The Greatest of All Time

Saul: A man has the right to change his name to vatever he vants to
change it to. And if a man vants to be called Muhammad Ali, godammit
this is a free country, you should respect his vishes, and call the
man Muhammad!
Morris: His mamma call him Clay, amma call him Clay.
(Coming to America)

By Steven Doherty

2016 has been a good year for the undertaker.
Prince, Bowie, Wogan, Corbett, George Martin, and others have all
given up the fags in a year that has not even hit the half way point.
And while individually and collectively we’ve mourned their loss,
there’s no one quite like Muhammed Ali. ‘The greatest’ has gone…
The great man had been unwell for some time, but he’s made so many
dramatic come-backs in and out of the ring we all expected him to
cheat death once more. Not this time.
Ballykelly. Beautiful, beautiful Ballykelly. In truth there was very
little for the young Doherty brothers to do in the ‘village of the
damned’ growing up, other than sliding down the stairs on my parents
Boney M records or leafing through the lingerie section of me ma’s
Kays catalogue.
However, Farren’s Gym changed all that and provided the perfect outlet
for excess energy and rascality. The Warrior’s Code joined the local
boxing club run by the great Bobby Farren and life changed for the
better. The smell of sweat, the sawdust, scantily clad Cultchies
beating the head of each other – the Warrior’s Code fell in love with
the sport of boxing completely.
The 1980s were a golden era for boxing, and not just in the Gorteen
Hotel carpark. The welterweight/middleweight division was staggeringly
good. Sugar Ray Leonard, Marvellous Marvin Hagler, Thomas ‘The Hit
Man’ Hearns and Roberto Duran - the ‘Four Kings of the Ring’ would
fight one another nine times throughout the decade and win sixteen
world titles between them. We were captivated by this rivalry and
watched every chapter in their ongoing battles on terrestrial
television. Oh, and Rocky Balboa taught us more life lessons in the
Strand Cinema than any teacher could in the classroom.
At this point the Warrior’s Code has a confession to make, a crime to
admit to. We still have the Rocky VI VHS tape we borrowed from the
Ballykelly Video Library back in 1985. At £1 a night, I reckon I owe
the owner just over £11,000 pounds. Worth every penny…
Anyways, I found myself re-watching the Muhammad Ali / Joe Frazier/
George Foreman fights over the weekend. It was a cathartic experience.
Closure, if you will. Sometimes when you revisit an old love – a film,
a TV show or a woman, you can be left a little let-down if it doesn’t
quite live up to one's cherished boyhood memories. But these fights
from the classic era of boxing doesn’t fall into that category. Au
contraire, they were even better than I remembered.
Let me set the scene.

"Ali, Frazier and Foreman we were one guy. A part of me slipped away –
‘the greatest piece’, Muhammad Ali.” George Foreman

It didn’t even last five years, 1971 to 1975, but for sports fans and
fight fans it will live forever. ‘The Fight of the Century’,
‘Frazier/Ali II’’, ‘The Rumble in the Jungle’ and ‘The Thrilla in
Manila’ – four fights, three greats – Joe Frazier, George Foreman and
Muhammad Ali. The three men, by some strange accident of history
marched year by year and fight by fight across the globe from Madison
Square Garden to Jamaica, Africa and Asia. And they caught the
attention of the whole world as they did so.
Muhammad Ali, fresh off a political exile for refusing to fight in
Vietnam, his hands still as quick as his mouth. Joe Frazier, the
heavyweight champion in Ali’s absence, a virtual thrashing machine of
non-stop violence in the ring. And George Foreman – the biggest and
baddest of the lot with two wrecking ball fists of stone.
Each was an Olympic gold medallist and undefeated by the time they
became world champion. Pick one and he might have dominated boxing for
a decade. But put them together? BOOM!
At the time of their first epic contest in March 1971, both Ali and
Frazier were undefeated and swimming in the deep currents of their
talents.
Ali was the fleetest of heavyweights in history and Frazier was a
modern day Rocky Marciano, a man who wore down his opponents with his
relentless pace, power punching, and his ability to absorb punishment.
Watch ‘The Fight of the Century’, ‘Ali-Frazier II’, ‘Rumble in the
Jungle’ and ‘The Thrilla in Manilla’ – you’ll never watch Conor
McGregor again. Epic, thrilling, dramatic battles. It’s sport at it’s
very best, it’s most dangerous and courageous.
The final fight, ‘The Thrilla in Manilla’ was staged at 4 a.m. so
that it could be broadcast live in the States. The temperature hovered
at around 40 degrees in the ring with near 100 percent humidity. You
wouldn’t go out walking in those conditions nevermind fight 15 rounds
of championship boxing. After the 10th round a spent Ali came back to
the corner and whispered, “This is as close to death as it gets.”
Ali always demonstrated superhuman courage and the resolve to match
his talk. In the ring shortly after Frazier’s corner threw in the
towel, Ali announced: “Frazier’s the greatest of all times. After
me.” Gracious, and funny. Typically Ali.

The Greatest

What was it about Ali that everybody loved? He had it all – supremely
talented, a complete original, charismatic, funny. And devilishly
handsome. I loved all these things about him but what I loved even
more was his courage. Watch any of Ali’s big fights and you’ll see him
get badly hurt by concussive blows from Frazier, Larry Holmes and
George Foreman. But what you’ll also see is Ali taking the punishment
and taunting his opponent for more. It was almost suicidal, and in
truth many of those big blows may have contributed to his latter day
health problems. But for me watching, I can’t help but admire his
bravery.
Michael Parkinson’s various interviews with the great man down through
the years is TV gold. Ali, at times at his very best – funny,
mischievous, intelligent, controversial. He was irresistible.
What really stood out for me was when the renowned interviewer
recalled their last ever meeting and Parkinson describes how ‘the
spark had gone’ out of his Muhammad’s eyes. The great man was clearly
at the onset of his terrible disease and he had great difficulty even
moving his body. The Louisville Lip was no more. The sad part was, Ali
was back in the ring fighting again two months later. Tragic. Badly
advised? No doubt. But such was Ali’s ego, he still believed he was
the greatest. And to me he always will be.
Ali taunted Frazier relentlessly, and although much of it was just to
sell a fight or to get a quick laugh, some of it crossed the line.
Frazier never forgave him and would boast that he was glad he played a
part in Ali’s Parkinson disease. The two never made up and Frazier
died a bitter man, living in a shabby apartment above a boxing gym.
Ali out-lived his fierce rival, but was a hollow husk of the man we
all fell in love with. The great irony is that the man with the big
mouth has fallen silent for ever.
But in so many other ways he’ll live on forever.

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