BOXING:Evander Holyfield, who publishes his biography next week, talks about his trials and triumphs

Evander Holyfield may be a little more blurred around the edges, and a touch battered by all the fights and the passing years, but he remains resolute and defiant. At home in Georgia, the 45-year-old fighter still sounds like some hushed and cracked preacher of the south as he drawls: "The word of God steadies me. He says your trials and tribulations make you who you are. So you can see my whole story in the way I endured and overcame some testing experiences."

Holyfield, who won the world heavyweight championship a record four times and grimly pursues the impossible dream of a fifth title, has lived a life unlike any other. "I think that's real true," he laughs softly. "This has been my life, man, and it ain't over. But it's good to step back, draw breath and look at the path you took to reach this point."

His rollicking journey from surviving destitution and racism in the Deep South to amassing outrageous wealth through boxing saw him move from his first job as a 17-year-old with Epps Aviation in Atlanta, where he earned $2.65 an hour while being continually abused by his boss, to his second fight against Mike Tyson in Las Vegas in 1997 when he was paid $34 million which, Holyfield confirms, was "the largest amount ever paid for a single performance in any field".

Holyfield had knocked out Tyson in their first fight and seemed on course to administer the same punishment in their rematch when "Mad Mike" tore off and spat out a chunk of his ear. It was found on the bloodied canvas and given back to the champion in an iced plastic bag as he was rushed to hospital - after he had won the fight against his raging and disqualified opponent. Tyson feasted on him so ferociously the stunned referee that night, Mills Lane, told Holyfield he should change his nickname from The Real Deal to The Real Meal.

That incident was merely the most infamous in a bizarre catalogue. In November 1993 Holyfield's unforgettable second fight against Riddick Bowe was interrupted by a fan parachuting into the ring and, five months later, the doctor examining him suggested he had suffered a heart attack during his subsequent world-title defence against Michael Moorer. That diagnosis proved incorrect, although Holyfield claimed his cardiac defect had been cured by an evangelical preacher. His private life has been almost as colourful. Holyfield, the youngest of nine, has been married three times and fathered 11 children himself.

"I'm just one woman away, my mother, from being the same as Mike Tyson," he suggests in one of his touchingly profound moments. "I would've ended up like him if my mama had not been so tough and strong. A lot of people, including Mike, don't know I came from the ghetto. They think I'm too nice and proper. But that's the way my mama raised me - to look people in the eye and respect them. I still think it must've been God's will that she was struck down by a heart attack when I was six. It stopped her working from 10 to 10 every day and she had to stay at home from then on. We were even poorer but she lavished attention on me - and that gave me the security Mike never had.

"I got three whippings a day from my mama. That made me think she was mean but now, as an adult, I see if it hadn't been for her I would've wound up in jail, like Tyson, or dead. We lived in a real rough place but my mother kept me straight. Mike never had that - so I feel compassion for him. He's only partially out of boxing because he don't know how to move ahead. Mike wants to be accepted as a normal person but he's done things people ain't gonna forget. He made things even worse by tattooing his face in a state of high emotion. By the time he's 50 Tyson might be a decent guy but, right now, he still unsettles people."

Tyson's facial tattoo was inspired by Maori warriors, a fact which makes Holyfield reflect still further on his old adversary. "Mike reads a lot and that tells you he's not an ignorant person. I bet if you asked him about this tattoo he'd tell you all about its original significance. He's a deep thinker - but he's also very impulsive. And that tarnishes his intelligence. A person who goes from one extreme to the other ends up looking a fool."

Holyfield and Tyson's lives have been tangled together for 24 years - stretching back to 1984 when they both struggled to make the US Olympic team. "People don't know this but I really admired Mike. I always prided myself on working harder than anybody but Mike outworked me then. But I never feared him. He was knocking all these guys out in training, but they were paralysed by fear. That's what fear does - it works as a tranquilliser. So when it was time for us to spar people said, 'Oh man, he's gonna kill ya!' But I knew I could stand up to him."

His belief was vindicated in the professional ring where he twice exposed Tyson. If their first bout was a glorious triumph, and the second the most notorious in boxing history, Holyfield's revelation that they might meet again is simply desolate. It would be less a fight than a pitiful freak show.

"There has been some talk between us. Mike had Jeff Fenech, who's been training him, call me a few months ago. Jeff says Mike wants to fight me again - but he needs to know if I would agree to it. I said, 'It all depends on what they gonna give us - because I'm gonna catch a lot of flak if I say I'm fighting Mike Tyson again. I've already said I don't want to fight Mike no more'. Jeff says, 'What if Mike gets in proper shape?' I told him that's okay but I can't be part of it if Mike's going to pull out - like he's done before. So Jeff said, 'The main thing Mike wants to know right now is if you would be willing to fight him again?' And I said, 'Yeah, if the price is right, I probably would'."

That admission from Holyfield, who has managed to hold on to his wealth, is as dispiriting as it is startling. Yet it is hard to believe Tyson could summon the necessary discipline to fight again in an authentic contest. "I think he could," Holyfield murmurs, "if he wanted to. I don't ever underestimate no man. But I can't speak for Mike because I don't know how well he's taken care of his body. He's 41 now. I'm four years older but the big difference is I've always kept in shape. Who knows with Mike? Soon after Jeff called, Mike went to South Africa and it's gone quiet since then."

Tyson is not the only doomed former world champion to have phoned Holyfield. Bowe, who shared an epic trilogy of fights with him in the 1990s, winning twice, is now a shambling wreck. "Riddick ain't doing too good. He also called a while ago and said he wanted to fight me. I said, 'C'mon, we're friends'. He kept saying, 'Listen, I'm one up on ya'. I handled it this way: I said, 'Riddick, if you get back your licence to box then I'll fight you'. But I know he ain't ever gonna pass that test."

Holyfield, of course, is not immune to his own damaging delusions. "I keep fighting because my time is coming," he insists when trying to defend his refusal to retire despite winning only six of his 14 bouts since 1999. In the intervening years he has become an increasingly sad figure in the ring, clinging to a forlorn hope he might win another title. His most recent bout was in Moscow last October when he lost a unanimous decision to Sultan Ibragimov, the uninspiring Russian who was then the WBO champion.

"He kept moving away from me," Holyfield protests. "His trainer told him to avoid a battle with me and so he ran all night. I couldn't catch him."

Holyfield sounds briefly confused as he repeats himself. "I couldn't catch him. He's just lost his title [ last Saturday night in New York] in an even more boring fight against [ Wladimir] Klitschko. It wasn't good because nobody wants to see a huge guy like Klitschko playing it safe rather than trying for the knock-out. But Klitschko is the best out there and he's now got the IBF and WBO belts. I reckon there's a chance, after a couple of decent fights, I'll get a crack at him. I know how boxing works. Realistically there ain't no reason for him to fight me - besides the money. Look at me and George Foreman. I didn't want to fight him [ in 1991] because he was the same age I am now. I wanted to fight Tyson but my manager pointed out I'd get $22 million to beat George first. I saw the sense in that."

There is no sense, however, in Holyfield's determination to keep fighting. Yet he does not bristle when hearing that Bernard Hopkins, a 43-year-old champion, told me Holyfield was "disrespecting himself". "You gotta remember that Hopkins wanted to fight me. I said no because I know I'm the bigger and stronger guy. Besides, my dream is to unify the heavyweight division. Once I've done that it'll be time to go."

Holyfield's reputation matters far less than the considerable risk to his health. And, as his gripping life story confirms, he has already done more than enough to step aside and look back with pride at all he has achieved.

"I sometimes have that thought. And I also get my doubts. I've said, plenty of times, 'Lord, it feels like I'm fighting myself', and then I remember it's always been this way. The trials and tribulations make me who I am. So I've given up complaining and I'm fighting again in July. It's not easy - but, just like life, it ain't ever been easy."

Becoming Holyfield: A Fighter's Journey by Evander Holyfield is published by Simon & Schuster on Monday