THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Monday, August 21, 1995 TAG: 9508210112
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C1 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Column
SOURCE: Bob Molinaro
LENGTH: Medium: 72 lines
I sooner would pay $46 to watch Mike Tyson work at reading Voltaire or Mao Tse-tung than to observe him working over a hand-picked pinata.
Still, it may have been worth the donation of a couple of bucks to Don King just to witness Peter McNeeley's reaction to Saturday's Las Vegas farce.
Moments after losing the non-fight to Tyson, McNeeley, the urban moron, reportedly was smiling and high-fiving friends.
Strange behavior? Not at all. McNeeley's reaction may have been the only genuine human emotion associated with this hollow non-event.
If McNeeley sits down at a Vegas blackjack table and wins $800,000, he attracts cheering crowds and becomes everybody's best friend.
They're calling him a clown now. And for what? He climbed into a ring at the MGM Grand hotel, got knocked down twice, but escaped from the city of Lost Wages with $800,000. And without suffering any real damage.
You'd smile, too, if you were Peter McNeeley. You'd be high-fiving your friends, too.
It's a bit much the way some people are reacting to the way it all turned out. Expressing disgust for this 89-second debacle is not only a little phony, but also late.
It would be one thing if McNeeley had ever been mistaken for a genuine fighter. But he was not sent into the ring to box. He was Tyson's crash test dummy.
His corner men were premature in throwing in the towel, say the disgruntled masses. Referee Mills Lane agrees. ``He could have gone on, the kid could have gone on.''
McNeeley himself said as much. He could have gotten back up. But then what?
They all seem to be forgetting something: McNeeley wasn't being paid by the minute. His manager, Vinnie Vecchione, understood this better than anyone.
For absorbing a few punches and the jeers of the crowd, McNeeley gets to walk away a rich man. McNeeley collecting $800,000 for losing this way to Tyson is no more disgraceful than Tyson getting $25 million to fight a tomato can in the first place.
Over the last few weeks, too much angst and analysis has been wasted in the name of hyping Tyson's post-prison debut.
More bemusing than the predictable conclusion to this circus event has been the sparring between certain elements of the media over whether an unremorseful convicted rapist is deserving of our attention and money.
The logic of these arguments escapes me. Even before he went to prison, I don't recall Tyson being characterized as anything better than a crude creature of the streets.
No one pays to discover Tyson's sensitive side. His great appeal has always been that he is an unrepentant brute. People are attracted to him for the very reason that he is a thug.
Tyson may not be burdened by a conscience, but then, neither is boxing. They make a natural team. A Tyson who would show true remorse is not a fighter that could fill arenas and ring up millions in pay-per-view sales.
Fittingly, perhaps, Tyson went away from Saturday's non-fight feeling cheated, though probably less so than the suckers who plunked down money to watch him.
Meanwhile, the cipher he so easily dispatched seemed more pleased than the winner. And why not?
Tyson defeated a tomato can. McNeeley beat something much bigger. He beat a bad game. He beat boxing in only 89 seconds. ILLUSTRATION: Color photo by AP
Peter McNeeley, left, covers up as Mike Tyson leans toward him to
land another blow Saturday night in this 89-second debacle.
by CNB