Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Narrative, Mike Tyson, and Being the Hero of Your Own Life.
Posted by Zach in News

Charles Dickens’ novel David Copperfield opens with an elegant sentence: “Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show.”

It is a tragic thing when a guy ceases to be the hero of his life and slides into a supporting role or worse, becomes the antagonist. I think this assumption controls public perception. The public can forgive many things, but it has little forgiveness for a man that ruins his story.

Few people have ruined their story more than Mike Tyson. Boxing is a singularly epic sports event. In the ring clashing ideologies achieve laser focus. David Remnick in his excellent article “Kid Dynamite Blows Up” writes beautifully about the appeal of boxing:

“Boxing is ancient, simple, lonely. There is hardly any artifice at all. Padded gloves and the gauze and tape underneath do little to protect the fighters; they merely prevent broken hands, and allow for more punching, more pain. Boxers go into the ring alone, nearly naked, and they succeed or fail on the basis of the most elementary criteria: their ability to give and receive pain, their will to endure their own fear. Since character–the will of a person stretched to extremes–is so obviously at the center of boxing, there is an undeniable urge to know the fighters, to derive some meaning from those characters.

“John L. Sullivan’s triumphs were triumphs of the working class, the immigrant wave, ‘the people.’ Joe Louis fought the moral war over German fascism–fascism coming in the bruised and prostrate person of Max Schmeling. Most of all, the fights have come to be parables tinctured with the issues and conflicts of race.”

The urge, using the ring to tell a story, manifests itself in all the memorable fights. In the recent Holyfield-Ibragimov fight, Brett Forrest registers his disappointment at the lack of narrative spark. He writes, “This was no collision of cultures, no epic battle, no thing to be remembered. It was a night out.” By contrast, famed writer Heywood Broun saw the 1922 Leonard-Kansas bout as nothing less than Tradition’s victory over the Jazz-Age. He notes that, “The entire orthodox world owes a debt to Benny Leonard.” The story was top notch. So was the fight.

The rise of Mike Tyson is inspiring. As a kid, Mike Tyson both hides in fear inside condemned buildings, and terrorizes old ladies. He’s a thug and he winds up in reform school. Trainer Cus D’Amato discovers him, becomes a father figure to him, adopts him, and dies. Tyson then becomes the youngest heavyweight titleholder in history and sobs that Cus wasn’t alive to see it. It’s 1986, and Tyson is very much the hero of his own life. He’s channeled the anarchic rage of the streets into the ring and now he wears the belt. It’s 1987, and we love Mike Tyson. Mike Tyson’s Punch Out comes out for the NES. He wins all three major Heavyweight titles. The first one ever to do so. Heck, in 1989 Ohio’s Central State University gives him an honorary doctorate. Mike Tyson’s meteoric rise is a sports writer’s dream. Then the story takes a turn and Tyson’s role begins to shift.

In 1991 he’s arrested for the rape of Miss Black Rhode Island. He’s convicted in 1992. He serves 3 years in prison where he reads a lot of communist literature and converts to Islam. He says incredibly stupid things in public: “Hannibal was very courageous. He rode elephants through Cartilage.” In 1996, he fights Evander Holyfield. Holyfield wins. Sports writers across the nation view it as a triumph of character. Much like Giuliani’s reclamation of Central Park, Holyfield reclaims Boxing from the domination of thugs. In 1997, Tyson and Holyfield fight again and Tyson bites off a portion of Holyfield’s ear. The story is still interesting. Our interest doesn’t lag, but our empathy for Tyson has evaporated. No longer the hero, he is his own life’s worst enemy. The public is less interested in the little boy that cried inside condemned buildings and is more concerned with the bully that stalked the streets. In 2005, Tyson fights Kevin McBride. It’s a close match, but for some reason Tyson quits professional boxing before the seventh round begins.

A week before the McBride fight, Tyson speaks with undeniable candor to USA Today. He says, “My whole life has been a waste–I’ve been a failure. I just want to escape. I’m really embarrassed with myself and my life. I want to be a missionary. I think I could do that while keeping my dignity without letting people know they chased me out of the country. I want to get this part of my life over as soon as possible. In this country nothing good is going to come of me.”

Now it’s 2007 and Mike Tyson is broke (somehow he burned through 300 million dollars). He faces up to 6 months in prison for a DUI and 4 years for a drug possession charge. Tysontalk.com, Iron Mike’s fansite, no longer talks about his glory days as the world’s most feared Heavyweight boxer. Instead, on the front page, it posts: “Mike Tyson pleads guilty to charges.” AP sports columnist, Tim Dahlberg, recently described Tyson as “a recovering addict living quietly in a rehab center.”

Maybe Mike Tyson will pull himself up from the mat and reclaim his story before the ref counts to ten. It’s the third act, and all we can do is wait.

3 Responses to “Narrative, Mike Tyson, and Being the Hero of Your Own Life.”

Julie comments:
Monday, October 29th, 2007

This is such a provocative and fascinating essay. I forwarded it to all my blog reading friends. Thanks!

Chris comments:
Tuesday, November 6th, 2007

I have a feeling he could have been the best boxer ever, but this is what happens when make bad decisions.

john comments:
Tuesday, April 8th, 2008

ur a douche bag

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