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The Last Man Standing
"I have endeavoured to take out all the misfits in boxing - and Tyson is the last misfit."
Throughout the late 1980s and much of the following decade, boxing seemed to be under attack, in particular the heavyweight division. A group of misfits as Lennox Lewis labelled them, or mad men and psychopaths as labelled by many others, seemed to be storming through boxing’s blue ribbon division. There was the madness and ferocity and killer instinct of Mike Tyson, he of the **** and “I’ll eat his children” fame, then there was the talented cowardice and weak mental strength of one Rid**** Bowe, heir apparent to Ali’s boisterous throne. To round it all off there was Rahman and Briggs, Golota and McCall.
Watching heavyweight boxing in the ‘90s was a surreal experience; for every great night featuring Evander Holyfield and George Foreman, there was lackadaisical non-sense from Michael Moorer or the mental flaccidity of Oliver McCall and Andrew Golota This cast of comic book villain-esque monsters and jokers was rounded off by “The Baddest Man on the Planet”, Mike Tyson. A once feared and fearsome boxer, Tyson in the 90s was a shadow of his former self. He was either two busy living off of past glories or making headlines for everything but boxing.
Lennox Lewis, Britain’s greatest ever heavyweight and the last true undisputed champion in the division, had cut a swathe through the misfits, just as he had promised. He had taken apart McCall in a bizarre rematch, battered Golota into first round submission, avenged his defeat to Rahman and made a coward of Bowe. As the heavyweight division thinned out and Holyfield’s reign has lineal champion was finally ended, there was only one name left to call out.
Tyson at the dawn of the 21st century was just that, a name. He was no longer a dedicated athlete, an elite fighter or a fearsome heavyweight. If truth be told, his last competitive fight was the dramatic and shameful rematch against Holyfield, the famous ear biting incident ensued. Tyson was sent into exile, fighting for scraps in Europe, or scraps by his standards anyway. The man who had so energised the sport a decade earlier was now a freak show. May be he enjoyed that kind of attention at the time, or maybe he didn’t but he always, always played up for the camera.
“It’s not rage that drives me, it’s competition.”
In stark contrast, Lennox Lewis had slowly but firmly solidified his place as the best heavyweight on the planet and one of the very best pound for pound boxers in the sport. Now himself a millionaire and well-known figure, Lewis had little to prove but he still had that desire, to compete and to show the world that he was the best. He had felt slighted for so long, there was the controversy of turning his back on Canada, the lack of acceptance in Britain and being ignored in America. Tyson he felt would be his road to complete resurrection, he wanted to be the messiah the division needed and banishing Tyson was his way of fulfilling that dream.
Thus, in 2002, the stars, promoters, TV networks, dollars and fighters finally aligned to give the world the fight it had so longed for. Lewis would get his wish as would Tyson. The former champion had another shot at glory or in reality, at a massively needed payday. Lewis had the chance to be what he had always made himself out to be. In all honesty, for anyone above the age of 10 who watched the sport, the fight seemed a no-contest. Tyson was slow, a little out of shape and couldn’t crack an egg. Lewis dominated.
As the curtain fell on an event which had been more hyped than any other before it and the security meekly walked out of the ring, Tyson slumped over to the interviewer. Questions were asked, there weren’t any major surprises. Tyson seemed humbled, as many a bully before him. Lewis smiled, ever so slightly smug, as the fight had ended; he had thumped his chest like a conquering Lord, an Emperor come to take what was rightly his. Lewis had banished the last of the “misfits”, just as he had said he would.
“I don’t have anything else to prove.”
Lewis would fight just once more, a year later against Vitali Klitschko. The best of the new crop, the giant Ukrainian who could punch gave the ageing Lewis hell. It’s a fight Lewis would have lost if not for the cut and a ferocious fighting spirit. The referee and doctors probably saved Lewis’ title and pride. Vitali walked away, the loser but the people’s champion in the eyes of many. Lewis had dipped his toes in a new era, he had survived the lower echelons of Grant and Golota but even he knew that one more go round may not work. Retirement beckoned.
There was talk of a rematch with Vitali but Lewis no longer wanted it, he never needed it. He had taken on the best of his time and won, he had cleared out and cleaned out a dirty and dark division filled with monsters and criminals and no good scoundrels. The vanquishing of Tyson also saw the demise of Don King’s fortune and hold over the richest division in the sport.
In all of boxing’s history, few can say that they left the sport in a better position than they found it. Even the great Muhammad Ali fell into the traps of the rich and powerful and criminal. Lewis ended that, for the heavyweight division and maybe for a limited time but he did it none the less. In an age of excess, power, madness, brutality and darkness, Lewis was the last man standing and in his own words, “The fight will last as long as I allow it to last”…In a career spanning 24 years, Lewis took his time but he beat all the men that mattered.
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