

Instead, Byrd, 32, taunted Holyfield by sticking out his tongue and ducking behind Holyfield when he swung wildly. CompuBox statistics showed Byrd throwing 747 punches to 344 for Holyfield, and landing 252 of them to 102 for the former four-time champion.

And that's why there is so much concern for Holyfield these days. He is catching more than he is pitching, having won only two of his past seven fights. To say he needs to retire is an understatement. Boxing has become extremely hazardous to his health.

This could be Ali all over again.

"He should have retired five years ago. If that doesn't tell you everything, then I don't know what does," Ferdie Pacheco, Ali's former doctor, said of Holyfield.

Pacheco advised Ali to quit in 1974 after the title fight with George Foreman. Ali, instead, became a human punching bag for seven more years.

"It's the same thing," Pacheco said in comparing Holyfield with Ali. "He's worn out. He's taking his beatings. Now comes the beatings that will give him the injuries that will have him walking and talking like Ali. If he keeps on going, he can go over and check out his friend Ali to see what he is going to look like."

It's cold, but that's the reality of a brutal sport like boxing. Jordan can survive in basketball because he still has a jump shot. Oakland Raiders quarterback Rich Gannon can be successful because football is a team sport, and there is protective gear.

In boxing, life can be halted with one punch. Holyfield has no protection. His legs are tired, his reflexes slow. If Byrd, a skilled, slick defensive fighter, punched with any power, Holyfield might just be waking up this morning.

Maybe next time he won't be so lucky.

After the fight, Holyfield said that he had no plans to retire and that he was ineffective because of a shoulder injury, a possible damaged rotator cuff.

That's what he doesn't need, another excuse to return to the ring.

"I can see Evander using this as a rationale or an excuse rather than age," said boxing historian Bert Sugar, a close friend of Holyfield's. "You could see he was tired, winded, and he missed so many punches that he threw out his shoulder."

There's no need for Holyfield to put himself through this. His legacy as one of the toughest heavyweights ever is secure. He never ducked anyone. He beat Mike Tyson, survived the trilogy with Riddick Bowe and fought in five of the 10 all-time highest performing pay-per-view bouts. Holyfield was a fan favorite because he always gave them their money's worth.

Is he dirty?

Sure, he has sharp elbows and is the king of head butts.

But this is boxing, remember. Don King runs the sport.

But like most great athletes, Holyfield can't let go. He wants to become the first five-time heavyweight champion of the world.

"I'm concerned because he doesn't have to do this," Sugar said. "You're either fighting because of two reasons; for the money and you have to come back and you stay too long; or you miss, as Ray Leonard will tell you, the roar of the crowd. But Evander seems to have inserted a third reason into the equation - his ambitions, no matter how unrealistic.

"He doesn't need the money and he's such a quiet man I don't think he needs the roar. It's an inner drive. So many people in his youth told him that he couldn't that he continuously tries to prove that he can."

Ego is involved, too. Holyfield has a strict training regimen and because the heavyweight division is loaded with no-names, he believes he can handle most of the field. But he must be choosy now. He needs an opponent to press him, to stalk him.

Then he can counter, find the exact moment when he can measure his foe and deliver a big blow that can be followed up with three or four punches. Holyfield can't be the stalker, can't go on the offensive. Not enough energy.

See Chris Byrd.

As a small heavyweight, Holyfield already has taken a lot of punishment. It will be twofold if he continues to fight in the twilight of his career, much more than Ali absorbed throughout his career.

But it doesn't have to be this way. All Holyfield has to do is look back on the picture of Ali sitting on the stool in the corner and then remember that Ali took one more vicious beating from a journeyman named Trevor Berbick before he retired.

And he can look at Ali now.

"His strict training regimen gives him great confidence," Sugar said of Holyfield. "The only thing is that he is 40 years old. You can't put into a body what isn't there. The sand is beginning to go to the bottom of his hourglass."