He was understood, however reductively, as a human animal sprung from a New York shithole, and this story was easily graspable for anyone desirous of a dramatic narrative. Tyson’s fighting style, physical looks, and background held a digestible appeal. A great fighter’s esteem, I would argue, is proportional to how consistently his comportment, in and out of the ring, reaffirms the public’s perception of him. For those still seduced by his snarl, any deviation from this model represents a betrayal of his template.Īny understanding of Tyson’s popularity, which was a genuine phenomenon, must proceed from a consideration of how fame is manufactured. Mike created an archetype, both for what a heavyweight should look like and how a heavyweight should fight. They are awed by his menace, and the availability of vintage Tyson footage on YouTube ensures their understanding of him can draw from a bottomless well of evidence. Many people, most of whom don’t follow boxing closely, still regard Tyson as the benchmark from which to judge other heavyweights. Buster Douglas gave Mike an ass-kicking, but regardless of how forcefully he destabilized the Tyson myth, it still persisted, and, I would argue, endures to this day. Whether he was out of shape, unfocused, or betrayed by his unruly personal life that day in Tokyo makes little difference. People who followed Tyson’s career closely knew he’d regressed by the time he fought Douglas. A terrified Bruno falls to Tyson in 1996. Bruno, himself a believer in Tyson’s indomitability, crossed himself several times before the opening bell, but the deity he appealed to failed to save him, while its dark counterpart, standing in the opposite corner, collected his head. Two fights later Tyson knocked out Frank Bruno to regain a world championship. McNeeley was a sacrificial lamb slaughtered at the altar of the Tyson myth, and Mike received a resounding ovation during Jimmy Lennon Jr.’s long ring introduction his disciples, unbothered by his sins, had returned to revel in his darkness. The bout was not legitimate, insofar as ‘legitimate’ implies both boxers having a chance to win. At that point, it was the biggest event in television history. Tyson spent some forty months in prison and went over four years without a bout, but when he returned he was paid a staggering $25 million to box a club-level fighter named Peter McNeeley. Meanwhile, Mike fought four more times and then was convicted of rape almost two years from the day he was routed in the Tokyo Dome. He then retired to Florida where his weight ballooned dangerously and he ended up in a diabetic coma. Douglas became an afterthought when he was knocked out by Evander Holyfield in his next match. In the years following the night when Buster Douglas sent Mike Tyson sprawling on the canvas to grope for his mouthpiece, both men endured their share of problems. In spite of the loss, fans never wanted to stop believing in Mike Tyson, and this may be the fight’s true legacy. More fascinating than even the result was how, despite the truth it revealed about Tyson’s fallibility, it did little to dissuade boxing fans from reveling in the myth of “Iron Mike.” It’s often said that Tyson’s mystique evaporated that day, but this is clearly untrue. To me, ‘legacy’ implies something tangible, a custom that’s survived into subsequent generations, but the legacy of Douglas vs Tyson, the greatest upset in boxing history, feels more abstract. What is the legacy of James “Buster” Douglas’ astonishing knockout of Mike Tyson? Perhaps an impossible question to answer, though we’ve had more than three decades to digest its effects.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |