DATE: Wednesday, July 2, 1997               TAG: 9707020737

SECTION: SPORTS                  PAGE: C1   EDITION: FINAL 

TYPE: Column 

SOURCE: Bob Molinaro 

                                            LENGTH:   62 lines

FREAK SHOW: HOW CAN SOMEBODY SNAP TWICE?

You know what's really scary about this Mike Tyson debacle? Even scarier than Tyson's two-bit treatment of Evander Holyfield?

Even more disturbing than Tyson's transparently manipulative apology in which he asked forgiveness from ``the world,'' ``the Commission,'' ``Judge Patricia Gifford,'' ``Don King,'' ``my team,'' even, if you can believe it, ``Showtime,'' before thinking to apologize to Holyfield, the true victim in all this?

What's scarier than anything that's emerged so far from the sound and the fury of boxing's latest, greatest fiasco is something Tyson said after Saturday's fight:

Tyson was attempting to justify his carnivorous gnawing of Holyfield's ears when he said, ``I got children to raise.''

It's true. And it's frightening.

Most people feel that Tyson should not be let back into the ring. But as an aside, isn't it worth wondering about his fitness as a father? God save the children.

Tyson says he ``just snapped,'' against Holyfield. That's Tyson's story (or is it Don King's?) and he's sticking to it.

Only one problem: Can somebody snap twice? In the same round? As referee Mills Lane said, ``One bite is enough. Two bites is dessert.''

Lane and Holyfield are the heroes of this travesty, which is said to have left boxing with another black eye.

But it hasn't. The conventional wisdom just doesn't hold up. If anything, Tyson's beastliness only serves to illuminate Holyfield's character.

The heavyweight champion emerges even greater than before, as a man blessed with uncommon dignity and soulful self-confidence.

As for Lane, he dealt efficiently and honestly with unprecedented acts of ring thuggery.

Nothing about Holyfield and Lane disgraces boxing.

It's true, millions of fans feel they've been cheated. It's hard to know if national outrage over the fight is fueled by moral indignation or anger over the losses incurred by the $49.95 pay-per-view fee. Probably a little of both.

But while America is quick to express outrage, experience tells us it is not nearly as willing to make the indignation stick. We are pushovers for the lame apology, which is what Tyson's handlers were counting on when they shoved him out in front of the media Monday to read somebody else's words.

In the last few years, our society has been told that one of the worst things we can be is judgmental. Maybe as a result, Americans are almost incapable of sustaining resentment against proven creeps and criminals.

We all know how this con game works. The perpetrator becomes the victim. Next stop, Oprah Winfrey, or some other freak show. Isn't this the path traveled so successfully by Dennis Rodman?

The Tyson who now says he will seek help once announced that he had found happiness with Robin Givens. When Givens wouldn't sit still for his physical abuse, Tyson moved on to something else.

First, it was Maoism. When he tired of that, he tried Islam. Today, the thug who says he wants to turn around his life surrounds himself with ex-cons.

If handled adroitly, victimhood can be a religion, too.

But what else is so scary about the Tyson debacle has to do with us, the alleged outraged masses. Too many of us can't resist watching, no matter how grotesque things become. Too many people demand a ringside seat at the freak show.

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