For Tyson, a Bout of Civility

In Chicago on Wednesday, one Michael retired. In Las Vegas on Saturday, another Michael returns.

Michael Jordan departed the Chicago Bulls on top of his game and on top of the world, loved and admired, a role model to the end. Mike Tyson comes back to fight Francois Botha on Saturday night after a 19-month absence from the ring in search of all that Jordan had, his own once-unquestioned spot atop the boxing world now highly suspect, his role never considered a model by society.

Tyson never seemed to care about that in the past. Let the other Michael sell shoes, push cologne and co-star with cartoon characters in the movies.

Tyson didn’t seem to want to be like Mike, the basketball player. But then, he didn’t want to be like Mike, the boxer, either. He loved those precious moments in the ring when he could unleash his rage on opponents. But he hated all that went with the heavyweight championship--the spotlight, crowds, media, endless news conferences and overall scrutiny.

Jordan fed off the fame, using the opportunity afforded by his talent to build a sparkling image and a financial empire, largely avoiding the temptations of evil with the exception of a few ill-advised wagers.

But where Jordan saw his skills as a blessing, Tyson saw his as a curse. He could no more avoid trouble than his opponents could avoid the devastating punches that knocked them senseless.

Tyson sees himself as a victim of his past, an unavoidable product of a childhood spent in the roughest streets of New York. But ultimately, he has to take responsibility for his misfortune. There is no one else to blame for the rape conviction that landed him in prison, for the choice of handlers that left him near financial ruin, for the ear-biting incident against Evander Holyfield that cost Tyson a year and a half of his career.

But as he prepares to face Botha at the MGM Grand Garden Arena, Tyson seems to be making an effort to come in from the cold rejection of so many. He is training diligently, listening to trainer Tommy Brooks, working on regaining the ring techniques he long ago abandoned, signing autographs and meeting for long sessions with the media.

It was at one such session earlier this week, in a dressing room near the arena, that Tyson revealed an incident that had an impact on him.

He recently learned that Cus D’Amato, who discovered him as a teenager and became his mentor before dying in 1985, had left Tyson money in an individual retirement account that has grown to $200,000.

“The longer you live, the more you find out about people,” Tyson said. “I used to spend $200,000 on belts and underwear and champagne for girls in nightclubs, so it’s an insignificant amount, but now I understand the saying, ‘It’s the thought that counts.’ . . . It [the discovery of the IRA] was truly overwhelming. I never thought anybody loved my black [behind]. It made me feel better to know there are good people in the world because what I do attracts scumbags.”

Tyson was asked how his life would have been different if D’Amato were still watching over him.

“He was always trying to get me married early. He wanted me to get married at 15 or 16,” Tyson said. “Of course, if I did that I probably would have killed everybody in my family by now.”

Tyson bemoaned the fact that he had so much success so early, that he became heavyweight champion at 20.

“I was really screwed up,” he said. “I wasn’t ready for it. I should have been put in jail then. When they made me a champion, they truly screwed me up. I could have done a lot more with a lot less.”

Tyson covered a wide range of people and topics in the interview, from Machiavelli and Nietzsche to his views of God and his opinion of his place in the boxing world.

He was philosophical, funny, boastful, a humble victim in one sentence and an arrogant aggressor in the next.

But above all, he portrayed himself as a man who was trying to overcome a life full of regrets.

“I haven’t died yet,” Tyson said, “but I’ve been to hell.”

He was referring, at least partially, to the 3 1/2 years he spent in prison on a rape conviction.

“In that cell,” Tyson said, “people brutalize you and you are never the same. You become an animal and now you come back and people want you to be domesticated.”

He also described as another form of hell the time he spent late last year with a team of doctors who were trying to determine his mental state.

Applying to regain the license taken from him by the Nevada State Athletic Commission for biting Holyfield’s ears in their 1997 title rematch, Tyson was ordered to undergo the exam by the commission. He spent five days at Massachusetts General Hospital.

“No way those guys are sane,” he said of the doctors who examined him. “They love torturing people’s minds. They would have made great Nazis.”

When the session was over, Tyson apologized to reporters as they left over some of the coarse language he had used and the anger he had demonstrated.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” he explained. “I’m dealing with this crisis in my life.”

And yet, only 24 hours later, while talking on a television feed to reporters all over the country, Tyson reverted to his evil side, unleashing a stream of four-letter words and mocking reporters’ questions.

At 32, on the verge of a much-anticipated comeback, Mike Tyson remains a complex work in progress.

But this much seems obvious: He still has a long way to go to be like Mike.

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX / INFOGRAPHIC)

Tale of the Tape

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MIKE TYSON FRANCOIS BOTHA 45-3, 39 knockouts Record 39-1, 24 knockouts 32 Age 30 223 Weight 233 5-11 1/2 Height 6-2 78 inches Reach 74 inches 42 1/2 Chest (normal) 42 inches 44 inches Chest (expanded) 46 inches 17 inches Biceps 17 inches 14 inches Forearm 14 inches 34 inches Waist 38 inches 26 1/2 inches Thigh 26 inches 17 inches Calf 17 inches 20 inches Neck 18 inches 8 inches Wrist 8 inches 12 inches Fist 13 inches

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Fight Facts

MIKE TYSON

(45-3, 39 KOs)

vs.

FRANCOIS

BOTHA

(39-1,

1 no contest,

24 KOs)

Las Vegas, 6 p.m.

Saturday

Pay-per-view