Why Mike Tyson's Punch-Out wasn't the game to defeat racism
Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!! (1987)
Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!! (1987)
They say sport is the great equaliser, and when it’s as accessible and universal as football – EuroFootball, I mean - then I have to agree. And let’s give sport its dues, it has helped break down a lot of race barriers throughout history.
Of course you’ll still get instances of bananas being thrown onto football pitches by knuckle-dragger fans, and racist chanting or brainless comments online. But as moronic as all that behaviour is, why even give them a moment’s consideration?
After all, how does any of that stupid racism stack up against Muhammad Ali’s fight the other way, when he stood up to the white-as-all-hell United States government and told them he had no quarrel with them Viet Cong? They took his boxing titles, threatened him with jail - and it never made him back down.
Handsome, outspoken, tall and dangerous, Muhammad Ali AKA Cassius Clay AKA The Louisville Lip AKA The Greatest of All Time is a monumental figure in sporting history. There comes a time in everyone’s life when they learn about Ali for the first time, and become inspired by him.
He is iconic, titanic, greater in stature than his 6 foot and 3 inches belied. He is, in that sense, quite a contrast to your playable character in Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out!! for NES. Unfortunately, you ain’t Ali in this, and you ain’t Tyson neither for that matter, although these would have been brilliant fun if you could unlock them.
No, today you are Little Mac, and that’s not just a clever nickname – the poor guy stands about 3-foot tall in that boxing ring. Or maybe all of the opposition boxers are 10-foot tall by 4-foot wide, the game’s graphical perspective makes it difficult to tell. Still, at least Mac’s got a surprising chunk of power in his left and right jabs, more than you might think from a boy his size. He must drink all his milk, see.
He doesn’t just have lefts and rights up his sleeves, though. If you’re willing to take a wee risk, you can counter the opponent’s incoming punches with a punch of your own. This will let you earn a Star which gives you a mighty uppercut, useful when your opponents quite literally tower over you. You’ll never get tired of seeing Mac jump right up into the air to smash opposing fighters on the chin. I never saw Ali having to jump to hit his foes, did you?
They could have done with The Greatest in this game – a more racist lineup of pugilists you will not see. It starts off with the Frenchman who cannot wait to throw up the white flag, the glass-jawed Glass Joe. Yes, I should also mention that the majority of the opponents’ names are puns, in addition to being highly bigoted, so in that respect their names are double jobbing. That’s the sign of an efficient pun, didn’t you know?
You quickly move on to Von Kaiser, with a moustache even thicker than his biceps. I have to admit, given that they decided to parody a warfaring, moustachioed German, I’m just awful glad they didn’t plump for a send-up of Adolf here.
The champion of the Minor Circuit of the World Racist Boxing Association is Piston Honda, presumably fresh from the ultra-modern Japanese production line, and with a pair of caterpillar eyebrows that dance the flamenco.
And speaking of flamencos you’ve got the man himself, Don Flamenco from Madrid, who dances about the ring with a rose in his mouth and a toupee on his head. Is there some sort of national stereotype that the Spaniards are a bit follically challenged? See, I’ve always said that video games are educational. These are the kind of things I’d have never known about.
Anyway, it’s around about this time you begin to figure out that jabbing blindly isn’t the way to get through this game. Probably less than a dozen NES games have anything resembling a ‘learning curve’ built in, really. It’s usually sink or swim, and that swim is often in a pool of hydrochloric acid, as in “we’re gonna kick your ass and tell you to like it.”
But Punch-Out properly eases you in, and while you better believe it gets incredibly tough by the end, at least you can get past the first ten minutes and have some modicum of fun. That’s more than can be said for a lot of NES games. Also, even if you do get knocked the hell out into the mire of brain damage and early retirement, you’ll usually find that the next time you play, you’ll be much better equipped and able to progress farther.
But God, you really do feel every little inch of your four-foot-nothing height in there, as big fat King Hippo bears down upon you like a guffawing Hindenburg in florescent red shorts. You’ll need to bob, weave, duck and dodge, though you might end up forgetting to do some of those, especially ducking. As well as all that, if you keep hitting the opponent’s gloves or let yourself get slapped around a bit, you’ll lose stamina and temporarily tire out.
There are almost rules, though. There’s three rounds of 3 minutes, although they’re not three real minutes, if that makes sense. Yeah, the timer speeds up or slows down depending on how hard you’re currently hammering the opponent, which can work in your favour.
You usually have to knock the opponent out, though – although it’s possible to win by decision, you’ll need a helluva lot of points to get the win. That holds true even if you knocked Mr. Sandman down six times after he hardly laid a glove on you. Corrupt or what?
Later in the game there’s a spate of rematches with boxers you’ve already beaten, now new and improved, and a hell of a lot harder. That’s all before the racial stereotypes culminate with the USSR man Soda Popinski, previously known as – and I’m not joking you here – Vodka Drunkenski.
Wow. I know the whole order of the day for Punch-Out was to send up as many nationalities as possible. That was the joke of the time. And I know this was in the last days of the Cold War. But, did they really have to?!
And I have to love the idea that Nintendo toned down Soda Popinski’s name, but retained all of his dialogue that obviously refers to alcohol. I recognise the signs, you know, having consumed alcohol more than once in my time.
I’m just surprised he didn’t tell everyone that he can’t drive a car because he loves “grape juice”, and that he’s not gonna kill you in the ring, Ivan Drago style, but that he’s going to “defeat” you instead.
And gosh, I haven’t even got to Tyson yet. I could not imagine a scarier end-boss to any game than Mike Tyson. I’m being serious – Giygas is absolutely nowhere compared to Kid Dynamite.
I ought to add that Tyson’s presence in this game preceded his conviction for rape, although it wasn’t that conviction which led to him being removed from the game and replaced in later prints of this game by the no-personality pilchard called Mr. Dream.
No, it was probably Tyson’s surprise loss to James “Buster” Douglas, coupled with the fact that Tyson probably still commanded a massive fee at the time (before his several bankruptcies) that led to his eventual removal. To my eternal shame, I only possess the non-Tyson version of the game. It wouldn’t matter anyway, because I’ve never beaten him, or Mr. Dream.
Actually, if we’re being double honest, I can’t seem to get past California’s Super Macho Man either. I can breeze through the rest of the game, even Bald Bull and Mr. Sandman get nowhere near me. But then Macho Man, his grey hair, his spin punches and his bouncing manboobs all conspire to send me to the canvas.
When that happens – and I love this – Super Mario comes in, having decided to take up a part-time job as a boxing ref for whatever reason, and gives me a short count to 10 before I’m declared KO’ed. If you think the friendly and affable Mario may be on your side for Punch-Out, forget it: he’ll give long count after long count to the opponent, and he always looks delighted when he takes the win away from you.
Tyson knew all about long counts against Buster Douglas – mind you, he knew a thing or two about earth-shattering uppercuts as well. If you should somehow manage to make it to Iron Mike, or more accurately if you search out the passcode that brings you to him immediately, then he’ll probably put you on your backside in seconds.
That’s because, for the first 90 seconds of the fight, you have to be perfect with your dodging – each and every punch he throws is an instant knockdown, as it probably would be for anyone in real life. I did tell you that Little Mac is about 40 centimetres tall. So it makes sense: if you threw your little nephew a haymaker uppercut designed to fell Goliath, then he’s not exactly going to stay on his feet, is he?
It’s alright though, because you’ve got Apollo Creed in your corner. No, sorry, that’s Doc Louis. A former heavyweight champ, it seems poor old Doc took a few too many blows to the head himself during the course of his mysterious career; when Mac is under the cosh and getting the larrups from Bald Bull, Doc patting you on the shoulder and telling you to join the Nintendo Fun Club isn’t exactly what you need to hear.
Still, stick with Doc and you’ll eventually triumph over the best fighters in the world. You made it kid, there’s you standing on top of the World Video Boxing Association, wearing all three belts, rival fighters and racist caricatures all dead at your feet, and even Mike Tyson paying you compliments.
One of the best games on the NES ends there, with no credits screen and certainly no apologies for the shocking racism and xenophobia that you’ve just witnessed. That’s the murky, seedy underbelly of professional sport for you - poor Ali, God rest him, must be doing the rope-a-dope in his grave.
22 May 2026