Seasoned journalists from major international boxing news outlets, world-renowned boxing writers, top-level trainers, and people who witnessed and reported on Mike Tyson during his prime all agree on one thing: Paul vs. Tyson was not a fixed fight. It was a sad and, in some ways, grotesque match in which a nearly 60-year-old former champion gave everything he had left in the first two rounds before running out of gas, only to be spared by a Paul who was thankfully unwilling to commit murder in the ring. However, the fierce and indomitable Mike Tyson fanatics refuse to believe this and have been crying conspiracy for days. This article is dedicated to them: a lighthearted tease aimed at those who, even in adulthood, still believe in superheroes.
In the magical world of Mike Tyson fanatics, if boxing history includes (very few) figures capable of delivering high-level performances beyond the age of 45, then it must also be possible at nearly 60. The fact that these exceptional figures led nearly monastic lives characterized by strict professionalism and never stopped training, of course, is deemed irrelevant.
In the magical world of Mike Tyson fanatics, watching an exhibition between two aging former boxers (Mike Tyson vs. Roy Jones), where the rules explicitly forbid power punches, provides definitive insights into their athletic level and offers crystal-clear indications of what they could do in a real match.
In the magical world of Mike Tyson fanatics, if Iron Mike delivered that performance against Jones four years ago, he can surely replicate it today. The fact that he has aged from 54 to 58 in the meantime, suffered sciatic nerve inflammations so severe they temporarily confined him to a wheelchair, and endured an ulcer that made him vomit blood are mere anecdotes irrelevant to this discussion.
In the magical world of Mike Tyson fanatics, brief clips of a boxer hammering a heavy bag or focus mitts during training are highly indicative of his fitness. They don’t question how much time Mike needed to recover between actions, fail to notice the carefully chosen camera angles designed to impress, and overlook how much easier it is to hit a stationary target than a moving opponent.
In the magical world of Mike Tyson fanatics, Jake Paul is akin to a random man plucked off the street while walking his dog and thrown into the ring with no clue what to do. The five years Paul has spent training intensively under elite coaches and athletic trainers, along with the experience he has gained from previous fights, mean nothing. He remains a “YouTuber” and, as such, could never defeat a former boxer—even if the latter were as old as Methuselah.
In the magical world of Mike Tyson fanatics, if Iron Mike didn’t unleash punches that looked ready to explode in the first two rounds or if he aborted a punch mid-motion, it means he threw the fight and didn’t want to secure the KO. The reality that late-career boxers lose timing, vision, reactivity, and reflexes necessary to execute punches at the right moment is a minor detail. The idea that Tyson might have refrained from throwing a right hand because he realized he wasn’t in range at the last second is beyond their comprehension of boxing.
In the magical world of Mike Tyson fanatics, dodging punches burns more energy than throwing them, so if Tyson spent the last five rounds of the fight constantly slipping punches, it means he could have attacked if he wanted to. The notion that those “punches” were little more than pity taps from a merciful Paul aiming only to win rounds is not a consideration they entertain.
In the magical world of Mike Tyson fanatics, the third round of Paul vs. Tyson never happened. There were only the first two rounds, in which Mike was on the attack, and the last five, in which Mike was merely surviving. The one round where Paul turned up the intensity, showing the world that Tyson couldn’t even see the punches coming and reacted with wide eyes like someone who had no idea what was hitting him, has been erased from their memories.
In the magical world of Mike Tyson fanatics, there was a secret clause in the contracts that forced Mike to hold back because a KO victory would have cost him a significant portion of his purse. Never mind that such a clause would never pass athletic commission scrutiny, would be considered illegal even in Duckburg, and that any judge in the world would laugh in the face of someone demanding Tyson return his earnings based on this alleged agreement.
In the magical world of Mike Tyson fanatics, when one day—hopefully far in the future—Iron Mike leaves this world, it will still be too soon to declare him a finished fighter. After all, he could rise from the underground, punching through the earth, stand tall once more, challenge the reigning heavyweight champion of the world, and reclaim the belt that is rightfully his.