He kicked off his sneakers, stepped on the scale in his white socks and smiled. Seconds later, the man once labeled the baddest man on the planet, the one who could petrify an opponent simply by stepping on to the apron, flexed his biceps for a few photographers and then giggled almost in shame.
”Mike Tyson,” the boxing official bellowed into the microphone, his announcement filling every corner of the minor-league hockey arena. ”Two hundred, forty-one-and-a-half pounds [109,4kg]. And that’s with street clothes on.”
Once upon a career, Mike Tyson would arrive at a weigh-in thirsty for blood — or an ear. Sometimes, he’d taunt his next victim, maybe even throw a punch or two as a preview to the hell he planned to unleash inside the ropes.
On Thursday, Tyson walked around the podium hugging old friends and young boxers, many of whom just wanted to shake the former champ’s hand.
Iron Mike is dead. He’s Nice Mike now.
”You know what, though. He’s still a great show,” former lightweight champion Ray ”Boom Boom” Mancini said moments before Tyson arrived at the 6 000-seat Chevrolet Centre, usually home to a minor-league ice-hockey team known as the SteelHounds. ”He’s still the biggest name in boxing.”
Now 40, and 20 years since he knocked out Trevor Berbick in the second round to become the world’s youngest heavyweight champion, Tyson will embark on a ”world tour” by fighting a four-round exhibition on Friday against Corey ”T-Rex” Sanders, a former sparring partner who tipped the scales at a whopping 132,5kg.
Tyson isn’t Tyson any more. But that doesn’t seem to matter to fans willing to pay $200 for a ringside seat and a glimpse at his former greatness.
”I never got to see him in person, only on TV, and this is my only chance,” Anna Curry said after exiting the arena’s box office with two tickets. ”This is Mike Tyson, right here in Youngstown.”
He may be coming to a city near you soon. In the upcoming months, Tyson will visit South Korea, China, Russia and South Africa, where he’s in negotiations to fight on Robben Island, site of the prison that held Nelson Mandela for 18 years.
The tour’s promoter, Sterling McPherson, views Tyson’s bring-him-to-the-people tour as no different than any other big-name entertainers who continue to take the stage despite being past their primes.
”Look at the Rolling Stones, they’re still playing and they’re in their 60s,” he said. ”Somebody once said, ‘There’s Tyson and then there’s everyone else.’ It’s still that way.”
McPherson wouldn’t say how much Tyson, who wasted nearly $300-million in purse earnings on late nights in clubs and extravagant purchases, is making on the tour. Anyway, Tyson is donating most — if not all — of the money to charity, his way of giving back to a public once fascinated by his every TKO inside the ring and every stumble outside it.
Initial ticket sales were strong in boxing-rich Youngstown, where Gene Tunney, Jess Willard and Ezzard Charles all fought and the home of Mancini, who now lives in Santa Monica, California.
Following the weigh-in, Tyson left the building surrounded by the familiar cadre of security personnel. As he was being whisked away, fans yelled his name with few trying to touch the one-time king of the boxing world.
”I’ve followed him since he won the title,” said Chery Triggs, of Youngstown. ”It’s amazing to see him. He looks good.”
Triggs, too, feels bad for Tyson’s fall — a self-imposed knockout he could have avoided.
”You go through life, you learn and you’ve got to keep it going,” she said. ”You can’t go backwards. Hopefully, he learned something along the way.” — Sapa-AP