Mike Tyson has always been one of those individuals whose presence is not easily ignored, whether through unmatched prowess in the boxing ring or the complexities of life off the ring. Recently, in an emotional talk with actress Rosie Perez, Tyson opened up in a deeply personal way to tell of love, loss, and the fight to keep moving.
In the conversation, Tyson opened up about a shared romantic connection that ended in heartbreak. He revealed that both he and a close friend had been involved with the same woman, who tragically passed away from complications related to AIDS. Tyson also shared that his friend later died as well, leaving him grappling with a profound sense of loss.
“There’s no way I should be here talking to you right now. All my friends are dead,”
he said, in a voice that still rang with grief and the improbable fact of his survival.
Few moments like this have revealed the vulnerability of this man whose life has been a continuum of struggle. Tyson was born and grew up in the violent Brownsville section of Brooklyn, which was surrounded by danger and tragedy. The cards were stacked against him from the very start. Yet he survived miraculously through innumerable close calls with death.
Tyson referred to his survival as a paradox that he cannot understand.
“It’s like I’ve been blessed-or cursed-to still be here,”
he confided.
“But I’m not invincible. Far from it. I’ve just been lucky-or maybe it’s something more than luck.”
His life has come with a list of near-misses. As a young man, he narrowly escaped death in a serious car accident. The years of substance abuse endured, and health crises-overcoming a debilitating bout of sciatica that left him wheelchair-bound. Even in prison, with the possibility of one threat or another being a part of one’s daily reality, Tyson found a way to persevere.
Reflecting upon this turbulent life’s journey, Tyson said how easily his life might have taken a darker path. The loss of his mother when he was young and growing up in poverty meant that hardship was at least a constant companion. Yet, it was discipline and focus inculcated by his mentor, Cus D’Amato, and an entry into boxing that gave him an outlet—a lifeline out of chaos.
Now in his late 50s, Tyson speaks with the nuances of wisdom blended with vulnerability. He does not hide his flaws or his wild choices as a young man but views those traits as chapters in a story in survival that enable him to grow.
“My life could’ve ended so many times,”
he reflected. There were moments I didn’t think I’d see 20. But here I am, trying to work out what it all means.
As the interview neared its end, Tyson revealed one final, maddening thought that would linger long after.
“Why am I still here when they’re not?”
he said, his voice heavy with emotion. And while that might be a question that will never find an answer, Tyson doesn’t seem to take sides in his way. For a man who has lost so much, every new day is an opportunity to remember the ones he lost and to live with meaning.
