By Norm Frauenheim –
Mike Tyson has been making a fool out of himself and just about everybody around him for decades. Maybe, he’ll do it again, making a fool out of Jake Paul and the rest of us who believe he shouldn’t be in a traditional boxing ring against anybody anywhere.
Any more.
But, of course, he will be Friday night on the Cowboys home field in Texas in front of an expected crowd of 80,000 and who-knows-how-many from Netflix’s subscriber population of 287.2 million, millions more than the nearly 150 million who voted in the recent presidential election.
Don’t call it a fight, although the Texas Department of Licensing & Regulation elected to do so, but only after adding four ounces to the usual 10-ounce gloves while reducing the number of scheduled rounds from 10 to eight and subtracting a minute from each round, from three to two.
Texas, like Netflix, knows a money-maker when it sees one. In this transactional era, traditional rules and regs are just some of the numbers that can be adjusted if the projected financials are big enough. They are.
Reportedly, Paul will walk away with $40-million, a purse that might make the accomplished Canelo Alvarez — the only traditional boxer left among the wealthy athletes near the top of Forbes’ annual rating — wonder if he’s in the wrong game.
But Tyson-Paul isn’t about boxing, although boxing surely wishes it was. Does anybody in the Tyson-Paul audience plan to watch the Oleksandr Usyk-Tyson Fury heavyweight rematch next month? Guess here: Very few. Truth is, very few probably even know it’s happening.
Usyk-Fury is a real fight. It’s intriguing, but only for a shrinking demographic that still enjoys a craft historically defined as The Sweet Science. Nothing about the 58-year-old Tyson versus a 27-year-old Paul figures to be sweet or scientific.
It’s spectacle, a Tyson speciality. It also happens to be the only thing about Tyson that hasn’t eroded over the decades. He’s feared for his punching power, and perhaps some of that is still there. It’s the last thing to go.
But the real power, the most durable element in Tyson’s skillset — is his ongoing ability to create the kind of anticipation that precedes a spectacle and sometimes an accident. A crowd will gather for both.
Tyson’s career as an active fighter is remembered more for what happened in defeat than victory. The infamous Bite Fight — Evander Holyfield lost part of his ear and won the fight in a DQ — defines him. It shut down the MGM Grand and the city of Las Vegas on a hot night in June 1997.
Cabbies still driving Vegas streets tell stories about it to this day. Meanwhile, Holyfield, one of history’s great heavyweight champions, occupied an almost forgotten role in one of boxing’s most unforgettable moments, infamous because of Tyson and the genuine unpredictability he brings to any event.
Then.
And now.
Twenty-seven years later, that unpredictability is still centered around Tyson. He’ll be 60 in a couple of years. Texas regulators and Netflix can alter the length of rounds and the amount of padding in the gloves. It can tamper with a lot of the numbers. But not that one.
Father Time doesn’t negotiate.
On the scale Thursday, Tyson, reported to be at 233 pounds, looked good, especially for a man moving from middle age into old age. Some of the photos posted on social media included one word: SCARY.
Yeah, scary for him.
I’ve been asked to pick the fight. The sure winner, of course, is Netflix. But there’s another pick, really more of a hope. Here’s hoping Tyson emerges unhurt. Guess is, he will. For all of his trash-talk, Paul, reported to be at 220 pounds, is smart enough to know that his fellow Millennials in the crowd and audience are cheering for Tyson.
They remember him like kids remember their favorite comic-book SuperHeros. They never get old. But Tyson has.
Father Time beats us all, perhaps because of an unforeseen injury or just because of exhaustion, or an erosion in reflexes, or some problematic pre-condition. Remember, this fight was postponed in May because of an ulcer, which Tyson said was bleeding. Tyson told New York Magazine that he was spitting up blood. He was quoted as saying: “I said to the doctor: ‘Am I going to die?’ ‘’
Scary.
A hint at what might happen, perhaps, comes from his greatest rival, Holyfield.
Twenty-four years after The Bite Fight, a 58-year-old Holyfield lost to a mix-martial-arts fighter, Vitor Belfort, who agreed to do an exhibition just eight days before the show in 2021.
Within two minutes of opening bell, Holyfield went down, falling to the canvas in a chaotic crash of uncoordinated legs and limbs. Holyfield got up, but without any of the instinctive reflexes he possessed a couple of decades earlier. They were gone, washed away by the years. He was finished at 1:49 of the first round. It was sad, yet inevitable.
Then.
And probably now.
