was my hero.
I had never really been into sports but with his outragiousness and larger-than-life personality and accomplishments both inside and outside the boxing ring, Muhmmad Ali galvanized me as a young man, and I became a devoted follower of all that he did.
I have so many Ali memories, some funny, some tearful, many of them inspirational.
Of all the Ali fights that I saw none made so much of an impression upon me as when I attended the live closed circuit presentation of his Rumble in the Jungle with George Foreman at Toronto's Maple Leaf Gardens in 1974. I went to the fight afraid of what I might see because the undefeated Foreman seemed so indestructible. I had bet my money on Ali, even though I really thought he would lose that night, because if my hero was going to lose, I wanted to go down with him.
Of course, Ali proved me and the entire world wrong that night when he fought a brilliant strategy fight (the "rope-a-dope" as it later became known), fooling even his own corner who would were not expecting him to try to let the young champion punch himself out that way, and knocked out Foreman.
It wasn't until the fifth round that I realized that Ali was going to win. My heart was in my mouth for the first four rounds, with Foreman pummeling away on Ali's body (Ali making a point to cover his face and chin). Foreman did land some thundering blows on Muhammad but, his body in perhaps the best cast iron condition of his career, he took those shots in a manner that Foreman's previous opponents (including Joe Frazier and Ken Norton, both knocked out in two rounds each) had not been able to.
Then came the fifth. This was a round in which Ali lay almost exclusively on the ropes as Foreman stood in front of him and wailed away on Ali's rib cage and arms with roundhouse blows that could have felled a tree. And yet, in the last thirty seconds of that round, Ali suddenly moved away from the ropes, almost floating, and landed a perfect combination of shots on Foreman's head, snapping that head back as he did so.
Foreman lunged forward, Ali catching his head under an arm and, as he did so, Muhammad stuck his tongue out at a ringside observer.
As I saw him stick that tongue out in defiance I then KNEW (!!!) that I was watching history, that he was about to win the fight. That it was Ali, not the seemingly awesome Foreman, that was in control. And at that moment I leaped to my feet in Maple Leaf Gardens and started hysterically screaming, "ALI'S GONNA WIN! ALI'S GONNA WIN!"
And, of course, three rounds later Foreman was knocked out, and the joyous crowds surged the ring with Muhammad being carried by his fans and admirers in triumph. The Great Man had done it, defying all his critics once again, just as he had done ten years before when he had defeated that "Big Ugly Bear" Sonny Liston.
And a year later came the Thrilla in Manila, perhaps Muhammad's greatest performance in the ring, when he finally stopped Joe Frazier after 14 rounds of brutality which Ali would later call "the closest I ever came to death."
He was, at that moment, in the eyes of so many, a true Superman.
In retrospect, it would have been best if Ali had retired then, but it's easy to be a Monday morning quarterback. Ali loved the limelight too much to quit so he hung on to the championship for three more years, during which he was slowing and his skills obviously declining. He was particularly stunned by a cannonball shot that landed on his jaw by Earnie Shavers in the second round of their fight. Somehow Ali didn't go down (he always had a great jaw) and he went on to win the fight, but his fight doctor, Ferdy Pacheco, quit his corner after that fight, fearful of what the sport was doing to Ali and his slowing reflexes.
Ali would lose to Leon Spinks then beat him in a rematch to become a three time champ, then he retired. He made a terrible decision at a comeback a couple of years later against Larry Holmes. I went to that fight, cried later after what I had seen because, as a fighter, he had nothing left except chutzpah. And chutzpah just wasn't enough for an athlete who suddenly seemed so old against the young Holmes, a former sparring partner of Muhammad's, then in his prime. Soon after that he was gone from the ring for good with a record of 56-5, possibly the greatest athlete in the history of sports, certainly an athlete whose accomplishments can stand next to that of any other.
And what figure in sports was more of a natural showman and promoter, or rose to become a prominent figure of civil rights, as well as charities. Ali was so much more than just a sports figure. And he was philosophical about the parkinson's disease, his most savage and relentless opponent in life, saying that it was God's way of testing him.
But what a tragedy that that disease finally robbed Ali of his ability to speak. And, oh, how he could talk!
BUT he never lost his spirit! And we saw that at the opening Olympics ceremony in Atlanta in 1996 when Ali surprised the world once again. There he was, with the whole world watching, as, with shaking arms, he lit the Olympic torch!
Behind the scenes Olympics officials were holding their breath, afraid that with his physical affictions Ali might do something to embarrass himself and the Olympics. But it didn't happen, as Ali kept a steady gaze on that flame, fought his shaking limbs, and lit that torch.
There, for all the world to see, was Muhammad Ali saying, in essence, what he could no longer verbalize, "I AM A PROUD OLYMPIAN!"
It's impossible for me to express my multitude of emotions now with today's sad news.
RIP Champ. Both inside and outside the ring, you really were the greatest.
With my user name, it's obvious that he was right in my wheelhouse during the '60s and '70s. He, Babe Ruth, and Michael Jordan were the greatest athletic figures of the 20th Century.
