A candid conversation with the angriest man in boxing about the violence and rage that have dogged his life and the demons that still haunt him.

When Mike Tyson enters the lobby of the Trump International Hotel in New York, he makes it clear he's none too happy. And when the meanest boxer who has ever lived is in a bad mood, it's a sight to behold. He is scheduled to finish the second lengthy session of the "Playboy Interview" in his hotel suite, but his mood, and the rules, have changed. He demands that this phase of the interview take place in Central Park, where the sun and humidity will cause his bodyguard to fetch a towel so Tyson can mop his sweat.

The weather isn't the only thing that's hot. Tyson's temper continues to boil as well. He flares at questions that he considers negative and slips into either brooding silence or manic free association. He is an athlete as famous for his troubled personal life as for his sports achievements, and on this sweltering New York afternoon, it's easy to see why. Of course, he has reason to be upset. In a few days, Tyson's lawyers will begin proceedings to help him regain his boxing license, first in New Jersey, then in Nevada. He lost his license -- in spectacular fashion -- in June 1997 in Las Vegas when, during his second bout with Evander Holyfield (Mike had lost the first), Tyson became so enraged that he bit off part of his opponent's ear. The Nevada State Athletic Commission hit him with a $3 million fine and revoked his license for a minimum of one year.

As he sits in the park, Tyson doesn't know if he'll be allowed to fight again. He feels that the sport needs him -- no boxer since Muhammad Ali has captured the public's imagination the way Tyson has, and no other fighter can command the multimillion- dollar deals that make everyone in boxing happy. At the same time, no other athlete has been demonized the way Tyson has, though he has brought on much of the flack himself. The 32-year-old has been in frequent trouble with the law, including a highly publicized rape conviction for which he served a three-year prison term. Even his suspension has been marred by controversy -- more problems with the police and a dramatic split from his promoter Don King, who Tyson claims has bilked him out of millions of dollars. No wonder he's angry. He's been angry his entire life.

Tyson was born on June 30, 1966 and grew up the youngest of three children in the Brownsville section of Brooklyn. He became a pickpocket on public buses, rolling drunks and relieving old ladies of their purses. By the time he was 13, he had been arrested 38 times and was eventually held in a "bad cottage" in the Tryon School for Boys detention facility in upstate New York.

It was there that Tyson learned to box. Bobby Stewart, one of the counselors and a former boxer himself, sensed Tyson's potential and took him under his wing. Stewart introduced the teenager to legendary trainer Cus D'Amato, a man considered odd even by boxing standards. D'Amato believed he had ESP and had a lecture for every human weakness. Over the years he had produced two champions -- Floyd Patterson and Jose Torres. D'Amato was a suspicious man, generally had no use for society and was a socialist. By the time he got Tyson, he was viewed as a cranky recluse who ran a gym in Catskill, New York.

Aging and desperate for another champion, D'Amato became obsessed with the young Tyson. He channeled Tyson's physical strength and rage, and set about chiseling his masterpiece, a kid who he predicted would be a champion by the age of 19.

Tyson's brief amateur career showed promise, but it wasn't until he turned pro in March 1985 that he began to fulfill that promise. By the end of that year, he had 15 victories, all by knockouts, and no defeats. "Sports Illustrated" called him "the most devastating puncher in boxing, a remorseless attacker." After 27 consecutive victories, he ought Trevor Berbick for the World Boxing Council heavyweight title in November 1986. The match took less than six minutes, and when it was over, Mike Tyson was the youngest heavyweight champ ever at the age of 20 -- missing D'Amato's prediction by only one year.

D'Amato didn't live to see his protégé get the belt -- he died of pneumonia in November 1985. That left Tyson's career in the hands of co-managers Jimmy Jacobs and Bill Cayton, who had worked with D'Amato. But when Jacobs died in 1988, Tyson felt he had lost his family. His career continued to thrive, however. He unified the heavyweight division, winning the title from all three boxing associations, and became the first undisputed heavyweight champ since Ali ten years earlier. Even more impressive were the purses: $20 million for fighting Michael Spinks in 1988; $30 million for a bout with Frank Bruno in 1996. The ill-fated incident with Holyfield broke records with 1.8 million viewers on pay-per-view, bringing in $90 million in revenues.

Tyson couldn't have done this alone. At his side (or inside his head, depending on whom you want to believe) was the colorful Don King, the most powerful promoter in boxing.

What drew Tyson to King was the fact that King too was an ex-con, and in Tyson's mind, he had the élan of a gangster. Tyson's view of King wavered between awe and disrespect. The latter surfaced whenever the press hinted that King was running him. Rumors circulated that Tyson had slapped King on several occasions and berated him at whim. Earlier this year Tyson fired King, though time remains on the promoter's contract. A long and bitter legal fight is under way.

This kind of fight will be nothing new to Tyson. He has spent more time in court than he has in the ring. In all, Tyson has fought fewer than 200 rounds during his professional career and has gone the full 12 rounds only three times -- giving him a 45-3 record, with 39 knockouts.

In 1988, he married actor Robin Givens -- a relationship that was marred by Givens' accusations (made during the couple's televised interview with Barbara Walters) that Tyson abused her. He had a couple of highly publicized car crashes (after running his Rolls-Royce into a parked car, Tyson told the cops to keep the $180,000 automobile, saying, "I've had nothing but bad luck with this car") and a few miscellaneous run-ins with police. He's been accused of assaulting various photographers and parking lot attendants, and has seen his share of brawling outside the ring.