Tyson extends run on edge of disaster

There was a lot to watch over the past week.

Yet no one really saw what they were truly looking for.

It has become cliche to use the analogy, but it is accurate. People observe Mike Tyson as if they're driving past a car wreck. They want to merely drive by with their eyes pointed straight ahead. But as the crash gets closer, they inevitably turn their heads.

And, as most rubberneckers will admit, slowing down for a glimpse generally doesn't provide the carnage they thought they might see.

The same thing happened when Tyson returned to the ring Saturday night to fight Frans Botha at the MGM Grand Garden.

Trailing big on all scorecards, Tyson knocked out Botha at 2:59 of the fifth round with a devastating right hand to the chin.

It was an entertaining fight with the result most had expected. But that wasn't why hordes of fans and media came to the Grand Garden and why others purchased the pay-per-view television package.

They wanted to see whether Tyson would crash and burn in his first fight since getting suspended by the Nevada State Athletic Commission 19 months ago for biting Evander Holyfield's ears.

And during the past week Tyson appeared as if he could run off the road at any time.

Buckle up Tyson's ride in the days leading up to his fight wasn't wild by his standards. But it was an intriguing journey during which his foot unpredictably alternated between putting the pedal to the metal and slamming on the brake.

The dark blue Mercedes with Ohio plates screeched out of the garage on the night of Jan. 9, shortly after Tyson arrived from Phoenix, where he now trains.

The week started off with a bang, or maybe several of them, about 11 p.m. that day when automatic gunfire reportedly was heard coming from Tyson's southeast Las Vegas home. Metro police responded to a phone call, but Tyson's private security team denied hearing any shots. No charges were filed.

The next day marked the first public glimpse of Tyson in the ring since he gnawed on Holyfield. Tyson, decked out in neon green bikinis that left little to the imagination, worked out in front of the media for 46 minutes at the MGM Grand.

The session offered a sneak peek as to what could be expected Saturday night. Tyson showed the same lateral movement and skill in slipping and countering punches he was known for as the undisputed heavyweight champion of the world in the late 1980s.

After the workout, Tyson's demeanor swerved from one lane to another during an intimate interview session with select members of the media. He drove over the median but never crashed.

When it was over, however, the reporters figured it was only a matter of time.

Seated on a sofa between junior-lightweight stud Floyd Mayweather Jr. (who, like Tyson once was, is a 21-year-old world champ) and Floyd Mayweather Sr. (who, like Tyson, is a convicted felon), Tyson wasn't asked many tough questions. It was a feeling-out process of sorts, the first round of Tyson vs. the media.

"You guys love me today and hate me tomorrow," he said.

Most of the queries dealt with his layoff, his new management team, his objectives against Botha. But the answers were all over the road. Tyson brought up Machiavelli and the Holocaust. He tried to answer the question of whether there was a God.

Paranoia crept into many of his comments, some of which were answers to questions never asked. At times the reporters, seated five feet away, couldn't help but turn to one another and laugh in front of him.

"When things are going great, that's when I worry the most," Tyson said. "People are setting me up."

It was easy to see Tyson's buttons were going to be easily pressed as the fight approached.

"I was really screwed up before," Tyson said. "And that was a couple days ago."

The media could sense Tyson still was susceptible to blowing up at any moment. He was easily agitated even when he wasn't being provoked. It was obvious even to a cub reporter that if Tyson was going to be out, it was imperative to be right there with him.

He was a front-page headline waiting to be printed.

Expletive action Tyson returned to the MGM media tent on Tuesday, this time to conduct a series of satellite interviews with television and radio stations across the country. His responses were terse at times, sarcastic at others. But his expletive-filled exchange with New York sportscaster Russ Salzberg made for a frequently replayed, albeit heavily bleeped, news clip.

"I'm beyond good and evil," he angrily told another interviewer. "I'm beyond right and wrong. I don't live by anybody's rules."

Tyson appeared on the brink, even though he never was asked about his legal battles. Adviser Shelly Finkel wouldn't allow Tyson to speak about his possible prison return. Tyson pleaded no contest to assaulting a pair of motorists in Maryland after a fender-bender last summer. A sentencing hearing is set for Feb. 5.

His probation on a 1992 rape conviction in Indiana also could be revoked because of the Maryland case.

Tyson was never asked to address his $100 million lawsuit against former promoter Don King and former co-managers John Horne and Rory Holloway. The former Team Tyson is countersuing for $110 million.

He also owes the IRS several million dollars and, to help pay off the debt, is trying to sell his mansions in Connecticut, Ohio and here.

"What I do for a living attracts some real scum bags," he said. "Everybody was snatching, grabbing and ripping at me."

To help ensure Tyson didn't end up in a heap before the opening bell, Finkel belted him in by instructing him to say very little Wednesday at the final prefight news conference.

So if the crash was going to occur, it was going to happen Saturday night in the Grand Garden.

Tyson almost obliged.

Catastrophe averted The 12,519 in attendance -- most of whom seemed to be wearing credentials rather than carrying ticket stubs -- nearly saw Tyson wreck his career yet again.

The end of the first round evoked a startling flashback of the scene Tyson created when he bit Holyfield. Engaged in an aggressive clinch with Botha, Tyson tried a dirty backroom brawling tactic by twisting Botha's arm in an attempt to break it. The two former champions continued to throw punches after the bell and, with trainers and referee Richard Steele trying to separate them, were not pried apart for 20 seconds. Tyson got cut over his right eye during the melee.

A unit of Metro officers stormed the ring and stood guard on the apron as dread filled the arena. Tyson was on the verge of his second consecutive disqualification loss -- and few seemed too surprised.

The fight continued, but that didn't settle the mood. Thirty-seven seconds into the second round, Tyson was deducted a point for unnecessary roughness during another clinch. He again tried to twist Botha's arm and threw an elbow at his head.

Tyson scowled as Steele informed each judge of the penalty, but the fighter settled down after that. He seemed to regain his composure in the third round.

In spite of that, Botha continued to dominate. Two judges, Dave Moretti and Dalby Shirley, gave the first four rounds to Botha. The third, Bill Graham, gave Tyson only the second.

None of that mattered when Tyson fired a deadbolt right hand to Botha's chin at the end of the fifth.

Disaster was averted -- this time -- and Tyson survived another potential career-ending evening.

Parting shots Maybe he realized that afterward as he lost a bit of the cockiness he had exhibited in the days leading up to the fight. Tyson was self-effacing.

"I didn't prove anything," he said. "I'm just trying. I have a long way to go."

He needs to get there before he runs out of gas. But until he does, everybody will be waiting and watching.

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