Well, hey, at least America appeared unified on a single topic for once, and that was that the Mike Tyson-Jake Paul boxing match stunk. The disgust that swept through social media last night was justified and at times comical. The most common words being flung around were “sad” and “fixed” and “buffering,” as a merciful God made sure that the live stream for Netflix’s foray into the combat world staggered the details through a night of hitting refresh and softly spoken expletives.
If your live feed froze, here’s what you might’ve missed. A magnificent war between Katie Taylor and Amanda Serrano, that is well worth going back for. Ditto the Mario Barrios-Abel Ramos battle, a tale of two fights, which ended in a draw. Mike Tyson’s fully exposed ass, which was captured with great focus as he walked away from a pre-fight interview with his son, Amir, before the fight. Logan Paul spraying his W body spray around the festivities as if to cover up the stench.
And then, for eight two-minute rounds, Paul carrying the 58-year-old Tyson, who was nothing more than a husk of the “Baddest Man on the Planet” version of himself that we’d much prefer to remember. What did we expect? Tyson to look sprier and stronger than ever? Bless our hearts if that was the case.
No, you know what? In the end we got exactly what we came for. A creeping sense of self-loathing and sharable guilt, all of which is like a campfire for social media bonding. Lampooning is a drug like no other. That’s the good content. Nobody was duped. This fight proudly carried red flags like they were sigils in the noble houses of Westeros. The 31-year disparity in ages was meant to tap into a sense of awe and audacity, and the very idea that “Iron” Mike Tyson would materialize as some form of his vintage self was an indictment on our gullibility.
Which, of course, is what the fight was designed to do. To pair off some sacred nostalgia with the proud nuisances of our day, and let the feelings in between draw us in. Behind all of this is Paul, who just about everybody wants to punch in the mouth. After all, what is he offering? The temptation in this case would be to say, “elder abuse” or “a sh*t show,” which he’d be okay with him, but that’s not it.
What he’s offering is a mirror. To our passing interests and the times. In a world of shortening attention spans, a fight like this brought in a giant from the monocultural days of our deepest focus and put it up against a fast lane of emotional manipulation. Paul has his foot on the gas to take us places we don’t want to go. Tyson was the tether to a simpler time. The fallout of everyone saying it was a farce on social media afterward? All the texts being exchanged about how stupid it all was? Well, there is comfort in numbers. The need to corroborate feelings is the whole point when a promoter understands the magic power of fleeting.
Condemn it all you want. But Jake Paul made us look, and no amount of “I hate myself for watching that” will change the final tally. At least we have that great Taylor-Serrano bout, which will certainly go down as one of the best fights of 2024. Not that the intended audience is talking about that today. Substance is in the eye of the beholder.
In the end, it would’ve been nice if Tyson had a better showing. If he could have made it a competitive fight. Yet by the time he took a couple of shots that wobbled him in the third round, there were little humiliations to be found everywhere. Paul didn’t want to hurt Tyson, and therefore didn’t want to put him away, which is the point of boxing. To ease up meant to extend the sad spectacle to the bitter end. To pat a once proud champion on the head at a time in life when he should be enjoying the spoils of what he’s already achieved. The silver lining specialists out there gave Tyson his kudos for making it through eight rounds against a younger fighter, and that was fine too.
It’s all a matter of how you want to view it.
But there was never going to be a good outcome here. Tyson was one of the greatest boxers of all time, and that fact carried him into the ring some 30 years out of his prime. Paul — who to his credit has developed into a decent boxer over the past few years — has learned, if nothing else, to shout loudest into the ever-expanding swipe-down void of our times. Fitting for a night when refreshing the app brought things into clearer focus.
And that was this: If Jake Paul is an idiot, what does that say about the rest of us?
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