There's a man in the street right in front of us, waving for us to stop, and pointing in the air. A large man in a white jacket, gray silk shirt, gray slacks. A man with a face tattoo.
It's Mike Tyson.
A simple cab ride from McCarran to Caesars Palace. Las Vegas is exciting, all right, but this? Even before we get to the strip?
We skid to a stop, he jumps in with me, rolls down the window, and sticks his head out. "It's LaVerne," he says. "She's flown away. I almost had her but she got out. I have to catch her."
He pulls out cash, peels off a $100 bill, and tosses it over the seat to the driver. "Please, go north. She's gone north."
The driver stares in his mirror. I'm stunned. It's Mike Tyson.
"Sorry guys," he says. "I gotta get her real quick, I'm rehearsing, so I gotta get back."
"Rehearsing?" I say, wondering what would Iron Mike be rehearsing for? "I'm Brentwood Belair, Sports Blogger from LA. Lost a pigeon?"
"Not just any pigeon," he says, looking out the window, "LaVerne." Up in the sky, he points, "There, I think?"
He looks over at me. "Yeah. Rehearsing my life, with my wife Kiki. Not much to remember, 'cause it all happened to me, but she got it together, all in order, so it makes sense."
"Your life?" I say.
"My next KO, it'll be on Broadway." he says, and giggles. His voice is high. "Me and Spike Lee. Guess you didn't here. It's my one man show." He looks at me and smiles. I look away from his missing teeth. "Spike Lee, he's the guy. I've already done the show at the MGM." Again the smile. "Same place I bit off part of Holyfield's ear."
"Oh, yeah," I say, not knowing exactly how to respond. Is he still mad about the way the fight was ref'd? He's sitting right next to me. So I say, " I didn't know you were on stage, Mike. You've already done your show...at the MGM Grand?"
"Yeah, the papers reviewed me too. They said I did okay, but too many bad words. Raw and filthy they said. That's why I'm rehearsing it some more. Spike is excited. What am I gonna do? I'm almost 46."
He jerks toward the window. "There." He points toward the top of a Eucalyptus tree next to the cab. He jumps out, as the cab slows. "LaVerne, it's me, Mike. Come on, don't get lost. Fly home. Please."
I slide out too. "Mike," I say looking up into an empty tree. "I never would have guessed. Takes courage to go up on stage and talk."
"It's not hard. I'm just talking about the stuff I've done in my life. It's called. 'Undisputed Truth.' Everybody knows what's happened to me. The paper said my show was two hours of jab, jab, jab. That's a good thing."
"Like to see your show. Really sounds interesting."
"It's on DVD. That's how Spike found out about me. He saw it. I talk about Robin, and the time she comes home with Brad Pitt." His eyes turn to me. "That's right, Brad Pitt." He looks toward the open sky to the East. "I talk about my trainer, GusD'Amato, and that time in the Clinic for the cocaine. Hate to say it, but I was in prison, everybody knows." His eyes are in the trees again. "I was practicing, and then LaVerne takes off. I had to stop and find her."
He shades his eyes, looking west, high toward the sun. "Even how I felt in Japan when I fought Buster Douglas."
He points again. "There...go...fly home." He watches a plump bird darts through the air. "It's the right direction, so...maybe she's on her way. Don't get lost."
He brushes his hands together. "Good. I feel better."
"Well," I say. The man seems calm, but that face tattoo? "Glad we could get LaVerne home safe and sound."
I get back into the cab. "I was just on my way to Caesars Palace, but...you paid so much, we'll take you home." The Cabbie nods.
Mike stands there for a second. "Hey, thanks. It's not far."
We move out. The Cabbie seems too know where he lives.
Sweat forms on his forehead. His hands shake. "I saw on Twitter what people think of me. An ex felon who bites peoples ears off, beats up and rapes women. Toothless, brainless waste of human flesh." He takes a breath. "It's pretty bad. But I'm a different man now. That's what I want them to understand." He shakes his head. "People don't like what I said about Treyvon Martin. But, it's how I feel about it."
A new Mike Tyson? Or the same street kid with that lights out uppercut we watched on pay-per-view? "You've done a lot Mike, you'll have to admit. Evander Holyfield's ear?"
"Yeah, that. And remember I said I'd eat Lennox Lewis' children? All part of my show. I don't hold back no punches either, about my daughter's accident." He stops. "I could cry." He stops again, and blinks. "I got remarried. I'm doing good now."
He has his arm out the window, and is scanning the sky.
"One other thing," he says. "It's part of who I am. I'm a vegan. I'm sick of venereal diseases and being a prostitute hunter. You know, because carnivores are all syphilis-infested hookers."
Say what? Now my hands shake. My voice, it isn't there. Has he changed?
He points again. "Stop. It's LaVerne." We skid. He jumps out. "I'm going after LaVerne. You guys go. I'll be okay."
He waves, then runs off into a neighborhood of two story houses, and is gone.
Iron Mike. There right next to me. Overpowering. I didn't know quite how to act. A man whose right cross was deadly. Right there next to me. Now playing out his life on stage? Talking about himself? Will it be a Tony performance? You'll just have to get tickets and see. July 31 to Aug. 5, at the Longacre Theater, 220 West 48th Street, NYC. With tickets priced anywhere between $74.50 - $198.50, depending, of course, on close you really want to get.
..........................
Help comes from:
playbill.com/events, newyorkcitytheatre.com/theaters,
sports.yahoo.com/blogs/lookout/mike-tyson-trayvon-martin-case
Wikipedia/Mike tyson, readabilityformulas.com, Google/Images.
yardbarker.com/boxing/articles/msn/mike_tyson_on_the_today_show
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