On February 16, 1986 I was watching ABC's Wide World of Sports. The TV Guide promised a boxing match that I would not miss. Sports Illustrated had just featured a teenage boxer from Brooklyn, New York whom they called "Kid Dynamite." I was enamored by the cover photograph. He was a muscular spark plug in boxing gloves. His gold-tooth grin leered at me. The article praised his ruth-less combinations of power and speed. I had to see for myself who this "Kid Dynamite" was.

He entered the ring in only his trunks, shoes and a towel. The highlights ABC showed before the bout demonstrated a relentless warrior who wasn't satisfied until his opponent was obliterated. In his network television debut, the anticipation was over. I was finally able to watch "Kid Dynamite," aka Mike Tyson, do his thing. Six rounds and many devastating combinations later, the referee stopped the fight. Tyson turned from the warrior he could be, to the kid he was, jumping around the ring ecstatically. He chirped in the post-fight interview that he wanted to become the youngest Heavy-weight Champion ever.

When I was eleven years old, Mike Tyson became my hero in sports.

Mike Tyson won his first 19 bouts by knockout, twelve in the first round. In the summer of 1986, Tyson was to box his first "name" opponent, Marvis Frazier. Frazier was ranked 9th in the world and his father/trainer was a boxing legend (former Heavyweight Champion Joe Frazier). It took Tyson 17 seconds to earn an impressive knockout victory. He seemed invincible. I remember my Father, a vocal boxing fan, could only mutter, "Awesome!" In an era when the heavyweight division was cluttered with bores like Trevor Berbick, Michael Spinks, and Tim Witherspoon, Mike Tyson brought an energy and excitement that revitalized the sport.

Tyson was dubbed a brawler: a kid from Brooklyn who brought his street-fighting skills into the ring. Savvy boxing writers of the time latched onto a different story though. They profiled a Mike Tyson whose every breath was boxing. Jim Jacobs, Tyson's manager, owned the largest private collection of boxing matches on film. The story was that Tyson, after spending all day conditioning his body, would spend all night holed-up watching the films. Tyson's trainer Cus D'Amato regimented this lifestyle that only consisted of boxing and training. D'Amato was a masterful trainer with two world champions (Floyd Patterson and Jose Torres) to his credit. Tyson, however, was to be his masterpiece. Stepping into the ring, Tyson didn't wear a flashy robe, or even socks for that matter. He was a recluse, rarely in the public eye except when it came time to box. Emerging was an image of Mike Tyson: ascetic of boxing. It was an easy image to believe in.

His fundamental skills were magnificent. Each punch Tyson threw was designed to create opportunities for the next punch. By cutting-off the ring, Tyson would maneuver his opponent against the ropes. Typically (in his earlier years), Tyson would start with a jab to the head. When the opponent moved his hands up, Tyson would follow with a right-hook to the body. The opponent would crouch down from the force of the blow and Tyson would un-leash a right upper-cut, popping the opponent's head above the guard of his fists. A left hook would slam across the exposed chin. These were not just punches thrown in a fight. These were honed com-binations that were executed with perfection.

When an opponent had the gumption to retaliate, they often found Tyson's thick frame re-markably elusive. Tyson had great movement in both his upper and lower body. His timing and his ability to read the opponent's attack enabled him to slip punches easily. His constant lateral movement made opponents swing and miss desperately. He wasn't a "hot dog"-style fighter who carried his guard lazily low. Tyson kept his fists parked right next to his chin, and in an era of "Macho" Camachos and Sugar Ray Leonards, this made him a throw back.

Tyson was the real deal. He had the skills, the physical strength, the instincts, and the discipline to sit atop the Heavyweight throne for as long as he wished. He seemed destined to go down in history as one of the greatest champions boxing has ever known.

Of course, it's hard to believe any of that now. The image of Mike Tyson as an ascetic of boxing is quite laughable. Now, with only a fragile hold on his own self-control, Tyson has become a media fixture better known for his assault charges, his rape conviction, and cannibalism.

Nonetheless, "Kid Dynamite" is back. On October 19, to the surprise of no one, Mike Tyson's license to box in the state of Nevada was reinstated. The now infamous biting incident is perhaps one of the most desperate and vile moves ever seen in professional sports, and yet, in the name of mega-million dollar boxing deals, it has been all but forgiven.

Hardly the recluse he once was, the public has been thoroughly exposed to Mike Tyson. To have his license reinstated, Tyson had to undergo a series of psychological evaluations. The resulting report has been made available to the public. Dr. Thomas J. Deter, one of the evaluating psychologists concluded that Tyson has, "exclusive control deficits. Individuals with [his] neurobehavioral profile often have difficulties with impulse control, inhibition of behavior, judgment, and rapid decision making... With deterioration in his mood, he is likely to be more susceptible to acting on impulse and showing poor judgment." Or, in paraphrasing Mike Tyson from a volatile interview in this November's issue of Playboy: "It's just a matter of time until I blow-up."

Blow-up? As he is alleged to have done in Gaithersburg, Maryland last August where, after being in a fender-bender, Tyson punched one man and kicked another in the groin? Or blow-up like he did in his fight against Holyfield? Whatever Tyson's potential for mayhem is, the psychological evaluation somehow concluded that he is "mentally fit" to return to the ring. And return he will.

Currently, the rumor is that Tyson will fight South African palooka Francois Botha in January. Not only do I find it highly questionable that the sport of boxing should allow Tyson to fight again, I think it is amazing that Tyson is even allowed to walk the streets free. Isn't the biting incident and the assault in Maryland a parole violation stemming from his rape conviction? Bud Geracie, a sports writer for the San Jose Mercury News has argued repeatedly that Tyson's Playboy interview alone should be enough evidence to have him locked-up again. As Tyson said, "It's just a matter of time until I blow-up." Read this again: He's unstable and pissed!

Mike Tyson has not been the quality of fighter described earlier for some time. With more of a rush-clutch-retreat mentality, Tyson is now an easier fighter to hit. No longer unleashing combinations, Tyson now relies on the power of a single blow to win the fight. Sadly, this is probably enough to win one of the "alphabet soup" Championship belts, but it doesn't provide the excitement that was once expected when Mike Tyson stepped into the ring. If Botha is Tyson's next opponent, fans shouldn't expect a show any more entertaining than Peter McNeely could provide. Fight fans will nonetheless flock to their pay-per-view boxes, not expecting a great fight, but to watch a tormented man exorcise his demons with dilapidated skills. Or possibly, if Botha is able to surprise Tyson with some offense of his own, if he is able to put the fear of losing back into Tyson's head, maybe Tyson will again "act on impulse and show poor judgment." It now seems that people watch Tyson fight, not to watch the sport of boxing, but to see what atrocity he will commit next. A photo recently published in Sports Illustrated shows Mike Tyson mockingly biting at a small child. Whether or not Tyson is capable of understanding how horrible his action was, he clearly understands the public's morbid fascination with him. Given the proper circumstances - Tyson losing, Tyson frustrated, Tyson needing more attention - he will revert to a similar stunt.

If a psychological evaluation finds that Tyson is mentally fit to box, if the fans will pay to watch, if an opponent is willing to step into the ring against Tyson, why shouldn't the Nevada State Athletic Commission sanction the event? We are talking about the sport of boxing here: morals have never interfered with a good payday. Needless to say, Mike Tyson is no longer a hero of mine. He didn't develop into the cultural icon his predecessors like Jack Johnson, Joe Louis and Muhammad Ali were/are. I can only wish he retires before his legacy is so chalked full of blemishes that nobody will remember that a fighter from Brooklyn known as "Kid Dynamite" once brought an element of greatness to the heavyweight division.

Copyright © 1998-2006 TheSimon.com
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