All The Rage

Self-pity has always been the big equalizer in Tyson's life, as if it balances his recurring and violent hatred for others. "I hate myself sometimes," he says, slipping into a melodramatic mode that has ensured steady and sympathetic press over the years. What? A surprised scribe asks, "You hate yourself?" Tyson calculates the effect. "Every day of my life," he says.

As you can see, Mike Tyson is a franchise in need of constant tuning, the demands of manhood constantly up for calibration, and the franchise spends a lot of time in the shop. Does he hate Lennox Lewis? "I love Lennox Lewis," he says. "Of course I love him. He has the dignity of any fighter." Or does he hate him? "At that press conference, if I had the right crew, he should have died that night."

But this is a franchise many believe is worth keeping in working order. Showtime may have invested as much as $30 million in this latest comeback—"Let's say," says Showtime's Larkin, teasingly, "we've been supportive at key times"—and is a long way toward breaking even. America Presents, which was Tyson's promoter of record for a while, is on the ropes financially and is still trying to recoup more than $1 million of its loan to Tyson. Others may be on the line.

If past fiscal behavior is any indication, Tyson, too, needs this promotion to work. He is broke. "I've blown a half billion," he says, "money don't be a big issue for me. I like a good time more than money."

Apparently a good time costs money. According to court documents filed in connection with Tyson's suit against King, in which he claims King fraudulently diverted more than $40 million from him, it is not cheap being heavyweight champion of the world or even a defrocked contender. The documents indicate that the fighter was forced into an onerous contract that gave King and "co-managers" John Home and Rory Holloway a full 50% of his income. King, who was supposed to get 30% (with an additional 10% each to Home and Holloway), somehow wound up, according to Tyson's lawyers, with $113 million to Tyson's $112 million. "I guess I wasn't giving them my money fast enough," Tyson says.

King's lawyers call Tyson's claim "frivolous and deceptive" and have filed a counterclaim asserting that King had a 10-fight deal with Tyson, which the fighter breached after the second Holyfield bout. Tyson, they say, earned "millions more than he now claims," and King earned "a lot less."

No matter where the truth lies, it's almost impossible to imagine that a more favorable division of income would have left Tyson a nest egg. In the three years before his estrangement from King—from 1995 through '97—Tyson spent heroically. According to court documents, accountant Mohammed Khan set forth Tyson's finances and told the fighter his spending was in the deficit area, accountingwise. "Moe," Tyson told him, "I can't have it and not spend it."

Said Khan, " Mr. Tyson makes his money and he spends his money, and nobody can tell him anything about it."

Here's how to go broke on $112 million: Spend $115 million. Through the 33 months of Tyson's first comeback, Khan's accounting statement shows that Tyson spent $4,477,498 on automobiles and motorcycles. Under the item "cash & personal expenses" (walking-around money), average monthly outlay came to $236,184. Jewelry and clothing: $94,555 per month. He spent $411,777 on pigeons and cats. (He owned a lion, which he famously sparred with; "Oh, my God!" King yelled at the sight of the big cat's swiping at Tyson. "He done give him a right-hand paw!") He gave a birthday party in 1996 that cost $410,822. Taxman? He got $32.4 million. Houses, of course, were expensive. Lawn care for his Las Vegas home (one of three he owned) was $309,133 for that period.

He gave automobiles to 15 women and two men: Alicia, Gabriella, Tiffany, Hillery, Jeannine, Rosalinda, Isadore....