Book Excerpt

…At that point all hell broke loose – punches, fists, shoving, flying objects, it was a live riot 20 yards away. Everyone in the audience was on their feet now. Was this really happening?

This was certainly not a staged brawl to generate extra publicity. This was real.

“I have no doubt he was definitely trying to sucker punch me,” Lewis would say later. Rushing across the stage, throwing the hat down…I have no doubt he was planning something. And I wasn’t going to wait around to find out.”

When the mayhem finally did quell, though not until about two or three minutes, Tyson emerged to the front right of the stage with his arms aloft in triumph, acting as if he’d just won something. Nobody knew – maybe he had beaten Lewis unconscious. Lewis was still not in view. Was he injured? Where was he? (Lewis was okay, except for a bite on his thigh from Tyson.)

Then Tyson began grabbing his crotch and making obscene gestures to the Lewis section sitting in the audience. That group, which included the champ’s mother Violet, was sitting in the front left rows. This is when I cupped my hands and loudly booed Tyson.

Everyone in the place heard me, including Tyson, who was momentarily stunned. He quickly identified his heckler in the sixth row, and he looked very pissed off. I didn’t care that he saw me boo him. I was angry too. This man had just committed three crimes – first degree assault on the world heavyweight champion, lewd behavior and disturbing the peace. And nobody else was saying or doing a damn thing about it. Where the hell were the police? We’d just watched a criminal break the law and raise his hands in victory.

When Tyson and I made eye contact, he tried to intimidate me, but for some reason I wasn’t scared. I was still far more disgusted by his crime spree than worried about any dirty looks.

Tyson was still standing there surrounded by his entourage, which included boxer Zab Judah and the trainer Stacey McKinley an a few others. He turned away from the audience, thinking his heckler was finished. But I wasn’t. About 30 seconds later, without considering the consequences, I cupped my hands to my mouth again. This time I shouted, “Get him a strait-jacket!”

Tyson erupted like it was the first time in a very long time anyone had insulted him to his face, in front of a crowd. He absolutely exploded. And he knew who had made the heckle and would not tolerate any more disrespect. He took a few threatening steps to the lip of the stage and launched into a vicious tirade. This is what Tyson said to me:

“Fuck you, you ho! Come on and say it to my face up here, whiteboy! I’ll (inaudible) your ass in front of everybody! You bitch. Come on you punk ass bitch. You’re scared, coward! See, you’re scared. You’re not man enough to fuck with me. You can’t touch me! You’re not man enough. I’ll eat your (inaudible) alive, motherfucker. You can’t last two minutes in my world, bitch! Look at you, you’re scared now, you ho! Scared like a little white pussy. Scared of the real man! I’ll fuck you till you love me, faggot!”

I tried to maintain a stoic expression despite the vulgarity of the verbal assault. For a few seconds I felt fear, Holy Shit! Tyson might actually jump down and decapitate me…

“Heavyweight Armageddon: The Tyson-Lewis Championship Battle” is available at www.amazon.com, barnesandnoble.com and borders.com.