,Ei

More documents

Recommendations

Info

Shot by rhot From top, l0nch wlth the D Amato hmlll,; tfie /oung Tyson; winning the WBC tide with Don Klng triinint with D'Amato: Tyson bears r..nK 6runo m rrdri Koorn Givens with TFon in 1988; Tyson and Norris durint th€lr 1999 Rthc Bruno gos down under a T/son barnge in 1996i TFon gets rel€ased from jailin 1995i Tyson tuhbles for his pmshield on hb m/ to defeat ateinst tuiter Dougl6 In l99q Ey.nd€r Holyfield's €ar after m€eting Tyson In | 997 administered by local Vegas wise-guys. It's a tale ofhaving it all and losing it all. At the moment, Tyson is teetering on the edge. There was a time when he captivated boxing fans. He was the greatest heavyweight ofmy generation, winning the undisputed title in such a dynamic, convincing way that you could imagine your children's children talking about him. Ifyou're under 40, you never really had Ali so, when Tyson arrived, he was your man. Now he's veering towards tlle sideshows. The n oted P hiladelp hia Daily Nerr boxing reporter, Bernard Fernandez, explained: "MiIe Tyson is like a fat Elvis... he's not the guy that he was before, but there's still a curiosity factor." The cu osity lingers for complex reasons. Tyson possessed a phenomenal talent: he combined natural gifts (his physique and the mental ability to absorb the technical instructions and his gym-trained attributes) with the discipline of restraining his atracking instincts and subordinating them into technique. This was a complicated strategy that involved as much highly skilled defence work as ferocity. To many, Tyson looked too primal and brutal to be palatable. To the rest of us, he was the genuine article. There are books about him, videos about him. Consume this stuffand you'll realise that at times it's hard to decide whether Tyson drove the media or the media drove Tyson. But it wasn't always like this. As a child-prodigy boxer, the media loved him. He was like a wrecking cartoon. WIen I first saw Harry Carpenter interview him, I vas enthralled. Tyson sat in a darkened room, already looking like a fully-grown man, watching old fight films ofJack Dempsey, RocLy Marciano and Joe Louis. No wonder when he fought at that age his opponents' handlers used to check his birth certificate. He looked like he'd a couple ofgood fights to go before he was due for retirement. At age 13 he weighed 15 stone. But with a broken family and a New York City ghetto upbringing behind him, Mike Tyson was already known to explode in a rage ifanyone called him "Fairy Boy" because ofhis high-pitched, lisping voice. He was shipped out ofBrooklyn by the authorities to reform school in upstate New York. Within montis of fi$t pulling on a pair of boxing gloves, he was ready to start his grisly ascent in what he'd one day ruefully call "a lonely sport". Wrtft I€3r ttan an hour to go, a duor of people cascades into MGM's casino. The PR guys and the hotel managers periodically appear to view this scene ofwalking dollar bills. They know Tyson needs big bucks fast. Glance at tlte heavyweight rankings and you won't see his name there any more. Ten years ago that was unthinkable in boxing. But dings change - $'alls fall, nations unify and even Tyson walked into a right hand. But the memory ofhis lower body launching a left uppercut lingers in the minds of the moneyrnen. Likd a Hollywood sequel, he might have one more title shot left in him. That's why they're paying the unranked Tyson $10m to appear and his opponent a derisory $800,000 to act as a punchbag. Like everything else in this town, it's a gamble. Ifthe fight fans don't corne across with the big (tosing) bets, Tyson is history. So the men in suits watch and wait. As fight time nears, the crowds keep coming; steady, but not overwhelming. Tyson's fight is scheduled for 8pm. nik€ lv8on wa8 onco d|€ iubi€et of an audacious and brilliantly conccived life and career plan. Upstate New York, the area where Tyson grew up and where the plot was hatched, is the antithesis ofthe city from which it takes its name. It's a remote and leafy part ofthe world. Land a black kid from rhe city in the middle ofthis and, depending on his survival skills, he'll either sink or he'll find a way to swim. At reform school, he was spotted by a cop called Bobby Stewart. He took Tyson to the Catskill Boxing Ctub, run by a white-haired trainer called Cus D'Amato. D'Amato took Tyson in to live with him. Tyson became the prot6g6 who exemplified D'Amato's unique hands-up bobbing and weaving style. He forecast, correcdy, that Tyson rvould be tlte heavyweight champion ofthe world. But D'Amato was controlling. He was criticised for unleashing Tyson too fast, oyer-developed as aboxerbut under-developed as man. The wily, brilliant D'Amato spotted the first stirrings ofserpentine discontent in his boy's soul and contrived to slay th€se demons by flinging Tyson into the gym on a daily basis. D'Amato knew that the only person who could ultimately beat Mike Tyson was, in fact, Mike Tyson. "I used to say, 'Cus, I'll sell my soul to be a great fighter.' And he said: 'Be careful what you wish for 'cause you rnight get it, "' mused Tyson not long ago. Like all child prodigies, Mike Tyson could be troublesome. He fell out with another D'Amato prot6g6 Teddy Atlas, who trained Tyson. The rumour is that Tyson groped a young female relative ofhis trainer. D'Amato brought in another ofhis team, the brilliant 100 €.qqrrt. FEBRUARY 2OOO
MIKE TYSON trainer Kevin Rooney, to replace Atlas. Two class-act managers were also brought in:Jim Jacobs and Bill Cayton, both New YorLbased. both with unblemished. unassailable reputations in the frght game. Tyson lived in the gym. The diary ofhis early pro-fights in upstate New York is bewildering.In 1985, he fought 15 times in nine months and won all the contests by knockout. Cus D'Amato died suddenly in 1985. The impact of his death on Tyson must have been terrifying. D'Amato's psychological grip and physical aura were legendary. Tyson had lost his motler a few years earlier; now the person who sincerely believed in him, who had given him some self-esteem, had gone out ofhis life. Years later, the adult Tyson, worth tens of millions ofdollars, one of the most feared and recognised men in the world, would cry like a baby on the shoulder ofa joumalist who interviewed him about D'Amato. "It occurs to me how much more fun it used to be when it wasn't about money so much," said Tyson. "He died and everything became money, rnoney, money." D'Amato and his team had rnapped out a rout€ to the top and Tyson was their willing vehicle to get them there. D'Amato knew that the key to Tyson's success was not so much about rraining his body but getting inside his head. Tyson came to completely trust the old man: he was the one person tlte fatherless Tyson felt had never let him down. Apart ftom the physical lessons he learnt ftom D'Amato, Tyson also absorbed one important rule: trust no one in boxing, possibly in life. With him gone, trusting nobody meant that. at one extreme. he could not build new relationships, personally or professionally. At the other extreme, when he did reach out, he invariably found himself touching the smiling sharts D'Amato had iust started preparing him for l'hen he died. Maybe the rest ofhis life has been a search for another D'Amato. He needed someone to shield him, to keep the rcal world at bay. He knew that he'd become tough to protect the abused wasteland on the inside. He knew that he didn't know how to treat women - he overpowered them. He knew that he was out ofhis depth socially, that he wasn't educated enough. Only when he boxed did he feel worthwhile. In 1986, the heavyweight division was a disaster area. Federations and alleged champions proliferated. Don King, the two-time convict-turned-promoter and ex-numbers boss from Cleveland, dominated the heavyweight division - most ofthe title holders and contenders were under his control. Tyson was firmly in Don King's sights. King had cut a TV heavl"weight-unification tournament deal. He knew the real thing when he saw it - Tyson's raw art ofboxing, his brutally truthful approach, was a magnet to fight fans, and therefore to money. Mike Tyson defeated Trevor Berbick in November 1986 when he was just over 20 years old to win the WBC title and become the youngest ever heavyweight champion ofthe world. For anyone who watched the bout - as I did - the sight ofBerbick trying to stagger like a drunk to his feet signalled the real arrival ofTyson. He'd later say it was the most memorable night ofhis life: 'l soid, "Cus l'll sell my soul to be o greoter fighter." And he soid, "Be coreful whot you wish for'couse you might get it."' not because he was champion ofthe world, but because, "I've never really had people accept me so fully before and haven't really been accepted that way since." Photos in the ring after that fight show Don King standing grinning madly in the back ofthe frame. He was Tyson's future. Satudav night in Lar Uegas and ifr almost time for Tyson to do what he once said he was "born to do". But life is not so simple any more: "Sometimes I get overaggressive with people. People think I'm mean, I'm bad... I don't think I was born bad. We all dictate the direction ofour life. Sometimes we make mistakes that last with us the rest ofou! lives," Tyson recently told USA Today. He sounded almost cont te. Tyson may be waking up to the mess his life is in, but that's not the image the merchandise stand projects. Instead, his "Be Real" logo is emblazoned on everything. We're meant to buy into the myth that he's still a focused, uncomplicated man offew words. That's the image that sells. Here in 1999 Las Vegas it's still 1985 ir Tyson-land. Brutal. Dramatic. Vicious. I walk towards the Grand Garden Arena at 7.30pm. CJowds gather near the enffance to see stars but, after the Holyfield clash (the so-called "Bite-Fight"), few real A-list celebrities want to be seen around Tyson. There was a time when Madonna or Stallone would have been among the spectato$. Not any more. It's mostly the shady unknowns who fly in now - the ones with the attitude and offshore accounts. But, for a few, old habits die hard: John Travolta, Charlie Sheen and Pierce Brosnan all have ringside seats. Security check follows security check as I enter the arena. There were riots after the last Tyson fight here. Tonight, they are taking no chances. Clusters ofbeige-uniformed Las Vegas police are everywhere. Tyson's fight is late; it'll be another hour before he shows up. The crowd becomes restless. There's a buzz in the air, an illicit, semi-seductive, almost-criminal tingle that one veteraniournalist tells me issinplymissing from other heavyweight fights he sees, including Lewis and Holyfield bouts. He's right, I can feel it. Mike Tyson has indeed entered the building. lowaldr drc e||d ot dro <strong>Ei</strong>glraisr it all changed for Tyson. "There was Don King," confided a former associate ofMike Tyson's. "Then there was Robin Givens..." A mid-range actress with a knowing demeanour, Givens ran rings around the FEBRUARY 2000 6quin l0l
Page 1 and 2: l{ t 4,. Et. 1t. - /' "'/y', t, I ,
Page 6: MIKE TYSON Tyson's former troiner s
Page 9 and 10: MIKE TYSON Jersey foundered: Tyson

,Ei

You also want an ePaper? Increase the reach of your titles

Delete template?

Save as template?