By Steve Weinstein
By Devon Maloney
By Tessa Stuart
By Alison Flowers
By Albert Samaha
By Jesse Jarnow
By Eric Tsetsi
By Raillan Brooks
Last month, a short time after 45-year-old Mitch "Blood" Green won a title belt from something called the World Boxing Syndicate for beating a palooka who had 92 prior defeats, he showed up at Madison Square Garden for the Golden Gloves finals and, of course, all hell broke loose.
During an intermission between fights, the Daily News' Bill Gallo stepped into the ring to call up champs and celebrities, including Zab Judah, Mark Breland, and Sugar Ray Robinson's son, Ray Jr. All Gallo had to do was announce, "Is there a Mitch Green in the room?" The 6-foot-5 Green bounded up the steps and into the ring, shadowboxing from ring post to ring post. The crowd of 5000 went nuts. "Mitch Green, as you all remember, fought Mike Tyson twice!" Gallo announced. "Once going the distance with him in the ring, the other time with him in the street!" Upon hearing Tyson's name, Green screamed at Gallo, who added with a smile, "Both times he lost!" Green started yelling into Gallo's microphone, "And new . . . and new . . . ," referring to his recently becoming a "world champion," but Gallo probably didn't know what Green was talking about and ignored him. Green eventually was dragged out of the ring and went back to his seat, where he happily spent the rest of the night signing autographs for a line of fans.
In 1986, Green, a four-time Golden Gloves champ and top-10 heavyweight contender, lost a 10-round decision to Tyson. He didn't really make his name until two years later, when Tyson KO'd him for free in front of a Harlem clothing store at 5 a.m. Green and his stitches made the covers of New York's tabloids, and for a while you couldn't read a Tyson story without bumping into Green's name. He called Tyson a "homo" every chance he got and turned out to be the perfect foil (and comic relief) for the Tyson soap opera.
As a boxer, Green was forgettable, but for the public, his personality was irresistible. The public personas of the Michael Jordans and Tiger Woodses have become so predictablethey're fearful of missteps that might cost them product endorsements. Green was, and still is, the antithesis of today's image-conscious athlete.
He still has a gift for attracting attention. Maybe that's why, at his advanced age, he's been given another chance to make something of himself. It also explains why those involved in resurrecting his career today make sure a car service picks him up every day and delivers him safely to Gleason's Gym when he's in training. His driver's license was suspended 54 times, so he can't drive to work, and forget about the subways. "Someone on the train," said Ed Post, his trainer and advisor, "will say, 'Hey, Tyson's on top, where are you?' and he gets furious."
It's a valid question. Today Green lives in a house in Queens by himself and is barely in boxing. Promoters stopped using him because when he wasn't in jail, he was pulling out of fights. That's what happens when you stick up gas stations and then fill up other people's tanks with gas for an hour, or when you bust up a department store office only days before you're supposed to fight Shannon Briggs at the Garden. Ed Post said Green has survived over the years selling autographs and on money generated by his Web site, but others help. Ex-fighter Gerry Cooney (who runs F.I.S.T., which helps retired fighters find work) pays Green's phone bills, and Bruce Silverglade, the owner of Gleason's Gym, also lends a hand.
Green himself won't talk about the details. "I can deal with the struggling," he told the Voice in a ramble-on interview. "You want to talk about it, but I don't. That's not what I want people to know. I don't want people to know about my struggles. People want to hear controversy. Lennox Lewis got a boyfriend. He got knocked out two times. The man's been knocked out two times! He doesn't care. Knock me out. I don't care. I just want the money."
Earlier this year, he was offered a March 9 fight for the World Boxing Syndicate's super heavyweight title at the Annandale Sports Center in Springfield, Virginia. The WBS was created last summer by a group of investors who wanted to see their local fighters get some big fights. Mark Chang, the ratings chairman for the group, needed a fighter with name recognition, and Green (18-6-1, 11 KO's) fit the bill. The fight was for chump change. Green's opponent, the aptly nicknamed "Experienced" Danny Wofford (what else do you call a guy with a 17-92 record?), made $2000. Green's people handled his end. "He was just interested in the title," Chang told the Voice.
Green hadn't trained for a fight in four years, but Ed Post, a glass-half-full kind of guy, said the transformation was easy. "The excitement of the phone call of getting the fight excited Mitch," Post said. "So I said, 'Let's go to the gym,' and he said, 'All right!' The trick was getting him there that first day."