Mark Kriegel's new book, "Baddest Man: The Making of Mike Tyson," hits shelves today, and while it packs all the expected jabs about Iron Mike's rise, rage, and reinvention, one of the most powerful punches comes from an unexpected corner — Rosie Perez.
The fast-talking, fire-hearted Brooklyn native from "Do the Right Thing" who could out-dance, out-wit, and apparently out-tough the baddest man on the planet.
At the height of Tyson's fame, he tried a line on Perez that might need a parental control advisory. "Damn, Wosie. You got a biscuit booty. Love to pour gravy all over that," he reportedly said.
Rosie didn't even blink. "Mike shut up," she shot back.
According to Kriegel's book, Tyson slumped like a scolded schoolboy and apologized. It's just a meek "sorry" from the world heavyweight champion.
That's when Perez saw something more profound in the man behind the myth.
"I saw the abused kid… the dented can," she says. "Damage recognizes damage."
From Pickup Line to Powerful Bond
That moment of vulnerability kicked off an unexpected and enduring friendship. Tyson never hit on her again. Instead, they found common ground not in glitz or glory but in the grit of survival. Perez, whose childhood in Brooklyn was filled with trauma and instability, recognized something all too familiar in Tyson's haunted eyes.
"When you grow up with childhood trauma, you don't get to be a child," she tells Kriegel. "I saw that in Mike." And it wasn't just recognition. It was compassion. After brushing off his come-on, Perez remembers glancing at Tyson and softening. "My heart just cracked," she recalls. "I was like, 'Oh, honey.'"
It's the kind of mushy moment you don't usually expect from a former undisputed heavyweight champ and a '90s film icon. "I just kind of mushed him," Perez says. "And he mushed me back. But I almost fell 'cause he's so damn strong."
That gentle, goofy exchange turned the start of a foul pickup line into the foundation of a lifelong bond.
For all his fury, Tyson often struggled with emotional intelligence, a byproduct of pain, abuse, and survival. But Rosie met pain with perspective and trauma with tenderness. And when Tyson, used to being feared or fawned over, came face-to-face with someone who could call his bluff and still care for the person underneath, it clearly shook something loose. "That's when I fell in love with him," Perez admits. Not romantically. Spiritually. As in, this guy needs a friend and I'm it.
Kriegel's "Baddest Man" is full of hard truths and harder edges. But this chapter with Perez offers a rare glimpse into Tyson's humanity, a surprising, tender reprieve in a story often defined by violence and chaos.
And if you want to see this dynamic duo in action, Rosie Perez and Mark Kriegel will appear together at St. Joseph's in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn, on June 4 at 7:30 p.m. Expect tough love, real talk, and maybe even a mush or two.