Float Like A Breezeblock, Sting Like A Ballistic Missile
I always liked watching Mike Tyson box because he fights like he’s got somewhere to be in about 20 minutes and he really doesn’t want to be late. He’s usually halfway to the locker room before his opponent hits the floor. Of course, he somehow manages to get lost on the way back to his corner, but there’s four corners to choose from so I can see how he’d get confused.
I even enjoy watching his interviews because it’s like watching a slow-motion train wreck as he slurs and spits his way through every syllable. It makes you appreciate how some humans are built to do one thing and one thing only. While some people are natural-born accountants or used car salesmen, Mike Tyson is a janitor — he takes whoever is within arm’s length and mops the floor with them. He takes out the trash like you wouldn’t believe, and it appears that he really likes his job.
I’d like my job too if I got sent a six-figure check for a match that had a longer weigh-in than actual fight. That seems like a pretty good deal.