Iron Mike,
My sincerest condolences for the tragic loss of your daughter Exodus on Tuesday. I was saddened by the news. Though I'm not qualified to hold this opinion, I think you are probably a good and loving father, and loved in return.
Growing up, you were my favorite boxer. Truthfully, I wasn't really a fan of the sport; but I was a fan of yours. I liked watching your fights to try to discern the meaning of your tattoos. You made me dust off the Britannica and look up names like Mao Zedong and Arthur Ashe.
I liked your story, that you'd grown up poor and alone on the mean streets of Bed-Stuy and had to fight your way out.
Some of my friends used to make fun of your voice, but I thought it was cool. I liked the dichotomous pairing of the small voice with the big punch. I doubt they would have poked fun if you were around. I speak softly, and though I've never punched anyone, growing up I liked to think I packed the same firepower (perhaps intellectually or rhetorically).
Mostly, I liked your post fight rants. Watching you speak always carried the possibility that you would launch into an intense lyrical trash talk about your next opponent; often these were as laden with historical allusions as your body art. You were the original battle rapper, with an emphasis on battle.
This is a dumb gag, but, I had an older brother named Alex. Whenever my mother would call for him by his full name, I would wait for him to respond before interrupting in my best Tysonesque falsetto:
"You think you Alexander? I'm Alexander!"
Of course, like all boys who grew up when I did, I loved Mike Tyson's Punch Out on Nintendo.
As I progressed into my teenage years you continued to guide me towards the experience of new art and culture through your involvement, such as the James Toback film "Black & White" or the rapper Canibus. While your contemporary star athletes were pushing McDonalds and Nike, you lent your presence to projects of substance and intellectual rigor.
We met once. I doubt you would remember. It was the late 90's and I was in high school. I've never much cared for autographs or meeting celebrities, but we literally ran into eachother walking down the street in Miami. It's always stuck in my head.
I remember that, even though you'd walked down red carpets in Armani and prison halls in starchy jumpsuits, that day you were just walking down the street like a normal person. I do recall that you were wearing a platinum chain. I think it said "Mike 2000".
I was with my buddy Alfred, and you had two friends with you whose names I didn't learn. I remember how friendly you were. After we recognized you and introduced ourselves, your friends looked bored and walked off to talk with some girls. But you stuck around and spent a few minutes with us.
I can't recall what we talked about, only that you took the time to answer all our questions and asked us questions in return. I remember that you kept calling me "player."
Through all the less than stellar press coverage you've gotten since, that day is usually that first thing that comes to mind when I hear your name. I've always considered it a rule that, no matter what nasty things you may hear about someone, if they treat you respectfully then thats how they should be treated in return. I'll bet that most of the people who have really met Mike Tyson hold him in much higher regard than those who have merely read the news stories.
Speaking of those news stories, Mike. I recently read a quote somewhere where you said you think your life has been a joke. I hope you don't really feel that way. I'm sure that the tragic loss of Exodus has you re-examining, and that this process can be excruciatingly tough.
Perhaps you're not Alexander after all, but Job, and your life until now has been a test of your loyalty that will pay off in blessed latter days.
Hang in there player,
Moses M.
