Muhammad Ali — the Greatest

Muhammad AliTell me the name of another boxer your grandmother stayed up all night to watch.

Tell me of another boxer your grandmother could even name.

Tell me the name of one boxer your grandmother wanted to run away with no matter how beloved your Grandad was.

That was Muhammad Ali, or Cassius Clay as your granny probably still calls him. Cassius Clay who rejected his slave name. Muhammad Ali, the man who captivated everyone’s hearts and minds except of course those Southern crackers who wanted to see that black boy whupped so bad they poured their redneck dollars into the sport and made him a rich man, at least for the moment, though it’s questionable if The Greatest died with a single penny in his pocket.

He was The Greatest on so many levels it has become impossible to talk about him because everything you say has already been said by others and said better, and that’s why talking about Muhammad Ali / Cassius Clay is such a hard thing to do.

This was a man who sacrificed his finest years, between the ages of 25 and 28, a time when he would have been at the peak of his athletic career, yet it’s hard to differ with his logic.

[dropshadowbox align=”none” effect=”lifted-both” width=”auto” height=”” background_color=”#ffffff” border_width=”1″ border_color=”#dddddd” ]My conscience won’t let me go shoot my brother, or some darker people, or some poor hungry people in the mud for big powerful America. And shoot them for what? They never called me nigger, they never lynched me, they didn’t put no dogs on me, they didn’t rob me of my nationality, rape or kill my mother and father…. How can I shoot them poor people? Just take me to jail.[/dropshadowbox]

It’s impossible to justify America’s invasion and subjugation of a small country at the other side of the globe, a country that had never done anything to America, but Muhammad Ali identified the essential problem, he articulated it and he stood by his principles in doing so.

Not only that, but he was subsequently vindicated in his stance.

He sacrificed the magnificent years when he could have bestrode the world like a Colossus, when he could have stamped his authority on the title to end all titles, simply because he didn’t see why he should kill some man who had done him no harm.

What a man.

Everything he achieved after that rests in the shadow of his wonderful principled stance and yet he went on to reaffirm his greatness time after time, though perhaps he prolonged it too much.

Such is boxing and such are the leeches who run it but if there ever existed a most-loved sporting hero, there would be few enough to compete for the title.

Muhammad Ali would be one. Perhaps Pelé would be another. I struggle to think of a third but it doesn’t matter because Muhammmad Ali is undoubtedly The Greatest.

Today we lost the finest sportsman the world has ever known.


Boxing News

What’s in the News?

It’s been a busy old day, but it was one of those days where I got a lot done, so I’m happy to relax now, have a nice glass of wine and blather some nonsense at you.

If you were looking for weirdness, you wouldn’t need any drugs today.  Just switch on the news and let the weirdness wash over you but never fear that it might run out.  There’s plenty of serious weirdness in the world this last 24 hours or so, and for sheer lunatic, ignorant madness, it would be hard to beat Rick Perry, addressing an audience in South Carolina.

Turkey, according to Rick, is ruled by Islamic terrorists.

Let’s give him some credit before we go any further, or perhaps the credit should go to his election team, who explained to him that Turkey is a country  not a big chicken.  His redneck audience is probably still scratching its head.  That boy talkin’ ’bout a turkey-shoot?

Perry is talking about an ally of the United States, a Nato member and a country with a secular government which has experienced its share of religious fundamentalist violence.  Now, admittedly, there is the unresolved matter of the Armenian genocide which Turkey still denies, but there is also the matter of the Kurds, so abominably treated by successive Turkish governments.  However, the oppression of minorities isn’t something that worries this presidential candidate.

His reason for saying that Islamic terrorists run Turkey?  They protested about the piracy of the Mavi Marmara and murder of Turkish citizens by Israeli military personnel.

I protested vehemently about the attack on the convoy, which, I suppose makes me the world’s first atheist Islamic terrorist.

Somehow, in Perry’s demented vision, the Gaza flotilla transmutes into the anti-Israel flotilla, which strikes me as doubly ironic considering the bunch of drooling rednecks he was addressing.  This constituency has a history of Klan activity and they weren’t averse to stringing up the odd Jew along with the uppity blacks, but of course, I forget.  This is American Republican politics in all its ill-informed, overweight, burger-munching glory.

In the land of the sound-bite, the idiot is King.

But if you think that’s insane, flip on over to the conversation between the harbourmaster in Isola del Giglio and the captain of the Costa Concordia, Francesco Schettino.

Get back on board! orders the port commander.  That’s an order!

It seems I was too kind to Francesco in an earlier post.  The reports now are suggesting that he deliberately ran the ship close to the shore so that a crew member could wave to someone on land, and it also seems that this is a fairly common practice.  Imagine that.  You’re in command of a giant ship that cost the guts of a billion euros to build.  It has thousands of people on board, but you decide to scoot it past an island like you’re driving a  Vespa.   Ciao, Signorina!

After crashing his enormous ship onto a rock, what did Schettino do?

Well, obviously, he did what any professional ship’s captain would, didn’t he?

No.  He issued the order to abandon ship and then he ran for it.  Women and children first?  Well, yes, but not before Il Capitano.

Now look.  I don’t know about you, but I always imagined that the people in charge of ships, from the smallest river-steamer to the mightiest ocean liner, are highly-trained experts.  I wouldn’t have assumed for even a second that the man in charge of a magnificent vessel like the Costa Concordia would be anything other than a consummate professional, but instead, what do I hear in the recorded conversations broadcast tonight?  A bumbling coward doing his best to bullshit a real professional, the Giglio harbour-master, who can’t believe his ears as he instructs the craven fool to get back on board his vessel and behave as a captain should.

Weird.  Weird.  Weird.

Where can we turn for a dose of anti-weirdness?  Well, what about turning to the great Muhammad Ali, whose 70th birthday is today and who has more dignity in his trembling hand than either Schettino or Perry have in their entire bodies.

Remember that interview Ali gave with Parkinson?

Why do you box in the Deep South?   They all hate you.

Yeah.  They’re sayin’ whup that nigger, whup that nigger.

And I’m sayin ‘ ten thousand twenty thousand

Whup that nigger

Forty thousand fifty thousand

Whup that nigger

Sixty thousand.

He is one clever man, but I wonder what Rick Perry’s South Carolina Jew-hatin’, Jew-lovin’, nigger-hatin’ conflicted Klansmen really think about this thoughtful man who refused to kill people in South-East Asia on the very solid grounds that they never did anything to him?  Let’s not forget that Ali sacrificed his entire career to defend a principle, and as a consequence, the world never saw him at his peak, which is an astonishing thought.  If the artistry he displayed was only a preview, what might he have shown us if the US government hadn’t chosen to prove a point by drafting this young black man?

His refusal to enlist  wasn’t cowardice.  The likelihood is that Ali would never have seen action, and he was smart enough to know that.  They’d have put him on the Elvis circuit, and he would have been required to endorse a war he considered immoral.

He could have gone along with the lie, as so many other celebrities did, but he chose not to, and that will stand to his eternal credit.

Thank you Muhammad Ali.  Reliable as always.  Just when I thought we were going to sink in a sea of weirdness, I’m rescued by a man of principle.




Muhammad Ali Comes to Ireland

Muhammad_Ali_NYWTSMuhammad Ali will be in Ireland to re-discover his Irish roots this week.  The “Greatest” is due in Ennis on Tuesday to visit the ancestral home of his great grandfather Abe Grady, and to accept the award of Freeman — the first in the town’s history.

Abe Grady left his Turnpike Road home in Ennis in the early 1860s, setting sail for the USA from Cappa Harbour in Kilrush – one of the hundreds of thousands fleeing a country devastated by the aftershocks of the Great Famine and London’s totally inadequate response to the greatest natural disaster to befall Europe in the 19th century.

Grady eventually settled in Kentucky and married a “freed” coloured woman, whose name is still unknown. One of the daughters of that union, Odessa Grady Clay, is Ali’s mother.

Ali originally fought as Cassius Clay, winning a gold medal at light heavyweight at the 1960 Olympic Games in Rome under that name.  Contrary to erroneous claims, he didn’t throw that medal into the Ohio river in disgust at being refused service in a Louisville restaurant because he was black. He lost it in Miami years later.

Clay, who stopped Alvin Lewis in the 11th round at Croke Park in 1972, changed his name to Muhammad Ali in 1964 after becoming involved with the controversial Nation of Islam, under the then rabidly anti-Semitic Malcolm X and Elijah Muhammad, a man who maintained a controlling influence over the fighter’s affairs until he died in 1975.

The Nation of Islam, of which Ali was an enthusiastic member, and the Ku Kluk Klan, shared one common racist thread — they both believed that whites and blacks should be segregated.

Ali was just a pale shadow of himself at the University of Illinois in Chicago in November 2007.  He arrived in the room trailing clouds of past glories, epic tales of battles lost and won both inside and outside the ring.

These days Parkinson’s disease and old age have ravaged the once lightning reflexes and he no longer floats like a butterfly nor stings like a bee but the champ can still charm them like Rudolf Valentino.  Just five minutes into his visit to the University – he’s there as a guest of the AIBA ahead of the 2007 World Senior Championships and Olympic qualifiers – he has the assembled crowd in the palm of his hand.zaire ali foreman 001

“I’m so fast that when I hit the light switch on my bedroom wall I’m in bed and under the covers before the light is off,”  he insists.

Everyone has heard this line before, secondhand. But they’ve never heard it from Ali, that’s the difference.  The room is in uproar.  Warming to his task he then wants to know who the heavyweight champion is and proceeds to call him out, predicting that he’ll go down in six, maybe five, he adds, “cause I’m in a mean mood.”

Below in the vast auditorium the word is beginning to spread that Ali is in the building. Hundreds of young boxers, there to represent their countries at the Championships, which are also acting as a qualifier for the Beijing Olympics, have gathered and are looking up at the balcony in anticipation.

Ali appears and the place erupts. The 1960 Olympic light heavyweight grabs the microphone and booms: “Ali !”

And hundreds of voices shout back in unison. “Bombaye”. This goes on for about three minutes and there isn’t a dry eye in the house.  Memories of the Rumble in the Jungle when the Zaireans come out in their tens of thousands to lend their support to Ali with chants of, “Ali Bombaye”. Bombaye, muhammad-ali-2incidentally, means “kill him”, the him in question being George Foreman, Ali’s opponent in the famous Rumble in the Jungle in 1974.

Foreman had made a massive PR mistake on his first visit to the country after he allowed himself to be pictured walking around with a German Shepherd on a leash  The Belgians, former colonists of the country which is now the Democratic Republic of Congo, used German Shepherds as part of their security apparatus during their tenure.

Ali, the challenger, used the “rope and dope” tactics during that bout, lying on the ropes, popping up with the occasional jab, but mostly shipping heavy ordnance from Foreman, who was defending his WBA and WBC belts.

The fight also had a political significance as the USA, bitterly divided between conservatives and liberals over the Vietnam war, were still at loggerheads.   Mississippi was still smouldering as America inched its way towards reconciling itself with its constitutional imperative that all men are created equal.

“Is that all you got George?  My mum can punch harder than that, come on man put some effort into it,” was just some of the advice Ali gave  Foreman as the leather was flying in Kinshasa.  Eventually Forman punched himself out and Ali sprang from the ropes and knocked him out in the sixth round, reclaiming  his World title in the process.

According to the liberal press, King Arthur had returned to reclaim Camelot, Foreman being unfortunately cast in the role of Mordred.  One hour after the scheduled 15 rounder ended the clouds burst as the monsoon season began in earnest.  Of course Ali insisted that he had spoken to the weather Gods before the fight and they’d agreed to hold off the rain until after he’d taken care of business.

The handful of journalists, used to Ali’s outrageous claims before, during and after bouts, were strangely muted.  Given the miracle they had just witnessed in the ring they were probably thinking there was an element of truth to his claim.

Ali lost his last fight in the Bahamas in 1981 on a unanimous decision to woefully inept Trevor Berwick, a man who puched so light you wouldn’t be guaranteed to hear him if he was knocking at your front door, a man whom Ali would have destroyed in his prime.

The fool who promoted that match neglected to provide a proper ringside bell and had to  borrow a cowbell from a local farmer.  The greatest career in the history of sport ending on the incongruous sound of a cow bell.  Hugh McIlvanney wrote that it was like watching a King ride into exile on the back of a garbage truck.

Ali will arrive at Shannon airport at 2.30pm on Tuesday. He will then travel to Ennis Town Council’s HQ for the civic reception where he will be made an honorary freeman of Ennis.

His dismissive attitude toward Joe Frazier, with whom he was involved in an epic trilogy, Ali winning two and Frazier one at Madison Square Garden, was a disgraceful chapter in the three times world heavyweight champion’s career.  Smokin’ Joe was a fighter, a gladiator.  Sure, he lacked Ali’s skills, but he made up for that deficit with sheer raw courage and  a refusal to accept defeat. But Ali, who received hand outs from Frazier when he was banned from boxing, – the Nation Of Islam were conspicuous by their absence around that time but they were back on the scene like a shot when Ali got his licence back – called his great rival an “Uncle Tom” and mocked his slurred speech. Ali said later that he regretted his words and praised Frazier for being a great champion, but the damage to Ali’s reputation was done.

Was Ali, who won his first fight as an amateur on a split decision over an Irish/American kid called Ronnie O’Keefe the greatest? I reckon that Sugar Ray Robinson  was the best pound-for-pound fighter of all time.  However, it could be argued that Ali was denied the opportunity to box in his prime because he refused to go to Vietnam, a decision that saw his licence to fight revoked for three years in 1967. By the time he returned to the ring, he was past his best.  His speed had diminished and the world never got to see the great Muhammad Ali fighting at the height of his powers.