One after the other, Tyson hit his opponents hard enough to leave knuckle prints on their psyches. Yet in time each of them would step back into this world of longitudes and latitudes, of zip codes and area codes, with a version of what had befallen them that sanitized the facts.
Biggs believed that his first-round stick-and-move tactics had "exposed" the real Tyson, and regarded the lack of liveliness that struck his legs afterward as a quirk of nature separate and apart from the thudding punches Tyson landed on him. By Biggs's account, the strange business with those legs became a kind of Bermuda Triangle mystery: his underpinnings just vanished into the night.
Tyson's other victims--Berbick, Thomas, Tucker, Bonecrusher Smith--had elaborate tales of could-have and shouldhave and injuries to speak of, white lies and bald-faced lies necessary for their staying in business.
Poverty made fighters; illusion kept them going.
In November, at the Larry Holmes Training Center in Easton, the eponymous owner was standing before the speed