Will Anyone Call Time on Tyson?

Incredible as it might seem, the Mike Tyson publicity machine has been cranked into action yet again ahead of his meeting with Britain's Danny Williams in Louisville, Kentucky, on Friday night, the former world heavyweight champion's latest attempt to reinvent himself as a credible performer in a division that is perhaps as short of genuine talent as at any time in almost half a century. And even more remarkably, certainly to anybody who saw Tyson beaten up by Evander Holyfield eight years ago or trounced by Lennox Lewis in Memphis in 2002, is the fact that an element of the sporting public still seems prepared to buy into the Tyson mystique.

Tyson no longer has a huge entourage of sycophants around him and, we are told, he is approaching his preparations under new coach Freddie Roach with a dedication that has not been seen from him in years. Tyson himself is on record as saying he wants seven fights and a title in the next two years. He realises the folly of his wasted years, and wants to make something of himself at last.

Maybe the truth of the matter might be a little less to do with Tyson seeing the light and the error of his ways, and more to do with the harsh economic reality that he is broke.

As a fighter, irrespective of what might happen against the faint-hearted Williams, Tyson is pretty much a busted flush. The speed and reactions that helped him become the youngest ever heavyweight champion in 1986 were already sliding by the time he lost to James "Buster" Douglas in 1990. When he was battered and humiliated by Holyfield over 11 rounds for his second defeat, the truth about Tyson had been written for all to see. He had been exposed as a fighter who traded on intimidation, buoyed by the lowlife around him who masqueraded as friends and supporters while blowing his cash on vintage champagne and hookers. Holyfield showed the world Tyson could not fight in reverse gear. He boxed a man and not the myth, ignored Tyson's army of phoney backslappers, and handed out a hammering.

Perhaps seven months later the Tyson story should have reached its conclusion. According to his former trainer Teddy Atlas: "Tyson could not stand the prospect of being undressed in public by Holyfield for a second time" and, as they say, the rest is history. In the most vile episode I have witnessed in a boxing ring, an enraged, out of control Tyson was disqualified after chewing off part of Holyfield's ear. The World Boxing Association steward in control of the fight was Leonard "Nipper" Read, now president of the British Boxing Board of Control and celebrated as the man who brought down the Kray twins during his career as a London detective.

"It was my view Tyson should never have fought again," says Read, and many would agree.

Against Lewis, Tyson was simply dreadful and seemed finished for good after absorbing too many sledgehammer blows. The word from inside the Tyson gym was that the old champion was no more than a three-round fighter and that the years of dissolute living would take their toll if Tyson could not hurt Lewis quickly. As it transpired Tyson shaded the opening round, but took a bad beating thereafter and cut a pathetic figure by the time the fight ended in the eighth round. He grovelled to Lewis for a rematch he must have known he did not merit.

Yet here we are, two years later, with Lewis retired and Tyson being paid $8m (£4.4m) to fight Williams, a nice guy who sometimes shows the fighting heart of a kitten. Despite his ability, Williams has frozen against the likes of Julius Francis and the former European champion Sinan Samil Sam. And, having finally won the British and Commonwealth titles, Williams surrendered them in abject fashion this January when, for no apparent reason, he virtually stopped fighting against the Reading journeyman Michael Sprott before losing on points. So what chance can he possibly have against Tyson?

I would not for one moment begrudge Williams his payday in this hardest of professions, but let us also recognise that there is every chance he will look like a rabbit in the headlights when the first bell sounds and Tyson's tattooed face is the one he sees advancing from the opposite corner. Too many Tyson fights have been against mismatched opponents, looking more like public executions than sporting contests, and this may be no exception if Williams goes into his shell.

Yet still the public invests. On pay per view in the United States, it costs $44.95 (£25) to watch a contest which, if you were to fancy a bet, might best be covered through a decent wager on a stoppage in the first three rounds. In Britain, Sky Box Office are inviting fans to part with £14.95. But it means little in sporting terms, except perhaps to see if Tyson retains the knockout punch that poleaxed the hapless Clifford Etienne in 49 seconds in his last outing in February last year. Nevertheless, the cash registers are chattering.

Tyson must surely know he should go nowhere near the real champion, Vitali Klitschko, because such a move would inevitably have painful repercussions for a man who has passed his 38th birthday and is fighting for little other than solvency. Far better, Tyson and his advisers might conclude, that he continues to bludgeon handpicked lesser lights in skirmishes that seem more akin to WWE wrestling events than championship boxing bouts. Come to think of it, WWE packs them in and commands huge television audiences, and I don't get that either.