(So sad to be republishing this tribute to a great man - four years after first writing it and posting it - Farewell Ali, RIP - 4th June 2016)
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Was packing to move
home recently, sorting out boxes of old stuff, and throwing things out.
Wondered if I should just bin the VCR that had had been shoved away under the
stairs when the DVD player took its place – who watches videos these days?
Nobody I know.
Behind the VCR was a
cardboard box of old videos – old recordings of old programmes that held no
interest anymore – most of them had probably never even been watched, just
recorded and stored for a rainy day and then forgotten.
Sifting through the videos I was hoping there was none I
would want to keep, because that would mean I would have to keep the VCR – so
much junk in life, just want to get rid of it all.
Then I saw one video
with a name written on the label and I knew straight away I would have to keep
the VCR. Fifteen years have passed since I had recorded the event on the tape –
a very special event – on the night of Monday, March 24th 1997.
Ten minutes later I
had set up the VCR, plugged in, and replayed the tape, which brought a lump to
my throat as it all, came back to me so clearly.
Like most other
insomniacs here in the UK, on Monday March 24th 1997, I watched the
69th Oscars all the way through until 5.30.a.m on Tuesday morning. We all knew
– because the experts had already told us so – that The English Patient was going to pick up an Oscar in nearly every
category, so it promised to be a boring and predictable night.
Was I in for a surprise! It happened about
an hour into the show; the nominations for `Best Documentary Picture.’
Suddenly the music and
the fast rapping singing of The Fugees thundered out at the same time as
the backdrop screen showed a series of shots of a young man in a boxing
ring – a dynamically beautiful young black man who still has one of the most
recognisable faces in the world. It was a face that took me straight back to
the early days of my youth, straight back to dream city when anything was possible
and our heroes really were great.
Back then there were no
fake celebrities with minimal talent who spent most of their time peddling
stuff in TV commercials – but there were a lot of stars – real stars of
their professions.
The five nominations for `Best Documentary
Film’ now over, Tommy Lee Jones opened the red-sealed envelope, and smiled his
approval. When We Were Kings, made by Leon Gast and David Sonenberg, had won
the Oscar.
The applause was good, but not rapturous.
Maybe, like myself, many people were puzzled by the title, When We Were Kings, because for so many of us, the boxing world has
only ever had one king – a man who was more than just
the greatest boxer of his time and perhaps all time – three times heavyweight
champion of the world – Muhammad Ali.
Everyone listened patiently as Leon Gast
stood at the microphone and gave thanks, deservedly, to everyone involved in
the making of the film. But when he finally said those two magical words – “Muhammad Ali” – the applause thundered,
followed by the entire audience rising to a tumultuous standing ovation as THE
MAN himself walked slowly onto the stage.
He was 55 years old,
back then in 1997, and Ali was no longer the man he once was, impaired as he is
by failing health. Where the punches of
so many boxers couldn’t catch him, Parkinson’s syndrome finally did. Some of
the audience were crying as they choked back the emotion, but I knew it was not
pity or sadness they felt as they stared at this monument of a man with awe and
reverence. They knew they were in the presence of a man who deserved to be honoured.
And if the film When We Were Kings helped to do that, helped to remind people of
just how great Muhammad Ali was, then I hope it broke sales-targets all over
the world.
The story of Muhammad Ali is not just the
story of a great athlete; it's a story of courage, of determination, and a man
who possessed a firelight magic of wit and charm that warmed up the world.
If you never knew him, if he was not a part
of your world, or if you have just forgotten him, then let me remind you who he
was, and who he still is.
In 1954, at the age of
twelve, Cassius Clay, a black kid from Louisville, Kentucky, suddenly realised
that he was never going to be able to buy the American Dream. His parents had
no money, so nobody was going to hand him the good life on a plate for free.
Also, his grades in school were no better than average, so it was unlikely he
would end up a whiz-kid lawyer or financier on Wall Street either – even in a
firm that did hire black people, and
in 1954 many of them didn't.
But like James Brown, Cassius Clay was
black and he was proud, and if he couldn't buy the American Dream then he would
just have to earn it – by the pursuit
of excellence in the game he played best.
By
the time he was fourteen he was training hard and relentlessly at his local gym
and telling all his friends, `See me, Cassius Clay, one day I'm going to be the
heavyweight boxing champion of the world.'
After that he went on to win six Kentucky
Golden Gloves championships, two national Golden Gloves tournaments, and in
1960, at the age of 19, he went to Rome and won the Olympic Gold Medal for
America.
Less
than four years later in Miami, on February 25th 1964, Cassius Clay beat the
previously "indestructible" Sonny Liston in seven rounds. At the age
of 22 Cassius had fulfilled his dream and become the heavyweight-boxing
champion of the world.
Ten years thereafter he
was the most famous man on the planet, and possibly one of the richest. By that
time he had discarded what he regarded as his "slave name" of Cassius
Clay and had become the legend known as Muhammad Ali.
To fully understand the
magic and impact of the man, I suppose – as that song says
– `Guess you had to be there,' –
when every young guy seemed to be perpetually
raising both fists triumphantly in the air and chanting the Ali boast –
`I am the Grrrrrrr-eatest!'
Some older
journalists will tell you that more words have been written in newspapers about
Muhammad Ali than any other public figure in history. But if that's true, it
was because Ali was a reporter's dream. He never stopped talking. He took care
of his own publicity and promoted every one of his fights by upgrading bragging
into an art form.
"Man, I'm so great, I impress even
myself."
`Would you consider yourself a good role
model for children?' a reporter once asked him.
`I'm a perfect role model for children,' Ali replied sincerely,
`because I'm good looking, clean living and modest.'
`Modest?'
`Well, you know, it’s hard to be modest
when you're as great as I am.'
And then there were his poems, hundreds of
them; some say he made one up for every fight and one for every reporter he
ever met.
This is the legend of Muhammad Ali
The greatest fighter that ever
will be
He talks a great deal and brags,
yes indeed
Of a powerful punch and blinding
speed.
Ali fights great, he's got speed
and endurance
If you sign to fight him, increase your
insurance
Ali's got a left, Ali's got a
right
If he hits you once, you're
asleep for the night.
Inside the ring he had speed,
grace and magic, a champion's champion. Outside the ring he was a non-stop
entertainer, and it was the entertainer that all the females loved. He took the sport of boxing from the back
page and put it on the front page. He turned the fight business into
showbusiness. And when Ali stopped, all that stopped too. And the void he left
behind has never been filled, not by anyone. As Ali himself used to say about
his opponents, "I'm the
greatest, they're just the latest."
Boxing has returned to the back pages and nobody gets very excited
anymore.
Until, that is, on Monday night, 24th
March 1997, when Muhammad Ali walked onto the stage of the 69th Academy Award
Ceremony to receive the Oscar for When We
Were Kings.
Watching the recording again tonight, I saw all those stars
standing up in ovation, I saw James Woods simply mouthing the word “Wow” and
other top actors biting their lips with emotion as they clapped and clapped their
hands for the man who so deservedly was the star of the film “When We Were
Kings.”
And it wasn’t just empty or vainglorious
emotion, no; because all of that audience knew that the awesome man
standing up there on the stage was a true and great fighter, not only in
boxing, but also in heart and in spirit.
They had all seen the proof of that only a
year earlier, along with billions of people all over the globe, when Muhammad
Ali, as ill as he was, had forced himself forward with every step until he
finally and determinedly reached the flame and lit the torch for the start of
the Olympic Games in Atlanta in 1996, holding the flaming torch high, not just
for America, not just for the entire world – but for every young athlete who
was preparing to take part in those Olympic Games, just as he had once done in
his own youth, and won Gold.
Sure he was an audacious
bragger about himself. Sure he said terrible things about his opponents before
every fight, but a lot of it was just talk to create a buzz in the media and a
frenzy amongst reporters so the fight would begin in the newspapers long before
he and his opponent even stepped into the ring.
He later explained they were just “promotional
insults” and so they may have been, because every opponent of Muhammad Ali
immediately received a worldwide fame and riches that might never have been
theirs if Ali had never entered the boxing world.
The opponent who
suffered the worst of those “promotional
insults” was Joe Frazier – his opponent in the big fight screened all over
the world and labelled “The Thriller in Manila.”
Yet, when Joe Frazier died only five months
ago in November 2011 from cancer, Muhammad Ali, much frailer now, but showing
the same heart and determination as he had shown in Atlanta, forced himself
with every step to attend Joe’s funeral.
Another opponent, the one he hurt the most
with defeat in the ring, was legendary
fighter and champion George Foreman who was beaten by Ali in Zaire, and
although it took George Foreman seven years to finally forgive boxing’s biggest
icon for beating him, he went on to become Ali’s close friend, paying tribute
to him just three months ago in January when speaking about Ali’s illness.
“I
don’t feel sorry for him; I feel proud that I even know him. All those years
ago, Ali didn’t fall in love with being young and doing that dancing shuffle in
the boxing ring, he fell in love with life.
“I don’t feel sad about his illness, because the guy is
still a hero. He’s still living, he doesn’t hide himself away, he’s above pity.
He’s still beautiful to me.”
In the world of boxing, Muhammad Ali is still regarded
as “the greatest,” and not even his
increasing burden of suffering from Parkinson’s syndrome will ever take that
title away from him. Along with the Olympic Gold Medal he won for America at
the age of 19, he won that title fair and square, in the ring.
(When We Were Kings – A documentary film about
Ali’s winning fight against George Foreman in Zaire, labelled “The Rumble In
The Jungle”)
© Gretta
Curran Browne 2012
Ali Image (C) The Telegraph
All Gretta Curran Browne's eBook Titles can be obtained from Amazon.
