I had already read your second piece, but not this first interview. Tyson, as a boxer, was underestimated, dehumanized, and soundly mocked as an untalented street beast when he was a highly trained athlete who tricked his opponents into thinking he was all power and no brains, with his Ali-like violent patter, “push the bone into the skull,” and so on. He was highly technical, and those combinations “no one had ever seen” were D’Amato and Rooney’s training for Tyson’s somewhat unique build. As a similarly short and leg-strong fighter myself—amateur only, I do not even jokingly compare myself to these pinnacle athletes—I trained using some of his own methods of getting inside the reach of taller fighters, making them punch down while I had free rein to shovel hook the liver, uppercut the head, and hook the kidneys, and it is not an easy thing to train. If you don’t get under the reach, you take a beating. And I imagine Tyson took some as he learned to use his strengths. I was amused that you mentioned Rocky, as Stallone mocked Tyson in Rocky III by having Mr. T play “Clubber Lang,” an uncouth, violent street fighter who loses to the white hope’s superior skill. (I had to watch all those films because my father’s best friend was Stallone’s executive bodyguard.) As a fighter, he changed the sport. This was an enlightening read, even though I knew the legend of his early days. As for why fighters fight? Tyson gives us the answer. He is not fighting Satan, but Death; when you defeat an opponent in a ring or cage it is like taking one of Death’s pieces off the chess board, if you were Max Von Sydow in The Seventh Seal. But as we all know, Death cheats, and always wins. But that fleeting feeling of immortality that comes with a triumph, spoken freely by 20-year-old Tyson, is as driving a force as feeding himself was for Dempsey (“If I didn’t win, I didn’t eat”). And it’s a hunger that can sometime never be sated.
I've been rereading High Lonesome (a favorite before bed) and read Golden Gloves a few nights ago. This Tyson piece and understanding your relationship to boxing is the perfect follow up! (My Warszawa:1980 is worth rereading right now, too.)
thanks for this unexpected & thoughtful letter! warmly,
Joyce Carol Oates
thanks, Tom! wonderful to hear from you. Joyce
I had already read your second piece, but not this first interview. Tyson, as a boxer, was underestimated, dehumanized, and soundly mocked as an untalented street beast when he was a highly trained athlete who tricked his opponents into thinking he was all power and no brains, with his Ali-like violent patter, “push the bone into the skull,” and so on. He was highly technical, and those combinations “no one had ever seen” were D’Amato and Rooney’s training for Tyson’s somewhat unique build. As a similarly short and leg-strong fighter myself—amateur only, I do not even jokingly compare myself to these pinnacle athletes—I trained using some of his own methods of getting inside the reach of taller fighters, making them punch down while I had free rein to shovel hook the liver, uppercut the head, and hook the kidneys, and it is not an easy thing to train. If you don’t get under the reach, you take a beating. And I imagine Tyson took some as he learned to use his strengths. I was amused that you mentioned Rocky, as Stallone mocked Tyson in Rocky III by having Mr. T play “Clubber Lang,” an uncouth, violent street fighter who loses to the white hope’s superior skill. (I had to watch all those films because my father’s best friend was Stallone’s executive bodyguard.) As a fighter, he changed the sport. This was an enlightening read, even though I knew the legend of his early days. As for why fighters fight? Tyson gives us the answer. He is not fighting Satan, but Death; when you defeat an opponent in a ring or cage it is like taking one of Death’s pieces off the chess board, if you were Max Von Sydow in The Seventh Seal. But as we all know, Death cheats, and always wins. But that fleeting feeling of immortality that comes with a triumph, spoken freely by 20-year-old Tyson, is as driving a force as feeding himself was for Dempsey (“If I didn’t win, I didn’t eat”). And it’s a hunger that can sometime never be sated.
I've been rereading High Lonesome (a favorite before bed) and read Golden Gloves a few nights ago. This Tyson piece and understanding your relationship to boxing is the perfect follow up! (My Warszawa:1980 is worth rereading right now, too.)
Thank you, Joyce Carol Oates!!
One of my GREAT favorites!