By Trigo Egbegi
Fortuitously and unfortuitously, developments in the boxing establishment compel some of us to subject ourselves to deep, serious interrogation, as to the core essence of the sport in today’s world.

“Are we getting it right, after all?” seems the nagging tiny question about a sport we are nearly totally consumed in – rain or shine – for much of our productive lives. It’s like one’s gone too far into the race to consider retreat/surrender at this point in time.

I have never considered boxing as the best discipline to be found in the world of sports, even allowing for the fact that this is about the most visible high-profile event that has broken down all perceived barriers – ranging from racial/ethnic bias to social dictates.

Black or white, rich or poor, tall or short, big or little in size, literate or illiterate; handsome or ugly, boxing hasn’t shut its doors to any aspiring practitioner, the world over.

Only members of the fairer sex are struggling to catch on. But, that is not for any gender-induced reason.
Probably, the biggest point boxing has scored is providing sanctuary for countless proven or potential social misfits/outcasts the world over, enabling these otherwise lost souls retrace their way back to mainstream society that had forsaken them.

In essence, boxing (as a sport) provides guidance for the misguided ones fortunate to locate the opportunity and ride the crest to freedom, victory and success.

Many are the numbers among the universally troubled and underprivileged who have ridden this crest to glory, and who in the course have influenced events and touched the lives of even persons not in any form related to the sport. For instance, Roberto Duran emerged as the one-time skinny, hungry kid who swam shark-infested waters to pick wild coconuts on the island of Coiba, who was later to put his native Panama prominently in the world map.

Or the surly youth named George Foreman whose destructive firsts were guided out of the path of trouble to the world heavyweight throne and the riches it commanded. Big George earned the bonus reward by graduating from the ring to become the reverend man of God he is today.

My greatest idol, though, is the irresistible Muhammad Ali who employed his noble office as the world heavyweight champion to influence a major global event of his era. Aside of his unmatched ring accomplishments, Ali scored his most significant victory for mankind by way of his personal sacrifice challenging his native America’s invasion of Vietnam.

Years later, the US got the point, and called off the war.
Ali, Foreman and Duran are just three of several renowned boxing heroes whose prime responsibility is to the larger society than the sport they represented in their prime, and for which they were deservedly honoured with induction to the boxing Hall of Fame. This event has been running yearly for decades.

I must confess I’m not very comfortable with the 2011 edition – all because of the key inductee, Mike Tyson. I must be a leftist to raise objection to the choice of a name that made so much news for close to 20 years while he plied his wares in the ring.

Straight to the point. It is my contention – and that of millions of followers of the sport – that Mike Tyson makes a rather poor choice for the award of a honor reserved for and bestowed only on heroes deserving of such honour. Those that are the true ambassadors of the game.

Who is Mike Tyson, I ask?

Was he a success, in the real sense of the boxing sport, and what it stands for? Whose life did he touch positively?

For all the noise the choice may have generated, this is the story of the journey from darkness to light, and back to darkness; from the degenerate to acceptance, and back; from hopelessness to hope, and back; from want to surplus, and back; from obscurity to recognition, and back; of a bum to whom was generously handed the opportunity to live among decent people.

It is the story of a man first discovered and rescued as a boy by the late Cus D’Amato while languishing in a New York State reformatory.

Tyson’s background held the key to his life. As a troubled child abandoned by his father, he had become a prominent figure in gang feuds when barely ten years old. At 12, Tyson was already a leader busting adults, and at 14 was meeting police head-on in shootouts. But for the venerable D’Amato who introduced him to the virtues of the sport, Tyson should be a dead and forgotten man today.

The brighter side of Tyson tells how he was guided and nurtured on the path of boxing, turning pro in 1984 as a teenager and emerging the youngest ever world heavyweight title holder in 1987 at age 20.

Like Foreman and Floyd Patterson before him, Tyson was expected to employ his new-found trappings and adjust into the society he had found difficult to fit into as a child. It turned out the man_child was unable to quit his identity as a bad dude, not fit to live in normal life among decent people.

To his everlasting discredit, Tyson never utilized his accomplishments, freedom and success to rub off on society.

Tyson was propelled, largely, by a natural self_destruct tendency by which he derived pleasure hurting innocent people. Unprovoked assaults on defenseless people in the streets, parking lots and night clubs, as well as perpetrating rape on women. Yet, he enjoyed the support and protection of the fight fraternity which saw in Tyson a human dynamo that generated millions of Dollars in return.

It is no secret that Mike Tyson made well over 100 million Dollars from purse earnings alone while he stayed atop the division.
Lawsuits, out-of-court settlements, and reckless living, coupled with exploitation suffered in the hands of his many supposed business associates, all combined to return Tyson to the degenerate, lowly life he lives today.