Tyson was the one holdout. “He felt he really didn’t do anything wrong,” says the friend. “He felt Holyfield asked for it and the people watching didn’t understand what was happening in the ring. It took some doing to finally get him to agree.” He refused, however, to have his wife, Monica Turner, eight months pregnant, at his side for the press conference. On Monday, his 31st birthday, Tyson spent the morning memorizing the three-page apology “to the world” written by his advisers. And that afternoon he delivered it-with more style and punch than he had shown in the ring-and pleaded for a future in boxing.
The apology, however contrived, did have the ring of truth. “I just snapped,” explained Tyson, who, whether he believes it or not, likely did just that. It shouldn’t have come as a shock. NEWSWEEK reported before the fight that the original rematch, scheduled for April, was canceled largely because of Tyson’s “wobbly emotional keel.” His friends feared that he was so distressed about his life that he wouldn’t be able to fight. According to The Boston Globe, Teddy Atlas, Tyson’s original trainer, predicted before the bout that Tyson would “get himself disqualified.” Indeed, some friends say that what led Tyson to bite Holyfield may have been a subconscious stab at saving himself. “A suspension may help him get the pressure off for a while,” says one friend. “I think, in a strange way, he might have wanted that.”
The Nevada State Athletic Commission is almost certain this week to revoke Tyson’s license for an extended period and to fine him at least $3 million. Holyfield–whom Tyson called Monday at his Fair-burn, Ga., home, leaving a preview of his public performance on the answering machine-seems willing to accept the apology. “What happened is over and behind us,” he told NBC, even suggesting that there could be a Holyfield-Tyson ILL if Tyson proves he can control himself–and “it’s something the people want to see.”
Yet the public doesn’t seem remotely satisfied, appearing to desire almost Biblical retribution-perhaps an ear for an ear. In various polls, almost 80 percent of Americans supported banning Tyson from boxing for life. “What we’re seeing is mass revulsion,” says veteran boxing writer and editor Bert Sugar. Still, it’s hard to profess too much shock at anything a convicted rapist has done. Just as likely, the public-almost 2 million saw the fight on pay-per-view–is embarrassed, even ashamed at its complicity in the event. After all, had Tyson bashed Holyfield’s brains in, he’d be judged a great champ, not a beast.
The need to punish Tyson may also stem from the growing contempt for a sport that knows no shame. Boxing fed the public a string of Tyson farces, one of which saw his opponent basically faint in the first round. Other recent heavyweight bouts have been equally scandalous. Andrew Golota has twice been disqualified for deliberate low blows, and another former champion, Oliver McCall, suffered a nervous breakdown in the ring. “Every time I hear about a black eye for boxing,” says one boxing wag, “I wonder how many eyes boxing has.”
Even biting isn’t exactly unheard of in the sport, though it’s almost always a nip on the shoulder. Holyfield himself was guilty of a bite during a 1980 Golden Gloves bout. Golota took a bite out of an opponent and explained it afterward by saying, “I hungry.” Journalists seemed to want to have “the bite” both ways, reacting with sanctimony while headline writers had a field day playing it for laughs (REQUIEM FOR A CHAMPION, Philadelphia Daily News; LOBE BLOW FOR BOXING, The Tennessean; TYSON TASTES DEFEAT, Providence Journal-Bulletin; SUCKER MUNCH, London’s The Sun).
The one blessing to emerge from Holyfield-Tyson II–Don King’s unprecedented silence–is unlikely to last very long. ‘When the ’tsk-tsking’ is all over, there’s a chance to make a lot of money out of this fiasco," says one expert. “The same fight fans now outraged will be drooling to see Tyson again if it’s presented the right way.”
Tyson, while continually expressing bitter resentment of his handlers, has always done their bidding. He appears to have virtually no control over any aspect of his life. “He does things and then seems amazed at the results,” says a friend. His confusion on every level is evident. After the fight, he refused to accept any comfort from his wife. Instead, he tried to phone his ex-wife, Robin Givens, with whom, sources say, he has resumed a relationship. Some friends actually saw his reaching out to Givens as a hopeful sign that he might be open to some form of therapy. “She was the only one who told him he had mental issues and urged him to get help,” says one friend. “But the others around him told him she was wrong.” Tyson has pledged publicly to seek help, but his associates are already at work undermining any notion that he needs it. “He’s fine. He just wants this over,” says Stacy McKinley, one of Tyson’s trainers. “This is just another hurdle. He’ll be all right.” But Mike Tyson hasn’t been all right for a very long time. And there’s nothing in his life that suggests, absent some serious help, he ever will be.
