It Wasn’t a Cartoon, but a Con : Boxing: When it comes to shortchanging fans, as in the Tyson-McNeeley ‘fight,’ Don is still the King.

Come on, you were expecting at least a piece of a competitive fight too?

Sheesh, some folks are never satisfied.

This was vintage Don King, the “He’s Back” fiasco perpetrated Saturday night in front of 16,736 eyewitnesses in Las Vegas and millions more elsewhere. The 89 seconds it took for Mike Tyson and manager-trainer Vinny Vecchione to dispose of cartoon character Peter McNeeley was mostly insignificant.

The show, of course, was the torrent of words, the rolls of film, the miles upon miles of videotape, the time and space expended by hundreds of media outlets since Tyson fled prison in March. “It’s history,” the promoter assured us, oh, a billion times. Yeah, real MacArthur-Philippines stuff, Don.

What Tyson did against this specially prepared side of beef wheeled out of the freezer as the witching hour approached (11:57) didn’t matter. Victory was inevitable. What wasn’t was getting rid of the merchandise on hand.

“Souvenirs are available,” the announcer said breathlessly, taking over the pay-per-view screen while people still were milling around in the ring and commentators were sharpening their adjectives. “What a deal, a cap, a T-shirt and the official program for this historic event for only $45.”

When compared to what perhaps 80 per cent of the late subscribing viewing audience had to pay, $49, it was a good deal. Especially since the price will no doubt go up when Tyson gets around to kick the next tomato can that falls at his feet Nov. 4.

Sugar Ray Leonard, one of about a dozen analysts, reporters and hosts working the nearly four-hour telecast, scored a direct hit when he said, “This type of fight should not be made in the first place.”

Worse is, once it was made, everybody laughed and made jokes, but then got right to work contributing to the hype, thus assuring once again that King can travel the world claiming to be “the greatest promoter of all time.” Assuming, of course, he doesn’t have to go to jail as the result of a mail fraud charge against him.

As for the action itself, McNeeley, who seems to take great pleasure in coming across as the stereotypical “dese and dose” pug, put into practice a brilliant fight plan: Rush out of the corner, crowd Tyson and just keep swinging roundhouse punches.

The reasoning is solid, the fact being if Iron Mike has to keep his arms in and his hands up by the side of his head to block the punches, he can’t be launching his awesome weapons. A short right cross, Tyson’s first offensive effort of the fight, put the kid down after just 15 seconds. He got up immediately and did some road work for reasons unknown.

They wrestled a bit, McNeeley staying in closest proximity and he landed a right, something that no doubt will improve to a six-punch combination when he gets around to telling it to his grandkids. Tyson landed a right to the head, a 5 on a scale of 10. A bit later, a left, another 5, set up a right uppercut, about a 7, and the kid dove for the ring apron.

He was up right off, not planning any road work this time when he fell into the embrace of Vecchione. A cornerman entering the ring disqualified McNeeley, but the stair work was good training for the trainer should he decide to enter the race up the Empire State Building stairs someday. “A bizarre ending,” is what Leonard called it, “and it robbed the fans, who paid a lot of money, of some excitement.”