Mike

I wasn't really interested in Mike Tyson at first, but I remember when he first started boxing. He was like a shark. He was powerful and swift and economical. No moves were wasted. He'd come into the ring, throw a punch: boom. Done. His first 19 fights were all knock-outs. He was a champ for sure, but he wasn't The Greatest. Not even close. He wasn't graceful or beautiful or charming or funny. In fact he may have been the opposite of all those things. He was scary. Any humanity he had was wrapped up, folded, and locked away. Then he had a downward spiral, and he became even more scary.

But there was something curious about him. A person is never all one thing, and details came out. He was 13, fatherless and had been in jail 38 times when Cus found him and brought him into his home. He kept pigeons as pets and once watched as a bully took his favorite one and ripped its head off with his bare hands. His mother died when he was 16. Then there's the more recent stuff, the Holyfield fight, the prison sentence, the accidental death of his 4 year old daughter. This guy knows pain. And he knows how to keep going. How can you not love that in a person? Tonight I'm going to hear him tell his story on stage. I'll keep you posted.