Forget former manager "Cuss" D'Amato's death, chewing Evander's ear and saying he wants to eat Lennox Lewis' children... or rape and prison, or Robin Givens, or divorcing Michael Steele's lil' sis' or Don King's machinations. The crux of Mike Tyson's odyssey squeaked from his own lips in James Toback's 2009 documentary 'Tyson': "Unless you have an addictive personality," he self-diagnosed, "you can't understand how someone can throw away three or four hundred million dollars. I must either exist at the top of the world, or at the bottom of the ocean."
Perhaps he's swimming out of the abyss, towards some equilibrium on the surface. Mike Tyson claims the mountaintop of insanity is in the past. I'd like to think he's now bobbing on the waves, off shore... indeed waving to us on the beach. And astonishingly, we're turning from our own kidney-punching and below-the-belt shots about politics, money and culture, to wave back.