Smash Dance

While it was not vintage Mike Tyson fury, it was more than enough. Last Friday night, Tyson, the former heavyweight champion, broke Donovan (Razor) Ruddock's jaw, knocked him down twice, split his lip and all but closed his left eye while winning a 12-round decision at the Mirage Hotel in Las Vegas.

The last time these two fought, on March 18 at the Mirage, Ruddock weighed 228 pounds and lost when referee Richard Steele called a controversial cease-fire in the seventh round. This time Ruddock came in 10 pounds heavier and fought more as if he were out to prove Steele wrong than to beat Tyson. Ruddock's courage proved to be of 12-round quality, but the decision was close only because Tyson hit him in the cup nearly as often as he hit him on the chin.

Referee Mills Lane penalized Tyson two points for low blows and another point for hitting after the bell. Ruddock was fined one point for hitting after the bell. Following an exchange of low blows in the 11th round, Lane, a 5'7" former Marine who's now a Nevada district court judge in Reno, growled at both fighters, "You knock that——off, both of you."

For most of the opening round, Tyson looked like the man who had knocked out 33 of his first 37 opponents. In the first 1:56, he fired 19 jabs, a weapon he had hardly used in his loss by knockout to Buster Douglas in February 1990 and in his three victories since then. They were hard jabs, the opening salvo for a powerful barrage, the furious Tyson trademark.

But as quickly as the old Tyson appeared, he vanished, and the Tyson enigma continued. The new Tyson hesitates; openings come and go untested. He is still haunted by the Douglas knockout, and sometimes his finger freezes on the trigger. The pre-Douglas Tyson fired combinations with abandon, in bursts of three and four punches with hardly a pause. The current Tyson hits once, twice and grabs. Or permits himself to be grabbed.

What's more, he has fallen victim to puncher's syndrome: The small deadly punches with which he once set up his victims have been all but discarded. The chisels and mallets have been left in the toolshed; only the sledgehammer is brought to work. After a few hard nights at the office, an enlightened puncher returns to the basics that made him successful. Tyson has yet to see the light.

As a result, he couldn't effectively follow up either of his two knockdowns of Ruddock. In the second round, a moment after Lane had warned him for a low blow, Tyson slammed a right hand against the side of Ruddock's head. Ruddock dropped to one knee and rose to his feet before Lane could pick up the count at three. When Tyson returned to the attack, a hook found Ruddock just below his yellow belt line. Lane stopped the action to warn Tyson again. The pause gave Ruddock time to recover.

Returning to his corner at the bell, Ruddock found bedlam. All four of his cornermen talked to him at once. It went like this: "Keep moving right.... Start punching, Donnie.... You're not bending your knees.... Do you hear me, son?...Use your jab...." Ruddock cast his eyes about in bewilderment. He was seated in a Tower of Babel.

At least he was seated. Twice his cornermen forgot to bring a stool into the ring right away between rounds. Four times they left it there, and the Nevada Athletic Commission inspector had to remove it. Following the fourth round, in which he suffered his second knockdown, Ruddock stood in his corner talking to his brother, Delroy, who's also his manager. After 32 seconds, a stool appeared and someone said, "You want to sit down?" The fighter sank to the seat gratefully.

Ruddock went down in Round 4 when Tyson caught him with a right hook counter over a missed right uppercut. Ruddock landed on the seat of his trunks, grinned as though amused, rolled onto his left side and was up before Lane could say "four." Except for those who have been punched silly, few boxers appear to enjoy being knocked down more than Ruddock.