Tawdry, mercenary farce that could kill off the art of boxing

Published on Sunday 2 June 2002 01:00

THE question we should be asking is not who is going to win between Lennox Lewis and Mike Tyson, but whether taking part in a high-profile boxing fight is any place for a man who suffers with depression and requires psychiatric attention.

Needless to say, the thought probably hasn’t crossed the minds of many of the 20,000 or so spectators who will fill the Pyramid Arena in Memphis on Saturday. The majority, I suspect, are probably too ashamed to admit they have paid over the customary prices to be present in case Tyson’s fragile psyche explodes and turns a fight into a dreadful farce. Why else would they want to see a former champion, arguably 14 years past his best, take on a champion edging towards his 40th birthday?

Boxing’s voyeurs will turn out in force, and probably make Lewis-Tyson the richest fight in the sport’s history. Already, gate receipts have surpassed the record set in June 1997, when Tyson attempted to regain his WBA belt from Evander Holyfield, but instead shamefully took a chunk out of his opponent’s ear, and was disqualified.

Sad as it is to admit, money and greed have again overridden any moral or humane objection, just as in 1980 when Muhammad Ali, nearing his 40s and after a two-year retirement, attempted a disastrous comeback against former sparring mate Larry Holmes, then the WBC champion.

The humiliation and punishment Ali suffered losing inside the distance for the only time in a 61-fight career not only irreparably harmed the once-magnificent boxer - now stricken with Parkinson’s syndrome - but left sickeningly-embarrassed looks on those who had supported his ego-driven folly.

Tyson may be in far better physical condition now than Ali was then, and he stands a considerably greater chance of defeating Lewis than Muhammad ever had against his former employee. But it shows that the consciousness of those who run and watch boxing has not altered during the intervening 22 years.

While there is mounting evidence that Tyson belongs in hospital, lack of sympathy for him multiplied when, during a press gathering at his Maui headquarters, the challenger insulted a female journalist, and repeatedly talked coldly of how he would like to "kill" Lewis and "smear his pompous brains all over the ring".

American promoter Bob Arum, who has nothing to do with the Memphis show, said: "Everybody is catering for an insane man. Tyson should be locked up in an asylum. He’s the biggest disgrace in the history of boxing." Oscar De la Hoya, an outstanding light-middleweight champion, added: "He is the worst role model in the world. He is seriously sick."

Boxing and the success that came with it were once Tyson’s salvation, but are now chiefly to blame for his demise. A greater paradox, however, is that while Tyson’s apparent instability clearly puts him at serious risk, it also makes him a legitimate danger to Lewis, at least for a round or two.

No-one quite knows what Tyson is going to do, and I suppose there is nothing more captivating in sport than the sense of immense unpredictability. He is just as capable of knocking out Lewis in the first round as he is quitting in rage in the third.

Tyson is nothing but a modern gladiator, who had little choice but to fight Lewis as he is so heavily in debt to American cable network Showtime. And if he wins, there will most probably be a rematch.

The allure of making history, though, no longer holds for Tyson the same motivation that it does for Lewis who, until he was bitten on the leg by the American during their January press conference brawl in New York, had toyed with the idea of abandoning the fight altogether.

I wish he had. But Lewis cannot walk away from the prospect of beating Tyson any more than Tyson can reject a quick fix to his financial woes.

Lewis’s win to regain the world title last November from Hasim Rahman was most convincing. He should have retired then, health intact and bank account swollen, but few boxers ever cash in their chips when the cards are falling in their favour.

Lennox may be smart enough to have fought 42 times (39 wins, one draw, two losses - to Oliver McCall and Rahman) without having to take much punishment, but he has far more to lose than gain against Tyson, who is still a formidable puncher, though a mere shell of the man who, in 1986, became the youngest world heavyweight champion.

Nonetheless, Tyson still strikes great fear into his opposition, not because of the ferocity of his punches, but because his instinct is to break the rules if everything legitimate fails.

Like that cheating genius, Argentine footballer Diego Maradona, Tyson’s indiscretions have stripped away the recollections of his mercurial, magnificent brilliance.

Lewis, much the bigger man at 6ft 5in, possesses the skills, strength and power to more than embarrass his unstable foe.

But this is an occasion more than a fight between two elite boxers - and it is one which could yet plummet the sport to a new low, one from which it will be difficult to recover. And if it does, there is substantial justification for saying "deservedly so".

Claude Abrams is the editor of Boxing News