Tweet
Mike Tyson: Crazy and Evil?
MIKE TYSON
Crass or crazy?
GOOD VS. EVIL
He's described as 'an idiot,' 'a circus act killing boxing,' and 'a mentally defective fighter'
Nancy Gay, Chronicle Staff Writer Sunday, June 2, 2002
And so the countdown begins, the days preceding what promises to be the greatest boxing show in the history of the sport. At least that's what those with a stake in Saturday's world heavyweight championship fight will tell you.
Mike Tyson and Lennox Lewis -- combatants, antiheroes, disparate leads in a colossal moneymaking production that increasingly fails to pass as sport -- arrived in sedate Memphis Friday without incident.
This in itself is news.
Though bookies currently laud Lewis, the defending heavyweight champion, as a 2-to-1 favorite in early betting, it's Tyson who draws our attention. We follow him, fascinated, the way we gawk at fender-benders on the freeway.
He's long past the stage of the pugnacious, bedazzling teenager who captured the world's imagination by knocking out Trevor Berbick in 1986 to become the youngest world heavyweight boxing champion.
Since then Tyson, 35, has gone through two very public divorces, spent 3 1/2 years in prison for rape and has been accused many more times of the same crime by other women. He served jail time for beating two elderly men following a minor traffic accident in Maryland.
Oh yeah, and then there's the boxing stuff. Tyson cemented his legacy by feasting on Evander Holyfield's ears. But he also tried to break Francois Botha's arm in the ring in 1999. He tested positive for marijuana following his fight against Andrew Golota two years ago. He hit Orlin Norris after the bell later that year and attacked the referee in his 2000 bout against Lou Savarese.
Minutes after that victory, Tyson exploded, saying he wanted to eat Lewis' children. "I want to rip his heart out and feed it to him," Tyson said of the man he'll finally face in less than a week.
The nearly $300 million Tyson has earned in the ring is in the hands of others, squandered thanks to unscrupulous handlers and Iron Mike's own admitted recklessness.
"I'm a foolish man," Tyson says. "Oh no, I don't take no goddamned responsibility. I'm the most irresponsible person in the world."
Problem is, millions of dollars ride on his promise to step into the ring Saturday night at about 8 o'clock PDT, and to settle the score with Lewis. With Tyson, it's never a sure thing.
Why, in the past two months, Tyson has had to fend off two more rape allegations and another strip-club fracas just to get this far. Which is why his people have had him sequestered on the island of Maui, "away from the media and the street life that you try to keep fighters away from," says Tyson's co-trainer, Ronnie Shields.
Even in Hawaii, Tyson told a female TV reporter he typically has sex with women who interview him. As for the other reporters assembled there, he offered to stomp on their children's testicles, "so you could feel my pain because that's the pain I have waking up every day."
Says Lewis: "The guy is an idiot. He has no sense."
Tyson's own trainers, Shields and Stacey McKinley, warned promoters to sign a strong referee to keep their fighter under control during the bout. That chore falls to 6-foot-5-inch Eddie Cotton, who once spent eight years policing inmates in the ring in New Jersey prisons.
In the proverbial war of good vs. evil, Lewis sees himself as the one wearing a halo. "I have to take him out to help clean up boxing," proclaims Lewis, who stands to earn a guaranteed $25 million for defending his heavyweight titles. "The way I look at it, the good guy has to win on June 8."
Some in boxing, not surprisingly, those with no financial stake in the outcome, wonder why Tyson -- deemed morally and financially bankrupt -- is getting this opportunity at all.
"He's a circus act and he's killing boxing," Oscar De La Hoya says. "He's disgusting. It's sad and depressing. There are so many good boxers and he ruins it for everybody."
"Everybody is paying money to see a mentally defective fighter," boxing promoter Bob Arum says. "My hope is that Tyson gets blown away by Lennox and he just fades out of boxing."
Perhaps the public is growing wary, too.
Wednesday, 3,500 tickets to the supposedly sold-out show at the 19,000-seat Pyramid Arena were suddenly made available to the general public, to be sold through Ticketmaster. Sales in the United Kingdom haven't been as brisk as expected, even with adopted son Lewis in the ring.
While promoters are quick to blame Great Britain's involvement in the World Cup, ticket brokers worldwide concede that Memphis pales against Las Vegas as a destination for high rollers who can fork over $2,400 for available ringside seats.
The doubt persists. Is boxing's most infamous ex-con, with all his disturbing bluster and breakdowns, satisfying the voyeur in us? Or is he simply manipulating us?
The buildup has moved toward this crescendo because it almost never came to be. Tyson-Lewis was originally scheduled for April 6 in Las Vegas. When the two fighters erupted in a chair-throwing brawl in New York in late January, the long-anticipated event looked dicey.
When Tyson bit Lewis on the thigh, postured menacingly on stage, grabbed his crotch and hurled pornographic insults at the audience, Las Vegas' greatest payday in five years was a goner.
Amazingly, it was Sin City and the pleasure-loving state of Nevada that became the nation's conscience, killing the fight on its soil when the state's athletic commission voted 4-1 to deny Tyson's license bid.
Marc Ratner, the executive director of the commission who did not have a vote, isn't surprised by Tyson's recent outbursts. "I think that just sells the pay-per-view," he says. "It's crass or whatever, but it's part of it."
And while the more stand-up inhabitants of the boxing world might bristle at the public's captivation with this man, one former opponent is quick to defend the difference between Iron Mike the boxer and Tyson the perceived victim.
"You got to not look at Tyson like you look at yourself," Holyfield says. "You have to look at Tyson for who Tyson is, how you (and he) were brought up and all that."
Holyfield, of course, will go down in history as Tyson's first bite victim. Twice, he defeated Iron Mike in the ring, once in an 11th-round TKO in 1996, the other in 1997 when an enraged Tyson -- trailing on the scorecards -- chomped down on Holyfield's earlobe and secured a third-round disqualification.
Not that Holyfield necessarily sees that as wrong.
"Shoot, you not in a boxing match, you in a fight," he says. "So what you do in a fight? You'll bite and you'll do anything in a fight because that's not boxing.
"Everybody else do it. Now, if he do it, it's wrong?"
When Tyson did it, the aftermath was a panic-induced, greed-fueled melee in the MGM Grand Casino. People thought they heard gunshots. Fifty people were injured and gambling was halted for several hours because of what was later determined to be the popping of a champagne cork.
Tyson knows he is hated for his lack of civility, and frankly, he doesn't care.
"I know sometimes I say things, I offend people. I ask this lady a lewd question because I'm in a lot of pain, too," Tyson told the reporters in Maui. "I have some pain I'm gonna have for the rest of my life.
"I'm trying to give some of that pain to ya'll. Sometimes you guys have no pride, so no matter what I say -- it doesn't affect you because you don't care about nothing but money."
Which leads us to the soul-searching question: Should we watch?
Even those directly involved in this venture admit to mixed feelings.
"If you were to ask me, I might say (people) should not watch," says Lewis' trainer, Emanuel Steward, perhaps the most genuinely cerebral soul in this visceral sport. "In reality, that is one world. But the other reality is that people like the misfits and the guys who do all these crazy things.
"Look at the wrestling sales. It is unfortunate, but that is a fact and the fact is, this fight will probably be viewed by more people than any event in the history of the world."
Steward might be correct. Showtime has research that indicates interest in the fight surged following the aborted New York news conference.
Tyson, as always, will be the first to tell you why. "I'm just doing my job," he said earlier this month, breaking into a knowing smile. "I wouldn't be making the money I make if I was smart and erudite."
Crass or crazy?
GOOD VS. EVIL
He's described as 'an idiot,' 'a circus act killing boxing,' and 'a mentally defective fighter'
Nancy Gay, Chronicle Staff Writer Sunday, June 2, 2002
And so the countdown begins, the days preceding what promises to be the greatest boxing show in the history of the sport. At least that's what those with a stake in Saturday's world heavyweight championship fight will tell you.
Mike Tyson and Lennox Lewis -- combatants, antiheroes, disparate leads in a colossal moneymaking production that increasingly fails to pass as sport -- arrived in sedate Memphis Friday without incident.
This in itself is news.
Though bookies currently laud Lewis, the defending heavyweight champion, as a 2-to-1 favorite in early betting, it's Tyson who draws our attention. We follow him, fascinated, the way we gawk at fender-benders on the freeway.
He's long past the stage of the pugnacious, bedazzling teenager who captured the world's imagination by knocking out Trevor Berbick in 1986 to become the youngest world heavyweight boxing champion.
Since then Tyson, 35, has gone through two very public divorces, spent 3 1/2 years in prison for rape and has been accused many more times of the same crime by other women. He served jail time for beating two elderly men following a minor traffic accident in Maryland.
Oh yeah, and then there's the boxing stuff. Tyson cemented his legacy by feasting on Evander Holyfield's ears. But he also tried to break Francois Botha's arm in the ring in 1999. He tested positive for marijuana following his fight against Andrew Golota two years ago. He hit Orlin Norris after the bell later that year and attacked the referee in his 2000 bout against Lou Savarese.
Minutes after that victory, Tyson exploded, saying he wanted to eat Lewis' children. "I want to rip his heart out and feed it to him," Tyson said of the man he'll finally face in less than a week.
The nearly $300 million Tyson has earned in the ring is in the hands of others, squandered thanks to unscrupulous handlers and Iron Mike's own admitted recklessness.
"I'm a foolish man," Tyson says. "Oh no, I don't take no goddamned responsibility. I'm the most irresponsible person in the world."
Problem is, millions of dollars ride on his promise to step into the ring Saturday night at about 8 o'clock PDT, and to settle the score with Lewis. With Tyson, it's never a sure thing.
Why, in the past two months, Tyson has had to fend off two more rape allegations and another strip-club fracas just to get this far. Which is why his people have had him sequestered on the island of Maui, "away from the media and the street life that you try to keep fighters away from," says Tyson's co-trainer, Ronnie Shields.
Even in Hawaii, Tyson told a female TV reporter he typically has sex with women who interview him. As for the other reporters assembled there, he offered to stomp on their children's testicles, "so you could feel my pain because that's the pain I have waking up every day."
Says Lewis: "The guy is an idiot. He has no sense."
Tyson's own trainers, Shields and Stacey McKinley, warned promoters to sign a strong referee to keep their fighter under control during the bout. That chore falls to 6-foot-5-inch Eddie Cotton, who once spent eight years policing inmates in the ring in New Jersey prisons.
In the proverbial war of good vs. evil, Lewis sees himself as the one wearing a halo. "I have to take him out to help clean up boxing," proclaims Lewis, who stands to earn a guaranteed $25 million for defending his heavyweight titles. "The way I look at it, the good guy has to win on June 8."
Some in boxing, not surprisingly, those with no financial stake in the outcome, wonder why Tyson -- deemed morally and financially bankrupt -- is getting this opportunity at all.
"He's a circus act and he's killing boxing," Oscar De La Hoya says. "He's disgusting. It's sad and depressing. There are so many good boxers and he ruins it for everybody."
"Everybody is paying money to see a mentally defective fighter," boxing promoter Bob Arum says. "My hope is that Tyson gets blown away by Lennox and he just fades out of boxing."
Perhaps the public is growing wary, too.
Wednesday, 3,500 tickets to the supposedly sold-out show at the 19,000-seat Pyramid Arena were suddenly made available to the general public, to be sold through Ticketmaster. Sales in the United Kingdom haven't been as brisk as expected, even with adopted son Lewis in the ring.
While promoters are quick to blame Great Britain's involvement in the World Cup, ticket brokers worldwide concede that Memphis pales against Las Vegas as a destination for high rollers who can fork over $2,400 for available ringside seats.
The doubt persists. Is boxing's most infamous ex-con, with all his disturbing bluster and breakdowns, satisfying the voyeur in us? Or is he simply manipulating us?
The buildup has moved toward this crescendo because it almost never came to be. Tyson-Lewis was originally scheduled for April 6 in Las Vegas. When the two fighters erupted in a chair-throwing brawl in New York in late January, the long-anticipated event looked dicey.
When Tyson bit Lewis on the thigh, postured menacingly on stage, grabbed his crotch and hurled pornographic insults at the audience, Las Vegas' greatest payday in five years was a goner.
Amazingly, it was Sin City and the pleasure-loving state of Nevada that became the nation's conscience, killing the fight on its soil when the state's athletic commission voted 4-1 to deny Tyson's license bid.
Marc Ratner, the executive director of the commission who did not have a vote, isn't surprised by Tyson's recent outbursts. "I think that just sells the pay-per-view," he says. "It's crass or whatever, but it's part of it."
And while the more stand-up inhabitants of the boxing world might bristle at the public's captivation with this man, one former opponent is quick to defend the difference between Iron Mike the boxer and Tyson the perceived victim.
"You got to not look at Tyson like you look at yourself," Holyfield says. "You have to look at Tyson for who Tyson is, how you (and he) were brought up and all that."
Holyfield, of course, will go down in history as Tyson's first bite victim. Twice, he defeated Iron Mike in the ring, once in an 11th-round TKO in 1996, the other in 1997 when an enraged Tyson -- trailing on the scorecards -- chomped down on Holyfield's earlobe and secured a third-round disqualification.
Not that Holyfield necessarily sees that as wrong.
"Shoot, you not in a boxing match, you in a fight," he says. "So what you do in a fight? You'll bite and you'll do anything in a fight because that's not boxing.
"Everybody else do it. Now, if he do it, it's wrong?"
When Tyson did it, the aftermath was a panic-induced, greed-fueled melee in the MGM Grand Casino. People thought they heard gunshots. Fifty people were injured and gambling was halted for several hours because of what was later determined to be the popping of a champagne cork.
Tyson knows he is hated for his lack of civility, and frankly, he doesn't care.
"I know sometimes I say things, I offend people. I ask this lady a lewd question because I'm in a lot of pain, too," Tyson told the reporters in Maui. "I have some pain I'm gonna have for the rest of my life.
"I'm trying to give some of that pain to ya'll. Sometimes you guys have no pride, so no matter what I say -- it doesn't affect you because you don't care about nothing but money."
Which leads us to the soul-searching question: Should we watch?
Even those directly involved in this venture admit to mixed feelings.
"If you were to ask me, I might say (people) should not watch," says Lewis' trainer, Emanuel Steward, perhaps the most genuinely cerebral soul in this visceral sport. "In reality, that is one world. But the other reality is that people like the misfits and the guys who do all these crazy things.
"Look at the wrestling sales. It is unfortunate, but that is a fact and the fact is, this fight will probably be viewed by more people than any event in the history of the world."
Steward might be correct. Showtime has research that indicates interest in the fight surged following the aborted New York news conference.
Tyson, as always, will be the first to tell you why. "I'm just doing my job," he said earlier this month, breaking into a knowing smile. "I wouldn't be making the money I make if I was smart and erudite."
Comment