I have been thinking about Herbert Morrison lately.

You may not know who Morrison was, but there’s a pretty good chance you know his work – or at least, one example of it. Morrison was a radio journalist in the first half of the 20th century, when radio, still a novelty, was the only mass medium that people consumed at home. And on May 6, 1937, he and engineer Charlie Nehlsen were dispatched by station WLS in Chicago to cover the arrival of the airship Hindenburg in Manchester Township, New Jersey.

These were strange times. Fascism was in the air and war was around the corner, and yet most folks in the United States carried on as normal, focused on everyday matters like making the rent and wondering who would win that year’s World Series. (Spoiler alert: it would be the New York Yankees.)

There was perhaps no greater sign of the incongruity of the times than the Nazi swastika that was proudly emblazoned on the tail fins of the zeppelin as it made its final approach at Lakehurst Naval Air Station.

At first, it all seemed unremarkable. Morrison’s audio records his narration of the airship dropping its ropes as it prepared to tie off on the landing mast. And then: disaster.

“It's burst into flames!” Morrison exclaimed. “It burst into flames and it’s falling, it’s crashing! … This is terrible; this is one of the worst catastrophes in the world … Oh, the humanity.”

I bring all this up as an overwrought explanation of why, this week, I’m heading to Texas to watch a 27-year-old punch a 58-year-old in the face while tens of thousands of people cheer.

Of course, the 58-year-old is probably the most famous boxer alive today, celebrated in his pomp for the cartoon-like ferocity with which he dispatched his foes, while the 27-year-old, it is safe to say, has not earned the same reputation inside the ropes.

But, writing as a 56-year-old – admittedly a 56-year-old who has never been remotely as fit and athletic as even this version of Mike Tyson appears to be – I can vouch for the impact of Father Time and the exponential increase in that impact, year-on-year, once one has hit their fifties. And while Jake Paul, his 27-year-old opponent, will never match the in-ring success or notoriety that Tyson had already achieved and blown up by the time he was Paul’s age, he is a significantly better boxer than he is sometimes given credit for.

He isn’t a good boxer, necessarily, although that depends on where one draws the line between good and less good. Were he a conventional boxer following a conventional career path, he might rank as a ShoBox-level guy, good enough to beat up plenty of opponents and dangerous enough to at least pose a threat to more accomplished foes while being unlikely ever to threaten the ranks of world champions.

But of course, there is nothing conventional about Paul. And instead of following a normal pugilistic career path, he has staged a series of events with him at the center, each with juuuust enough intrigue to encourage people to tune in. 

And that’s what his dalliance with Tyson at AT&T Stadium on Friday night will be: an event. Leaving Paul-Tyson aside, it’s a genuinely solid evening of boxing, a reminder that it is actually possible to find enough money to persuade people to punch each other without groveling to murderous regimes. Mario Barrios, who fights Abel Ramos, is on a career upswing after beating up Yordenis Ugas. Bruce “Shu Shu” Carrington is a charismatic prospect who will want to make a statement after being pushed hard in his last outing. And nobody who saw the first fight between Katie Taylor and Amanda Serrano needs any pumping up for their rematch.

It's a card that would be worth covering even without the tentpole main event. But it’s that main event that transforms the whole enterprise from a solid boxing card to a newsworthy extravaganza.

Can a former world champion, even one closing in on 60, triumph over the average 27-year-old? Quite possibly. But, whatever one thinks of his abilities, Paul has been training hard and working on his boxing skills for several years now. His quality of opposition may not have been anything to write home about, but he’s been in that rhythm – of being in camp, of preparing for a fight, of getting in the ring – while Tyson has been finding peace through marijuana and mushrooms. 

The intrigue comes from picturing the Tyson of old, rather than merely an old Tyson, unleashing one of his famous combinations early in the contest, assaulting Paul with punches of far greater power than any he has yet had to absorb. The problem is that that Tyson hasn’t been seen since, arguably, 2000, when he squashed Julius Francis, Lou Savarese, and Andrew Golota. Paul was just three years old then.

But those opening minutes especially will be crackling and tense with anticipation. There is a chance that just one telling Tyson blow will end the night early and spectacularly in a glorious moment that will be celebrated by AARP members across the land. It is, however, at least as likely that Tyson will resemble an older version of the man who couldn’t impose himself against Danny Williams or Kevin McBride, who wound up staying on his stool in Washington, D.C. as boos cascaded from the crowd.

There were plenty of warnings prior to the Hindenburg disaster, in the form of multiple crashes of airships in the preceding years, although not all filmed for newsreel or accompanied by Morrison’s commentary. And if the worst happens, and a once-great champion is humiliated or even hurt by a significantly younger man, we can’t say we weren’t warned, either: not only by Tyson experiencing a medical emergency that forced the date to be postponed but by our own eyes and ears and common sense.

Tyson-Paul is a gladiatorial distraction from deeply uncertain and highly tense times. It may result in a moment of victory for Generation X. It may end in disaster.

Either way, it will be newsworthy. I like to think Herb Morrison would have been there.

Oh, the humanity!

Kieran Mulvaney has written, broadcast and podcasted about boxing for HBO, Showtime, ESPN and Reuters, among other outlets. He also writes regularly for National Geographic, has written several books on the Arctic and Antarctic, and is at his happiest hanging out with wild polar bears. His website is www.kieranmulvaney.com.