Pat Putnam in New York on the reformed convert to Islam who is released from prison today

In this holy season it is reassuring to note that Mike Tyson, who once said his purpose in life was to drive nose cartilage deep into an opponent’s brain, has decided that his first stop after leaving the Indiana slammer this morning will be at a local neighbourhood mosque.



While boxing continues on hold, as it has for the past three years, and while Don King fumes, Tyson, a recent Muslim convert, will pray. Only after the former heavyweight champion rises from his knees will the madness begin.



“I tried to tell him what is waiting for him out there,” says the promoter Butch Lewis, a constant Tyson visitor the past three years at the Indiana Youth Centre.



“I told him, ‘You have to get your footing. You’re just not ready.’ He’s got to re-enter the world before he jumps back into things out there.



“They are going to be crawling all over him. Hopefully he can handle it but he’s not going to be ready for all they are going to throw at him. But who would be?”



Already they are talking about $100 and $200 million purses and $600 million TV contracts - and nobody even knows if the 28-year-old man-child can still fight. “It doesn’t matter,” says Seth Abraham, the president of Time Warner (HBO) sports.



On March 26 1992, the day Tyson began serving time after a rape conviction, boxing went into its own version of solitary confinement. Heavyweight champions came and went, none of outstanding personality or talent.



“Watching the heavyweight division the last three years has been like watching people getting haircuts,” says Bert Sugar, publisher of Ring Illustrated. “Boring, boring, boring. And as the heavyweight division goes, so goes the rest of the sport. We could have a dozen Roy Joneses and 12 Pernell Whitakers and we’d still be waiting for Tyson to come back.”



An astute boxing historian, Tyson knows he is one of the rarest of the rare, a heavyweight with the punch and popularity of John L Sullivan, Jack Dempsey, Joe Louis and Muhammad Ali.



They were few but, while they reigned, the world waited anxiously to thrill at their every move, inside or outside the ring, and boxing flowed at high-water levels.



“It’s this idea of Superman, a fictional character,” says Abraham. “There’s a bit of fantasy to this type of heavyweight, the one able to reverse ill-fortune with a single blow. And when they are around, ratings go up even with the little fighters. There is just more interest.”



Four weeks ago Tyson telephoned Johnny Tocco at his Las Vegas gym and told him that he’d be there soon.



“He sounded bitter,” says Tocco. “He said he might even put a cot in the back of the gym and sleep here.”



Tyson purchased a home in one of the wealthier sections of Las Vegas but has since learned that the owner is listed as Don King Productions.



“He doesn’t know who is living in it or what, and he’s not happy about that,” said Tocco. “He said to me: ‘Where are all those guys I gave Rolex watches and gold bracelets? Where are these people?’ He learned a lot while he was inside. He’s pissed off at a lot of people. When they turn those lights out at night, it gives a guy a lot of time to think.”



Another constant Tyson visitor the past 18 months has been Eddie Mustafa Muhammad, a trainer who as Eddie Gregory won the light-heavyweight championship in 1980. He detects a more humble Tyson, one at peace with himself.



“Islam has given him a purpose and a direction,” says Muhammad. “I am going to meet him Saturday morning to pray. Then he will go his way and I will go mine. I didn’t go to him for a job; I went as a brother.”



Told that King had objected to Tyson’s plan to stop at the mosque near the prison, Muhammad laughed. He and Tyson’s promoter are old foes.

King wanted Tyson to be whisked straight to the airport for a private flight to Cleveland. “So what else is new?” said Lewis.



“King is back trying to control his life. But Mike will stand up to him. If Allah wants Mike to pray at the mosque, then he will pray. Allah has many names, but one of them is not Don King.”



Tyson has told Lewis that he is anxious to return to the ring.



“Physically, he looks great,” said Lewis. “He looks like he did when he was 20 or 21. He ran and exercised and weighs about 214 pounds. He couldn’t train, of course, just shadow-boxed. He just wants to go and do what he does best. It’s a competitive thing.”



“Man, I don’t believe all this talk about crazy money,” Tyson told Lewis. “I don’t care about that. I just want to fight.”

Lewis did not find Tyson bitter. He told him: “Mike, sometimes God has to get your attention. Like He says, ‘I blessed you with all that talent and you went a little off track, so let Me get your attention. Take a three-year break.’”



Tyson told Lewis he had considered that.



“I swear on everything that I did not do what they said I did. But maybe some of the other things I did, things I did not get punished for, so maybe this is all pay-back. All the things going back into my early years. I guess I can’t get mad about the way things turned out.”



So now we have a kinder, a more gentle, a humbler Mike Tyson, one who finds solace in prayer five times a day. The question is: how long will the beatitude last after Don King tells him how much money he has left?