Devon Larratt keeps getting called stronger, and somebody always points at Levan Saginashvili like the comparison police just arrived.

Levan looks strong in the obvious way. The hand, the wrist, the frame, the fingers, the whole table presence. He looks like a man designed by a bored engineer who got paid by the kilogram.

Devon looks different. Less like a mountain. More like a trap with a beard.

Devon’s Strength Is Positional

The useful version of Devon’s strength lives in ugly places. High pronation when his wrist looks threatened. Back pressure when his elbow angle looks stretched. A riser that only has to survive long enough to keep the hand from fully collapsing.

That kind of strength can confuse people. It does not always show up as a clean surge. It shows up when the opponent hits, pauses, and realizes the match has become sticky.

The Vitaly match made that clear. Vitaly had the scarier frame. Devon had the better answer once the match slowed and the strap turned every tiny angle into a bill.

This is why Devon’s late-career climb feels so strange. He keeps adding usable strength rather than cosmetic strength.

Levan Owns The Full Package

Levan still represents the cleanest complete strength profile in the sport. His hand contains. His cup holds. His back pressure does not ask for sympathy. When he transitions to the press, the table suddenly feels too small.

Devon can become stronger for five years and still look physically outgunned beside that. The point is the kind of strength he chases.

His Levan preparation would need a narrow kind of improvement. A little more riser survival. A little more shoulder safety when Levan comes forward. A little more ability to keep the hand meaningful after the first surge.

Those inches matter. Against Levan, inches become rounds only if they last.

The Old Man Strength Joke Misses It

People call it old man strength because that phrase feels easy. Devon has something sharper. He has old match strength. Thousands of starts. Thousands of arguments over thumbs, webbing, elbows, straps, and where a referee’s patience ends.

That stuff becomes neurological. He knows when to spend. He knows when to look beaten. He knows when an opponent’s hand feels proud but empty.

The late-career Devon story works because he keeps joining strength to timing. He is not chasing Levan’s shape. He is building a version of himself that can force monsters to pull badly for longer than they planned.