The Machine of Destruction

I was up late last night, like always, and I happend upon channel 35. Up here that's ESPN Classic. Like many other nights there was boxing on. Most nights out of the week it's Muhammed Ali. They show his old stuff all the time. This night was different. This night was Mike Tyson night. They were showing his fights from the start of his career through Buster Douglas. Fortunately I fell asleep before Buster Douglas. Watching that fight was like watching Roy Jones Jr. get jacked by Glen Johnson. Felt like someone ripped out my heart when Tyson lost.

Anyway, watching a young Mike Tyson fight was like your favorite song coming on the radio after you've waited days to hear it. You turn it up and revel until it's over...or in my case, until I went to sleep. Man, Mike Tyson was THE TRUTH and nothing but. His power was and has been surpassed by none. Watching him hit someone and their body go flying clear across the ring was unfathomable. A boxer would cover up, trying so hard to protect himself, but Tyson would eventually pick em off. One hit was all it took. He would knock the living Hell out of someone, lifting them off their feet dropping them onto the canvas. I saw him break a guy's nose. Tyson was rediculous. Scary phenominal. Could have been the best ever if not for guys like Don King and girls like Robin Givens. Now, he's just a sideshow, singing with Bobby Brown (talk about a sideshow).

But you know. I'll always like Mike Tyson. At heart he's a good guy. Sort of misguided, a little crazy. But he's Mike Tyson. He's my generation's superman. And when that next Mike Tyson show comes on, I'll sick back, turn up the volume and watch in awe at his once scary power. Here's to you Kid Dynamite.