I had followed the early career of boxer Cassius Clay, who is 6 years older than I, from Olympic light-heavyweight Gold Medal winner in Rome in 1960 to heavyweight contender, a period during which he would often predict--in verse--the round he would knock out his opponent, and he was usually right.
Many today probably don't realize that in his match against champion Sony Liston he was a 7-1 underdog and that his dramatic knockout to become heavyweight boxing champion of the world is still considered one of the greatest sports upsets of all time.
After that fight, he changed his religion and his name, becoming Muhammad Ali. I had watched all nine of his title defenses, starting with the "phantom punch" KO of Sony Liston in round one of their rematch.
Not a strong student academically, Ali had graduated from his Louisville, Kentucky, high school 376 in a class of 391. He had registered for the military draft and had taken and failed the intelligence test. Later when the Army revised its pass/fail score, Ali's score was now a passing one, thus qualifying him for military service after all.
Ali's championship title, boxing license, and U.S. passport were all taken from him for refusing to be drafted in the Army, and an all-white jury convicted him and sentenced him to 5 years in prison plus a $10,000 fine for draft evasion. He posted bond, remained free, and served no jail time while his case was on appeal, which stretched out over the next three years.
These events were occurring during the time of the U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War. "No Vietcong ever called me 'nigger,'" he said. His refusal to join the army was based on his religious beliefs. The Supreme Court ruled unanimously in his favor, 8-0 (Thurgood Marshall abstained).
Because Ali was barred from boxing from ages 25 to nearly 29, he lost the prime years of his boxing career. Ali's third boxing match after reinstatement was an opportunity to win back the title against Champion Joe Fraiser, but Ali for the first time was knocked down and ended up losing an unanimous decision. Ali was a controversial public figure, and patriotic zealots, bigots, and racists were particularly happy to see him receive a comeuppance they felt was long overdue.
I grew up in the segregated South of Jim Crow, and it wasn't until my young adulthood that I finally acquired enough education, maturity, and humanity to reject the racism and bigotry that had been my models as a child. Aside from being a great champion boxer and showman, Ali in my eyes was even greater as a fighter for religious freedom and racial equality.
It was at this low point in Ali's life, following his loss to Joe Frasier, that I met him. On Monday, January 24, 1972, Ali, now thirty, put on a public boxing exhibition locally here at the Hampton Coliseum. He was no longer the champ. This was a just a sparring session and not an actual fight, and being held on a school night--despite all of this, still about 3,700 fans showed up on a cold night to see and cheer on their hero, Muhammad Ali, back in the ring, boxing one-at-a time against four different sparring partners, starting to work his way back to another fight and eventually another title bout that would restore "The People's Champion" to his rightful place on boxing's throne.
However, that night the "boxing" generated little excitement from the fans. None of the fighters threw any serious punches. They mainly just danced around and avoided each other. The biggest applause of the night came when their hero once broke into his "Ali shuffle" and threw a quick volley of punches at his out-classed opponent. This bout was staged for show, publicity, a small paycheck, and perhaps a little training. Most of the crowd appeared to me to be black school children with adult family members.
When the sparring session was over, instead of leaving, I suddenly had a strong urge to go backstage and try meet Ali although I doubted it would be possible. I was almost 24 and had never done anything like this before, not even for Elvis or the Rolling Stones, when they had appeared here. No one stopped me, and I joined a group of about 16 others waiting to see if Ali would come out and see us. I remember feeling self-conscious about being the only white person in the group and only one of the few adults. I kept expecting someone from security to tell us Ali had left and we had to leave, but that did not happen, so we kept waiting.
After about 40 minutes on my watch, although it seemed a lot longer, Ali emerged, wearing an immaculate, glistening light-blue suit, looking more like a model in GQ than a heavyweight boxer. He was accompanied by a male entourage, likewise formally accoutered. He glanced over at us and seemed surprised. The entourage was obviously impatient to leave. One of them said, "Come on, Champ. We have to go." Ali paused, glanced back at them, and said, "People have been waiting for me. I didn't know they were here."
He walked over to us, and began shaking hands with the kids and giving autographs. I wasn't prepared, had nothing on me he could sign but my tiny torn-in-half ticket sub, and with some embarrassment, I handed it to him when it got to be my turn, and he smiled and somehow managed to fit in all of "Muhammad Ali" on it. I'm 6 feet tall, weigh over 200 pounds, and rarely feel small, but Ali seemed to tower above me majestically at 6' 3" and with his broad shoulders.
He listened and answered everyone's questions. His voice was soft, gentle, patient, and without bravado. "Yes, I'm going to win back the title, don't worry," he promised us all. He said some other things, too, but what I remember most is what he said to a little boy who said he wanted to grow up and be a boxer just like him. Ali paused, looked at the boy, then around at all the other children, and back to him, and then said, "No, don't become a boxer. It's ugly, brutal. I didn't do well in school. You get a good education and a good job. Boxing is the only thing I'm good at. That's why I do it, and it gives me a chance to influence others and make a difference in the world. I don't want any of you be a boxer." Then he waved and was gone.
You probably know the rest of Ali's story. Yes, he kept his promise and won back his title, and he lost it, and became the only heavyweight champion ever to win it three times. Sports Illustrated crowned him "Sportsman of the Century." He truly is "The Greatest."
As for me, I went on to become a teacher, and somewhere along the way I gave away my autographed Ali souvenir ticket stub to a surprised and appreciative student. Ali and I are both old now. He recently turned 72, and the only opponent he's been fighting for many years is Parkinson's disease. I'm 66, retired after 37 years.
The world is a better place now than when we were growing up. Although I did serve about 5,000 students as best I could, I'm certainly not "The Greatest." Ali has inspired millions all over the world, and he is one of the most recognizable people on earth. I feel each of us has tried to make the world a better place before we leave. That's the best any of us can do.
Muhammad Ali Theme Song Black Superman
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