Extra Point

By Mike Fitzgerald

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His face was frozen with fear, despite a few thousand of his English countrymen chanting his name for encouragement.

Bruno had every reason to be scared silly, though. One look at Mike Tyson's face of fire told him that the meaningless pre-fight war of words was over.

It was on to the gallows for Bruno, who probably wished that he could have lobbed his WBC championship belt into the ring and run to hide behind the nearest slot machine.

Bruno literally held onto Tyson for dear life in the first two rounds, knowing that he would be immediately horizontal if he tried to slug it out with Tyson.

But the best referee in the sleazy business, Mills Lane, wasn't going to take part in a dance recital.

Lane deducted a point from Bruno and warned of disqualification as he continually pried the two apart.

Tyson, meanwhile, showed he was back in top form, nearly one year after being released from prison. His hand speed and power were there, along with his head movement and timing.

More important, the killer instinct that made him the youngest heavyweight champion in boxing history was evident even before the opening bell.

One final - and familiar - uppercut in the third round ended it for Bruno, who actually was lucky that he didn't get hurt worse than he did.

Tyson has had a pretty good year for himself. Not too many ex-cons make $65 million or so for about 17 minutes of work - which is how long he has spent in the ring against Peter McNeeley, Buster Mathis Jr. and Bruno.

Let's do a little ciphering. That comes out to $3.8 million per minute - or $229 million an hour - for Tyson. Hardly the minimum wage. Heck, they only give most brutes getting out of the hoosegow a fresh suit and a little meal money.

AND that hedge-topped happy face you might have noticed in the background is making even more dough out of it. Yes, Don King - who is still dodging a suite with iron bars himself - is guffawing all the way to the bank, having sold this fight as, believe it or not, a fight.

Now King will have to pull out his extra-special bag of tricks. Most of the pay-per-fools aren't going to be as anxious to ante up for the next joke of a champion, Bruce Seldon, whom Tyson is scheduled to implode in July.

Seldon, whose jaw is also stamped fragile, holds the WBA belt and just happens to be another King-promoted fighter.

Then it's on to a creature named Frans Botha, the IBF champ and yet another one of King's mules.

Botha, who has the hand and foot speed of McNeeley, will also go down in a heap long before your first beer is empty.

After Tyson finishes rolling all three of the stooges, he will have unified the heavyweight titles, at least on political paper.

But he won't be the real champion until he takes on the only fighter who has a solid chance of beating him, Riddick Bowe. And Lennox Lewis might have a long, long shot at it.

George Foreman or Evander Holyfield - if they were foolish and greedy enough - would at least make good theater before ending up on the canvas.

But King doesn't control any of these four guys, so all that the fans can do is sit back and watch Tyson flatten Seldon and Botha before getting serious.

The extended warm-up will likely eliminate Foreman and Holyfield as opponents, which is good news for their life insurance carriers.

That would leave Lewis and Bowe, probably in that order, in the spring and summer of 1997, assuming Tyson stays clear of all beauty pageants between now and then.

Tyson and King are in no hurry, though. Millions of dollars - and just as many suckers - will do wonders for a man's patience.