Unlabeled but calling for me to look, once a year or so, in my old-technology box of audio and video cassettes, is the Douglas-Tyson fight of February 11th, 1990. It took place in Tokyo because that was the best place for Buster Douglas to get paid; he was supposed to go down in one or two rounds, and no one in America was very interested in that, while in Japan, at least, Tyson drew crowds as a novelty act, like a King-Kong-Mini with boxing gloves. We all have our moments in the sun. People knew that this was not going to be such a moment for Buster Douglas. What they did expect was for Tyson to punch his lights out. It was only a warm-up for the much bigger payday of Tyson-Holyfield in June. Buster was just grist for the Don King mill. This was, after all, the same Buster who had practically given up against Tony Tucker three years earlier. The Buster who didn't train hard enough, or care enough, or have enough heart. The underperformer. The mother of his son was into the hospita