The rehabilitation of Mike Tyson

It's seems like ancient history now, but once upon a time, before the advent of mixed martial arts, Mike Tyson was regarded as the baddest man on the planet. His knockout power was such that huge black men like Trevor Berbick and Pinklon Thomas cowered in fear when they entered the ring with him. It was said that most of his opponents were already beaten before the fight started.

Tyson's fearsome reputation was exacerbated by his early history of juvenile delinquency and his pronouncements about what he was going to do to his opponents ("drive the bone from his nose up into his brain," "eat his children," etc.). Some of this was done to drum up interest in the fight, but some came from a seemingly inexhaustible supply of rage. At one press conference, a spectator yelled, "Put him in a strait jacket." Here is Tyson's reaction.

(As best I can tell, he wasn't acting.)

As a result of both his boxing prowess and his raw image, Tyson got more publicity than any heavyweight since Muhammad Ali. Much of the press coverage he got was understandably negative, and many took pains to disparage his feral nature. But Tyson, unlike Don King and Robin Givens, never struck me as a sociopath.

Tyson's reign as champ lasted only four years. After his original manager Cus d'Amato died, Tyson hired a couple of childhood friends who knew little about boxing to be his trainers. He got out of shape, started drinking (partly to emulate the old time boxers), and married Robin Givens. None of these things had a positive effect on his boxing, and by 1990 he was a shadow of the boxer he had been in 1986.

But the out of control lifestyle didn't stop. There were the auto accidents, the pet tiger, the nonstop partying, the rape conviction, the ear biting incident, and the preflight scuffle with Lennox Lewis. Then, the inevitable bankruptcy. And then, you didn't hear much about him for a while. 

But all of a sudden, in the past couple years, Tyson has popped back into public view -- as a lovable teddy bear.

There he was in The Hangover, playing himself to comedic effect.

Here he is telling a magazine interviewer that he is now a vegetarian. (Which must mean he's given up eating his opponents' children.)

He showed up at Comedy Central's Charlie Sheen roast, delivering his own speech, then doubling over with laughter as he in turn was savaged by the other comedians. At one point Jeffrey Ross told him, "Mike, when I was listening to you I wanted to chew my own ears off." Tyson laughed as if it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

Here's what Amy Schumer had to say to him, as well as his reaction to her insults. (Contrast this reaction to his earlier reaction linked above.)

When Patrice O'Neal got his turn at the podium, he captured the moment perfectly by saying, "You know, I'm not so sure I like the way white people are so....comfortable with Mike Tyson these days."

Then last week there was Tyson at Madison Square Garden, participating in Lin-mania. When interviewer Jill Martin asked him somewhat pointed questions about his biggest regrets, he responded laughingly.

So it's now official: Mike Tyson is a cuddly mascot.

This type of rehabilitation has happened to only one other boxing champ: George Foreman. Foreman was also regarded as a sullen force of nature early in his career, though his main role was to play the heavy to Muhammad Ali in the famous Rumble in the Jungle. Foreman boxed for three more years after that fight, then faded into obscurity for a decade or so, working as a preacher at a rundown church in Texas. Eventually he made a comeback in the late 1980's that culminated in a piece of the heavyweight title. By this point he was the old man in the game, and also had enough nostalgia value so that people rooted for him. He subsequently made a fortune promoting cooking grills thanks to his newly jovial persona.

But other than Foreman, there's no one in recent memory who has undergone the image transformation Tyson has. Certainly not Sonny Liston, the glowering man who was dethroned by the young Cassius Clay. Liston was widely reputed to be mobbed up, and also a heroin user. He died under questionable circumstances in Las Vegas years later, mourned by few. The public has never warmed up to Larry Holmes. During his reign he was said to have suffered by being the successor to Ali, but Holmes would have been considered charisma-free in any era.

Joe Louis and Rocky Marciano were heroes from start to finish; their images never changed.

Muhammad Ali is, of course, an icon. But he always was, so there was no rehab involved there, either. These days Ali gets trotted out on various public occasions, and each time we get to see the long term aftereffects of all those Pyrrhic victories over Frazier, Foreman, Norton, and Shavers.

Iron Mike, despite his moniker, did not have the iron jaw Ali did, and so was knocked out by Buster Douglas and Lennox Lewis rather than having his brains battered for round after round. As a result he is now getting to enjoy his post-boxing incarnation as Cuddly Mike.

I'm glad he's enjoying the last laugh over Robin Givens and Don King.