EVANDER HOLYFIELD: A SYMBOL OF GOD'S VICTORY IN THE BOXING RING

 IT was as if Evander Holyfield were an evangelist missionary beating up a tribal executioner, a teacher's pet battering the schoolyard bully, a friendly sheriff gunning down the notorious gunslinger.

Quite simply, Holyfield not only wasn't afraid of Mike Tyson, he was tougher and stronger. And with

 his 11th-round knockout on Saturday night, he's now the World Boxing Association heavyweight champion.

Holyfield wasn't afraid because he had been in the ring with Tyson before, in 1984 when both were Golden Gloves champions. Holyfield was a light heavyweight then, but the day they sparred, they were so vicious, trainers jumped in the ring to separate them before the three-minute round ended. T
yson, then 18, already had the image of an assassin. But Holyfield didn't freeze into an ice sculpture and then melt as so many Tyson opponents would.

Their professional careers were on a collision course in 1990. Tyson was the champion, but Buster Douglas, who also wasn't afraid, dethroned him in Tokyo. Holyfield then dethroned Douglas, but to justify the title, he knew he needed to fight Tyson.

''Make the match,'' he told Lou Duva, his co-trainer. ''I know Mike. I'll beat him.''

Tyson's damaged ribs canceled their 1991 bout and his subsequent three-year prison term, along with Holyfield's three losses (two to Riddick Bowe, one to Michael Moorer) cast doubt on its revival. When Holyfield struggled to beat Bobby Czyz, he appeared to be just another statue to be shattered in Tyson's comeback.

But this was no statue. In the MGM Grand, where ''The Wizard of Oz'' is part of the film heritage, the 34-year-old Holyfield turned the brute known as Iron Mike into the Tin Man.

''You got to fight him to get his respect, then box him,'' Holyfield said two months ago. ''You got to box him to get him in a corner, then fight him. He's probably going to hit me, and I'll drop, but if I hit him, he'll drop too. He's not the type of person to get up a lot. Most punchers aren't accustomed to taking punches.''

And because Holyfield wasn't afraid to punch, Tyson was literally out on his feet.

By the time Holyfield arrived in the post-fight interview tent, Tyson was already on the dais, patting the lumps on his face and forehead with a towel. Whenever they were together on other recent occasions, Tyson had glared and snarled at him, but now, as Holyfield walked behind him, Tyson turned and smiled. ''I just want to shake your hand, man,'' Tyson said.

Tyson would acknowledge not remembering being knocked on the seat of his black satin trunks in the sixth round by Holyfield's left hook, not remembering being battered in the final seconds of the 10th, not remembering the referee, Mitch Halpern, rescuing him after 37 seconds of the 11th.

''I was tired. He just kept fighting. I got caught in some exchanges. In the last round, I didn't know where I was at,'' Tyson was saying now on the dais. Then he smiled and offered his right hand to Holyfield, sitting nearby. ''Thank you very much. I have the greatest respect for you.''

The late Cus D'Amato taught him that boxing wasn't so much a clash of power and strategy as it was of wills. And because Holyfield hadn't been afraid of Tyson, he was able to impose his will while breaking Tyson's will.

''I don't think about being hit,'' Holyfield said. ''I'm trying to hit him.''

The 34-year-old Holyfield also thanked his belief in God's will.

''I prayed in training,'' he said. ''I prayed in the ring. I prayed when I was fighting.''

Holyfield is now a symbol for the power of prayer and the power of heart -- he needed clearance by the Mayo Clinic before the Nevada Athletic Commission would license him. Most of Tyson's other opponents were too busy cowering to punch. Of Tyson's 47 fights, he had 30 knockouts within three rounds, including 20 in the first round.

But in Tyson's fifth fight since his release from prison, he wasn't in there with Peter McNeeley, who disappeared in 89 seconds, or Bruce Seldon, who vanished in 109 seconds. He wasn't in there with Buster Mathis Jr. or Frank Bruno, who wilted in the third.

In those four farces, Tyson fought a total of 18 minutes 20 seconds. In the seventh round Saturday night he had been in the ring longer than that. Instinctively, he continued to punch, but, just as he wearied in the late rounds against Douglas, he didn't display the mental stamina needed to survive a grueling brawl.

If Tyson's corner men, especially the trainer Jay Bright, told Tyson how to adjust to Holyfield, it wasn't apparent. ''You can't have three or four guys talking to the fighter,'' Kevin Rooney said. ''Only one guy should be talking.''

During Tyson's early years en route to being the youngest heavyweight champion in history at age 20 in 1986, Rooney was that one guy. He recently was awarded $4.4 million by a Federal jury in his breach of contract litigation against Tyson, who has appealed the verdict. Tyson would be better off rehiring him.

''I would've told Tyson to jab, jab,'' Rooney said from his Catskill, N.Y., home where he had watched the bout on television. ''Tyson's used to guys falling down. When Holyfield didn't fall down, Tyson gave up. And all that bragging before the fight. You don't do that. Once you start bragging, you're hiding something.

Tyson was not only hiding the rust from his prison term but also hiding behind the bravado of every schoolyard bully.

''You can intimidate Tyson. He hit Holyfield a couple good shots, but Holyfield fired back.''

Duva said: ''When Evander hit him back, Tyson couldn't believe it. Tyson can punch, but he can't fight.''

Duva glowed. In addition to his share of Holyfield's $11 million purse, he said the Duva family had won $230,000 on Holyfield in the Las Vegas sports books. ''We got $10,000 down at 16 to 1,'' Duva said, ''and $5,000 down at 14 to 1.''

Having exorcised Tyson's ghost, Evander Holyfield should retire now. He even indicated he'll think about it. But he's a fighter, so look for a rematch in March or June. Even Don King wants a rematch. When Tyson was dethroned by Douglas, King, who suddenly was out, whined about a long count when Douglas was down.

But this time King has the promotional rights, so he's already touting and shouting.

''Now the real fight starts,'' Duva said. ''The fight to cut up the millions.''