Man From the Empire Couldn’t Strike Back

It wasn’t a fight, it was an atrocity. It was like watching a chainsaw murder.

Some years ago, reporting on a baseball game that ended 22-6, the late Dick Young wrote: “This belongs on Page 3 with the rest of the ax murders.”

So does the Mike Tyson-Frank Bruno fight. It was several seconds old before Bruno was aground.

That sound of breaking glass you heard about 7:35 Saturday night wasn’t an earthquake. It was Frank Bruno’s chin. Supposedly, some of the finest Spode china in the world rests just underneath Frank’s mandible.

He got up but he revised his fight plan considerably. He started out as if he were trying to win the fight. After the knockout, he was just trying to survive it.

He ended up alive, thanks to a squeamish referee. But he did beat the price in a way: Vegas, which will post a line on the end of the world and cut itself in for a middle, had a proposition that would pay you 11-10 if Bruno lasted more than 4 rounds.

Well, he did--barely. Bruno was gamer than the referee who seemed afraid he might find the Englishman’s head rolling down the aisle if he didn’t step in. He stopped the fight while Bruno still had one.

The fight had its moments. The heavyweight champion of the world, a creature so fearsome you’d expect they’d call out the National Guard if it started up the Empire State Building or was seen swimming in Loch Ness, seemed to think he was on the driving range by the fifth. He was teeing off on Frank Bruno. It’s likely Bruno would have gone down if he knew which way it was. By then, he was just the heavy bag to Tyson. He could have been hanging on chains.

Bruno proved to have one fatal flaw: He couldn’t move backwards. He couldn’t move much of any way. Pigeons were circling him by midfight. He should be a statue in Trafalgar Square.

To be unable to move--and fast and preferably backward--in the ring against Tyson is a drawback akin to being unable to swim in a shipwreck.

Bruno seemed to figure as long as he couldn’t beat Tyson, he would hug him to death. Tyson must have felt as if he spent the night in the grip of a lovesick octopus.

It worked for awhile. The only trouble with hugging Mike Tyson is, you got to get close to him to do it. It’s a good idea to keep an area code between you and Mike Tyson when he’s looking for you with murder in his heart.

Still, it wouldn’t be fair to say the only thing Bruno hit all night was the floor. He actually hit Mike Tyson a time or two. That wasn’t the smartest thing he ever did. Tyson gets annoyed when he gets hit. It’s a little bit like tweaking a lion’s tail.

But the worst thing about hitting Mike Tyson is what happens then.

Nothing.

It’s like shooting spitballs at a battleship. It’s like the old joke: If you ever hit Mike Tyson and he finds out about it--look out.

Frank Bruno probably thinks he can hit a little bit. After all, all but one of his 34 fights ended in a knockout--32 times he was the knocker-outer, and twice he was the knockee. Somebody is horizontal when Frank Bruno fights.

So, Frank had some expectation Tyson might reel a little bit or maybe even blink when he threw his best punch. Tyson just ignored it. He fought Bruno as if he were chasing a chicken.

So, the house got a push in Vegas. They won on the proposition the fight wouldn’t go the distance, they lost on the proposition it wouldn’t go 4 rounds.

And it confounded the experts who said it wouldn’t last much past the introductions.

It’s not easy to knock a man out. Particularly, a man who stands 6-3 and weighs 228. Frank Bruno was no Michael Spinks.

Mike Tyson is now in the position Joe Louis was. You don’t measure a man by how many rounds he lasts against him but how many minutes. If anyone goes the limit with him, he gets a ticker-tape parade. A guy in with Tyson feels lucky he didn’t get eaten.

Tyson was almost apologetic in his postfight interview. He seemed to feel he probably should have killed his opponent or at least put him in traction.

“Can I tell you something?” Tyson said. “I could have used more training. But I had to deal with what I had.”

Did his weight loss--he had to take off 40 pounds of French fries and pizza to get ready for this fight--have an effect? “Oh, definitely, you know what I mean? But I had to deal with it.” Was he hurt at any time? “It’s a hurting business, but can I tell you something? It’s not in my fight plan. I refuse to get hurt.”

In the end it was his very indestructibility that undid Bruno. Frank, anchored in the cement of his fighting style, could only stand there and watch like a guy seeing an avalanche coming down on his cabin. He couldn’t run, he couldn’t hide. Tyson didn’t even give him time to pray.

Tyson doesn’t bleed. He doesn’t lump. He has only one gear--forward. He throws rocks. He’s not the devastating one-punch knockout artist a Joe Louis was. He’s a swarmer. But he’s as unstoppable as a glacier.

So, it’s another setback for the Empire. But Bruno went down with flags flying and guns firing. You just can’t stop a force of nature with ordinary weapons. Bullets would bounce off Mike Tyson. You might have to have a blunt stake and a crucifix to end his reign--and catch him asleep in his coffin. It’s for sure left hooks are a waste of time.