People have an image of Mike Tyson that time can't erase. They see him as indestructible, that iron phoenix rising from the Brownsville, New York projects, fighting his way to becoming the youngest heavyweight champion in the world. After Mike set that record, becoming the lineal champ at the ripe old age of twenty-one, he declared that his record would live on in immortality. The more time passes, the more correct his prediction seems.
We all know what happened to Mike after he reached the top, and how quickly he plummeted to the bottom. There is no need to rehash that story here. The point is that when you mention Mike Tyson in his prime, utilizing the Cus D'Amato method and mauling his opponents, there are those who regard him as essentially unbeatable. Ask a boxing fan what would have happened if Tyson had fought Lennox Lewis in his prime, before Kid Dynamite's sanity and skill-set had started to slip, and most people would tell you that Mike would have swept the night.
Never mind that Tyson himself, after being bested by Lewis in the Memphis Pyramid, stated that he could never have beaten Lewis. People have their ideas about Mike Tyson and not even Tyson's opinion of himself can get in the way of their opinions about him.
So it would probably seem absurd for Tyson fans to pose the hypothetical question that this author is about to present, but here it is: What would have happened if a prime Mike Tyson had faced a prime Wladimir Klitschko? There are a few factors in play that must be addressed before these combatants even step into the ring. The first is that even if we can't precisely pinpoint when Mike's prime was, it's fairly easy to spot the general area: some time after his destruction of Michael Spinks, yet before he fell before the altar of journeyman Buster Douglas.
Klitschko's prime is a shakier concept. Although he hasn't rejuvenated his career after a long layoff in the same way that his brother, Vitali Klitschko, did, Wlad has had his share of ups and downs, and it might be fair to say that he is peaking now. After all, knocking out Eddie Chambers is a far cry from being stopped by fringe contender (at best) Ross Puritty.
All things considered, it's not fair, based on this loss, to hang the "glass jaw" tag on Wladimir. Puritty was always that dangerous "X" factor. Journeymen have a long history of upsetting the apple cart. He managed to fight a prime Tommy Morrison to a draw, the same Tommy Morrison that was capable of beating Donovan Ruddock and banging for twelve rounds against the baddest old mother in the history of the fight game, George Foreman.
As for Tyson, Teddy Atlas knew him much better than his adoring public, who regarded him as invincible. Atlas, in the book "Tyson: Money, Myth, and Betrayal," said that he never bought into the myth of "Iron Mike." One only has to look at the grainy documentary footage available on the internet which shows Mike in between Olympic Trials, crying and doubting himself. There's no shame in crying, of course, but for those close to the Tyson camp, these kinds of incidents left no doubt as to whether or not Mike was human.
Even early in his career, if an opponent didn't respond to Mike's initial all-out assault and bullying, Mike ran into problems and found himself consumed by doubt. That seed was planted early, but didn't blossom until much later, one night in Japan.
How does this relate to Wladimir Klitschko? Simple! Although Klitschko is not the robotic, Ivan Drago-esque machine that people love to portray him as, he is not one to respond to intimidation. If Klitschko had met Tyson in his prime, with the menacing scowl on his face and the world singing his praises, "Steel Hammer" wouldn't have so much as batted an eye.
So now that the psychological factor is out of the way, how do these two men square up against each other in the ring? So much of the fight can be predicted in the tale of the tape. Wladimir has such a sensational range, and Tyson was so dependent upon fighting inside, that the entire night would be a struggle of two wills: Wladimir attempting to use his fishing pole distance, versus Mike closing in and trying to make it a war in the phone booth. Who, finally, would get their way?
Speed would dictate a lot of the struggle. Mike would attempt to close the gap, his head perpetually bobbing in motion, while Klitschko's strange-angling jabs would pick Mike apart from a distance. Mike would lunge forward, throwing his famous arm punches, compact hooks from both elbows, as he ducked low and then probed with the upper-cut. One of those well-timed, well-placed shots could knock Wladimir (or any man) unconscious, but Wlad's defense is tighter than his brother's. Vitali, strangely enough, is one of the few heavyweights to drop his left hand by his side and leave his jaw exposed; a giant Tommy Hearns if you will. Speed doesn't afford him this ability so much as his range; in other words, he can leave his head exposed because he's too far away. Mike could capitalize on this if he were fighting Vitali, and he would probably end up knocking the elder brother out in the mid to late rounds.
But give the younger Klitschko the benefit of the doubt. He is wonderful at using his arms to deflect punches at close range. He would essentially toy with Mike, blocking from side to side, until Mike was gassed, at which point Wlad could risk backpedaling (very few heavyweights can fight off the back-foot) and pick Mike off at will, until Tyson was close enough to repeat the whole futile sequence. Regardless of whatever Kevin Rooney (or whoever was in his corner) told Mike, there would really be no adjustments he could make.
Mike was a phenomenon, a perpetual motion machine plus power that devastated anyone who got inside with him. Mitch Greene, not necessarily the best fighter of the Eighties, still managed to stay alive against Mike for so long because he used those long arms. Wladimir's arms are longer.
After not having success on the inside, and after being punished from the outside, the death wish would creep upon Michael, the reckless kamikaze id that caused him to nearly break Francois Botha's arm, and did cause him to bite Hollyfield's ear. There would be some reckless fouling and some unheeded warnings by the ref. None of this would phase Wladimir, who does not abandon his game plan unless he sustains an injury (which might happen in a Tyson fight). Barring some drastic or fluke action, Tyson is exhausted, bereft of stamina in the tenth, and Klitschko puts him out of his misery with one of his strange, surging jabs from an unpredictable angle.
Mike goes down, takes six or seven seconds to stand, and he beats the count. Klitschko starts in on him again, throwing those tree trunk arms, jab, jab, more jabs, a style that some find boring and others regard as complex. Mike sags to the canvas in the last thirty seconds of the round. The fight is waved off by the judge and Mike's corner man comes in moments later. It takes Tyson five minutes to fully revive. Klitschko has learned newfound respect for Mike's power, and Mike has discovered that it sucks being short.
[EDITOR'S NOTE: FightHype would like to welcome the talented skills of Joseph Hirsch to the team.]