Heroes who are really villains don’t deserve a sporting chance
Welcoming rapist Mike Tyson to Dublin sends the wrong message to athletes and victims, writes Sophie Donaldson
‘When do we call time on our fallen sporting gods? How many times must they break the law?’
WHEN I was 13, my father gave me a pair of pink boxing gloves. The blue pair I had been using weren’t quite padded enough, and the red pairs that he wore were comically bulbous at the end of my twiglike arms.
My new gloves were a snug fit and smelt of clean, boxfresh leather. I wore them during our sparring sessions in our large steel garage. In one corner, hanging from a heavy chain, was a blue leather boxing bag.
Sometimes I would wrap my arms around it and let my body fall into it, the chain taut as I swung idly against its dead weight. Other times, I would land feeble blows against it, my pink leather landing patter-patter against the padded bag as Dad hovered by my side offering a stream of encouragement and tactical advice.
I always found my father’s calm, intelligent, compassionate nature at odds with his passion for boxing. I still do, and so I asked him why he is so drawn to the sport.
He explained that, as a boy growing up in Western Sydney, the boxing club down the road was a social hub.
“Two old blokes would give us teenagers basic lessons every Friday,” he explained.
“I experienced a sense of alone-ness (as opposed to loneliness) unlike anything I’ve ever experienced since. I was to survive solely on my own wits, my own physical and mental resources, in an environment where another person wanted to hurt me. There were no parents to hold my hand, no friends to back me up, no one. Running away was not an option. I discovered great cowardice inside me and, occasionally, great courage which I never suspected myself of having. I never knew the two could co-exist inside a person. A great life lesson.”
A few years later, on the other side of the world, another teenager was learning life lessons from boxing.
Mike Tyson was nearly 14 and in juvenile detention when he first met legendary boxing trainer Cus D’Amato. What followed is now written into sporting lore: D’Amato, the relentless, hungry trainer and Tyson, the feckless, fearless and supremely talented young boxer had a few short years together before D’Amato’s death in 1985, just over 12 months before Tyson became world champ at the tender age of 20 years and four months.
Tyson’s childhood in Brooklyn was marked by cruelty, brutality and addiction. With D’Amato, he experienced a paternal, caring relationship for the first time. D’Amato’s death is often cited as fundamental to the cataclysmic years that followed for Tyson, including the breakdown of his first marriage to Robin Givens, who described their relationship as “torture, living hell”.
In 1992, he was convicted of raping 18-year-old Desiree Washington, a beauty pageant entrant. Tyson was sentenced to six years in prison although he was released after three, after which he emerged as a ‘‘changed man’’ who had converted to Islam.
This was the first of Tyson’s pleas for absolution. He continued to fight after his release, and win. He also grappled with addiction, alco- holism, adultery and another divorce. In 1997, he infamously bit opponent Evander Holyfield on both ears during a fight, which resulted in Tyson being disqualified and fined $3m.
When it comes to his conviction for raping Washington, Tyson continues to maintain his innocence, though he is not always able to contain his rage. In 2003, during an interview with Fox News, he claimed to be so angry that “now I really do want to rape her,” and referred to her as a “wretched swine of a woman” during a 2008 documentary. In the same film, he conceded that while he never assaulted Washington, he “may have took advantage of women before”.
Tyson is coming to The Helix in Dublin this November. The show is billed as a tell-all meet and greet, in which audience members will be privy to intimate stories of Tyson’s life told by the man himself. It’s just one endeavour among a myriad of post-boxing career pursuits which have included film roles, playing both characters and himself, documentaries, books and branded collaborations with manufacturers, ranging from computer games to motorcycles.
It will be yet another opportunity for Tyson to make a case for redemption. His mother was an addict, maybe a prostitute. He was badly bullied. D’Amato was both a saviour and a dictator, instilling in Tyson a sense of brutal entitlement that he has never really lost.
When do we call time on our fallen sporting gods? How many times must they break the law, propagate hateful slurs, glorify brutality and threaten sexual violence until it is right and proper for them to step away from the podium, or for us to dismantle their pedestal?
Welcoming characters like Tyson reinforces a troubling double-standard we continue to uphold when it comes to gifted athletes who either break the law or engage in morally corrupt behaviour.
Tyson’s hubristic existence is the stuff of cautionary tales, not fodder for a one-man stage show. Absolution cannot be granted ad infinitum for those who endorse and indulge in rapacious behaviour time and time again.
To young athletes, we send the message that their talent will excuse them from culpability. To victims, we send the message that even a conviction will not be enough to dim their star.