Tyson Fury vs Otto Wallin: The ‘Gypsy King’ returns to Las Vegas’ golden minefield to walk in iconic footsteps
Take the glory, the money, the fame; leave the vanity of celebrity for all those others walking the acres of casino floors
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.Tyson Fury was 20 when he turned professional, 22 when he won the British title, 27 when he won the world title, nearly 29 stone when he lost his way and now, at 31, he is right in the middle of his true heavyweight years.
On the heavyweight road, he has moved through trainers, promoters, television companies and left leisure centres in Britain for the eternal, burning bright lights of Las Vegas. It is a city that knows a thing or two about genius, about charlatans and about boxing fairy tales. Fury is loved in this city of shifting loyalties.
On Saturday, he fights a Swedish heavyweight prospect called Otto Wallin in the T-Mobile Arena, his second outing here, and there is now a growing sense of a residency. In Las Vegas, the most transient of cities, a man can feel at home quickly after a big breakfast, a free coffee, a dollar-investment in a rolling fruit machine and Fury has embraced the place and sucked in that feeling. The reverse is true and a fighter can feel isolated, unwanted here in a second of precious Las Vegas time. The fights have to get harder after Wallin to keep the public coming.
In Las Vegas he has now met Mike Tyson, the man he was named after, and no doubt the pair swapped war stories from their days on boxing’s frontline of heartbreak and joy - there is nothing the first Tyson has not been through and his darkest depths of despair have been visited by the second Tyson. Their Las Vegas days will now belatedly unite the pair. “Cool guy,” they both offered after meeting.
It is a strange city of the docile and the fabulous, a perfect last resort for heavyweight boxers. It’s boxing’s ultimate melting pot of talent, failures and the men and women who arrive are on missions. The wannabe fighters, having moved from all over the world, queue outside Floyd Mayweather’s gym, hoping for an invite, dreaming of discovery, preening in expectation. It’s a horrible meat market to witness.
Sonny Liston, the baddest of heavyweight men, fought and won the first ever world heavyweight title fight to take place here in 1963. He needed just 130 seconds to ruin Floyd Patterson. Seven years later, Liston, by now a resident, was found dead in his apartment. It was heroin, the police said: “Bullshit,” shouted Liston’s loved ones. The death remains a Las Vegas heavyweight mystery. It’s not the only one, old champions die here all the time with or without ceremony.
The great Joe Louis was next to Ali at Liston’s funeral and Louis, for a time, was a “meeter and greeter” on the doors at Caesars Palace. Sadly, sweet Joe was heavily sedated most days and he was prone to landing perfect left hooks on the chins of eager tourists. Louis, like Liston, died in the city and there is a mystery attached there. Louis has a statue and Liston a simple sign at the burial ground where he faces eternity as the only adult in the children’s section. Liston’s last resting place is perhaps the perfect Las Vegas parable: The world’s most feared man buried with the innocent.
Muhammad Ali slipped in and out of Las Vegas in the Seventies, fought in the rings and kissed the diamond-studded tunics of Elvis Presley in hotel penthouses. However, it was a few years later that Tyson became the true Las Vegas heavyweight idol; it was his fighting playground, making millions, biting ears and buying tigers that defined his decade of wins and losses. Lennox Lewis tried it, Vitali Klitschko had a pit-stop and Evander Holyfield and Riddick Bowe shared over 30 unforgettable rounds. A Tyson fight week was a special type of crazy, especially at the end when his legal medication would have dropped a rhino.
And way below the popular memory line, heavyweight men like Candy Slim Merritt, the damaged Ike Ibeabuchi, former champion Michael Dokes and giant Cuban Jorge Luis Gonzalez begged and fought and died or vanished in this truly heartless city. They went down into the darkness with their bandaged hands extended, collecting a last dollar for a final fix, a bus fare or just an old-fashioned beer.
So, welcome back to Las Vegas Tyson Fury, and once again take from this place of trickery, demons and deceit, the finest bits. Take the glory, the money, the fame; leave the vanity of celebrity for all those others walking the acres of casino floors. Wallin is the perfect man for another, slightly more difficult fight in a city which has been searching for a new heavyweight hero now for over 25 years. Welcome back, big lad.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments