I, like many others, have to do a lot of things that I don’t necessarily want to do. Sometimes I have days in which the balance between the things I want to do vs. things I don’t want to do tips heavily in favour of the latter. A day where I have to carry out a lot of chores and end it by going to work all night would be a fine example. Occasionally these days agitate me a great deal, but I know that the things I hate doing are things that must be done to maintain some semblance of a normal life. Yesterday afternoon, however, I decided that I would do some things that I did want to do, namely, watch the new Tyson filmand then possibly write a blog about it. I like these two activities.
So, I settled to watch the Tyson film and I remember thinking early on, “I’m sure this was meant to be a documentary”, and then as it progressed, “I thought this was meant to be good”, (Don King was scripted to be so evil, they may as well have stuck a forked tail up his arse and little horns in his preposterous bouffant, whilst making him parade around stabbing a pitchfork into wads of Mike Tyson’s money). It was only when the film ended abruptly with Tyson being sentenced for rape that I thought, “Hold on, he’s fucked up loads more since that happened”. My lengthy perturbation was finally leant credence by a string of atavistic statements that appeared prior to the credits, one of which proclaimed that, ‘Mike Tyson would be due for release from prison in 1995’. The confusion occurred because I didn’t bother to research anything about the new film and relied only on my hazy recollection of a recent glowing review I’d read. It seems the pirate DVD vendor was also as ill informed as me, so for 1 hour and 40 mins, what I actually watched was a 1995 film adaptation of Mike Tyson’s life, by the same name.
I was pissed off that I’d wasted my time watching an old and average film, when I could have been gaining real insight into Tyson’s rollercoaster life from the man himself. I felt cheated, as if I’d gone to watch a concert and instead of the band appearing on stage there was just a group of life sized mannequins that jigged up and down in time to the tunes emanating from a JVC RC-M90 ghetto blaster, played through a string of megaphones to the disenchanted crowd.
In my mounting fury though, I smashed nothing, swore very little and involved no other party in my disappointment. I shudder to think what may have happened had the actual Mike Tyson befallen such a scenario. I did learn from the film that Mike Tyson was probably not endowed with a great deal of patience and was also a profoundly angry man. These two traits, coupled with rigorous training and natural strength and power made him the incredible boxer he was and, as such, those around him would happily put up with anything he did, so as to reap the rewards of his talent. It’s the same with all those elite in their field, be it boxing or poetry. If you are enough in demand you can basically do as you please. Cristiano Ronaldo is recent proof of that following his display of petulance after being substituted against Manchester City. The public are angered by such outbursts – no one likes Naomi Campbell anymore do they? – and they always want justice and harsh punishments, like a night in the stocks or a session on the rack, to make these people know they have misbehaved! But these punishments will never materialise and we are all fully aware of that. These superstars have abilities – be it the ability to turn heads, turn defenders, or turn people’s faces into a bloody pulp – that few will ever possess and in this world of the mass produced average that aims to plane all to a satisfactory level, that makes them special. Unfortunately, as is so often the case, the true punishment of the genius is personal immolation. I watch the demise of Mike Tyson on screen and then watch Cristiano Ronaldo without hate for his actions, but concern that this outburst is not the first, not the last and not the worst that is to come.