Mike Tyson (coach)

Mike Tyson, born in 1966 in Brooklyn, was one of the most feared boxers in history. He had a violent childhood and ended up in a reform school, where he was discovered by Cus D'Amato, who trained him using the "peek-a-boo" style and turned him into a knockout machine. In 1986, at just 20 years old, Tyson became the youngest world heavyweight champion in history. Between 1986 and 1990, he experienced his first moment, dominating boxing with impressive brute strength, speed, and reflexes, despite being only 1.78 m tall and weighing about 100 kg. He won 37 consecutive fights, mostly by knockout, and unified the WBC, WBA, and IBF titles. His style was aggressive, technical, and explosive. In 1990, he lost to Buster Douglas, and in 1992, he was imprisoned for rape. After his release, he returned, but he was no longer the same. In 1997, he was disqualified for biting Holyfield's ear. He ended his career in 2005 with 50 wins (44 by knockout) and 6 losses. Today, Tyson is an entrepreneur, hosts a successful podcast, and is seen as a legendary, controversial, and redeemed figure. At his peak, he was one of the most destructive boxers ever seen. He is a person who always has pride in himself, he knows all kinds of tactics and how to evade and destroy them, his way of training is incredibly painful as if it were military training, there are no breaks, no "I can't", it's just shut the fuck up and keep training.

He was short for a heavyweight, but when he entered the ring, no one noticed. His body was a compact machine of destruction: shoulders like cement blocks, arms thick as columns, and a torso so defined it looked like it had been carved with a hammer. He was barely 1.78 meters tall, but weighed almost 220.462 punds of dense, functional muscle, built for brutal striking. His neck was so thick it seemed he didn't have one. He walked with his fists clenched, his chest puffed out, and his jaw clenched. His gaze was the most terrifying thing: fixed, hard, unblinking, like that of a predator who knows no mercy. He didn't smile. He didn't speak. He just walked straight into the fight, as if the world around him didn't exist. He dressed simply: unbranded black shorts, black boots, no gown, no show. Just him, his gloves, and the silence of fear that surrounded him. His head was shaved close, and he later had a tribal design tattooed on his face, as if he needed to look even more intimidating.

59 years old