ACCORDING to the perverse logic of pugilism, the greatness of a bout is measured by the mutual devastation inflicted by the protagonists. By this criterion, the world heavyweight contest between Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier, under the hot tin roof of the Philippine Coliseum 30 years ago today, is without equal. It was the last, and best, in a trilogy of contests involving the pair that have justly been described as the “Pyramids of boxing”. Ali would later call it “the closest thing to dying”.
To watch it now is to marvel at its unrelenting brutality and, by implication, to feel a sense of complicity in the respective tragedies that engulfed the two men partly as a consequence of Manila. Ali is now a ghost of his former self, living a life of mute martyrdom on an old farm in Berrien Springs, Michigan, brought low by a boxing-induced illness that robbed him of his virtuoso powers of communication.
Frazier, on the other hand, has spent the past three decades nursing a grudge against his conqueror, something that has poisoned his soul and robbed an essentially decent man of the inner peace that his heroism deserved.
His bitterness is the stuff of legend. In one of the many biographies of Ali, published 14 years ago, Frazier offered a glimpse inside. “Look at him now,” he said. “He’s damaged goods. I know it, you know it. Him or me; which one talks worse now? I don’t care how the world looks at him. I see him different and I know him better than anyone. Manila don’t matter no more. He’s finished, and I ’m still here.”
Frazier’s festering wounds were not inflicted by Ali’s fists but by his tongue. The insults, a familiar feature of Ali’s pre-bout vaudeville, were uncharacteristically gratuitous. He described Frazier as “dumb”, “ugly” and an “Uncle Tom”. But when the world moved on, the labels stuck. “It will be a killer and a chiller and a thrilla when I get the gorilla in Manila,” Ali joked.
Viewed through the prism of Frazier’s lasting hurt, the pre-Manila press conferences are heart-rending, the challenger vainly attempting to match the champion’s banter while the world sniggers at his verbal inadequacy. As the barbs got funnier — “Joe Frazier is so ugly he should donate his face to the US Bureau of Wildlife” — Frazier’s acrimony intensified in the manner of someone who has had his sweetheart stolen by a wittier, more charismatic suitor. In this case, Ali wooed the world at Frazier’s expense.
And so Frazier has sat and stewed, like a spurned lover, as accolade upon mighty accolade has rained down upon his foe. When he spoke this year of Ali’s Parkinson’s disease with apparent triumph — “I did that to him. I’ll outlive him” — it seemed that the old warrior would take his bitterness to the grave. But in a frank and emotional interview this week, Frazier spoke at long last of the forgiveness that he has discovered in his ageing heart, thus bringing the curtain down on 30 years of hurt.
At 61, Frazier walks with a limp, the legacy of a motor accident, and talks with the trademark slur of a retired prizefighter. He owns the gym in Philadelphia that served as his training base for the bouts that redefined the limits of human perseverance. His 30 or so charges are amateurs. “All my fighters are champions until the bell rings,” he said. “Then they start breathing heavy. ‘
What round is this?’ they ask. ‘The fight has only just damn well started,’ I tell them.”
When I turned the conversation to the subject of his nemesis, it was with a sense of trepidation and an expectation of the customary vitriol. But when he spoke, his words were those of a chastened old man who has grown tired of hating.
“The Butterfly [Ali] and me have been through some ups and downs and there have been lots of emotions, many of them bad. But I have forgiven him,” he said. “I had to. This is 30 years on. You cannot hold out for ever. I hope that he can walk and talk properly again and enjoy his grandchildren. I have 28 grandchildren and three great-grandchildren and they give me joy. I hope Muhammad can find that joy.”
Unfairly, perhaps cruelly, I persisted, eager to test the sincerity of that forgiveness, even reminding him of the taunts that have burnt in his soul for three decades. He paused and there was an audible exhalation of breath. “There were bruises in my heart because of the words he used,” he said. “I spent years dreaming about him and wanting to hurt him. But you have got to throw that stick out of the window.
“Do not forget that we needed each other to produce some of the greatest fights of all time.”
Frazier triumphed in the first of those bouts, in 1971, against an opponent coming back after a 3?-year boxing exile caused by his refusal to be inducted into the Vietnam War. Ali gained revenge in a non-title bout three years later, after Frazier had lost the title to George Foreman. Ali subsequently defeated Foreman in the Rumble in the Jungle, setting the scene for the rubber match against Frazier. As Jerry Izenberg, an American sports writer, put it: “They were fighting for something more important than the heavyweight championship of the world. They were fighting for the heavyweight championship of each other.”
After 14 rounds of toe-to-toe savagery, Frazier was bleeding from his mouth, his misshapen face covered in lumps. The spirit was willing but the body was falling apart. Despite Frazier’s protestations, Eddie Futch, his trainer, who died in 2001, refused to allow him to come out for the final round. “It was the right decision,” Frazier now concedes. “A trainer has to know a fighter better than the fighter knows himself. I could not see the punches coming; the problems with my eyes were already there after the Olympics in 1964. Eddie did the right thing. He is a good man. If we had more people like Ed, the world would be a better place.”
If we had more boxers such as Frazier, the sport would be a more brutal and a more beautiful place. His triumphs in the ring are the stuff of legend. But his greatest triumph has taken 30 years to achieve and in the process he has glimpsed the eternal wisdom of Alexander Pope: “To err is human; to forgive, divine.”
ROUND BY ROUND FRAZIER DOMINATES THE MIDDLE BUT ALI LASTS THE DISTANCE
ROUND 1: Ali starts quickly but Frazier smiles, revelling in facing his adversary in the ring once again. Ali wobbles Frazier with a left hook as the round comes to an end.
ROUND 2: Frazier gets in close and pounds Ali about the arms, but the champion dominates at long range with his superior reach.
ROUND 3: Ali lands a punch from afar, then lies back against the ropes and beckons Frazier towards him. Frazier takes the bait until Ali fires back with a succession of lightning blows. The pace is devastating.
ROUND 4: Frazier begins to grunt with the exertion of his punches. He is the aggressor but Ali does the majority of the scoring.
ROUND 5: The lightning pace continues with Frazier landing a couple of vicious hooks as Ali once again retreats to the ropes. Ali looks concerned as he heads for his corner at the end of the round.
ROUND 6: Frazier starts brilliantly, nailing Ali with his trademark hooks.
ROUND 7: Ali scores with some solid, long jabs, but Frazier’s sustained aggression again wins the round.
ROUND 8: Three minutes of toe-to-toe action in the middle of the ring as the crowd rises to its feet. Frazier has the edge.
ROUND 9: Ali dominates from distance but Frazier has further success on the inside near the end.
ROUND 10: More gruelling action with both men landing punches. Both are near the limit of their energy reserves.
ROUND 11: Frazier lands vicious blows to the head, particularly with right hooks, but Ali fires back. The crowd rises to its feet once again.
ROUND 12: Ali starts well, scoring heavily. Blood begins to drip from the challenger’s mouth as his strength starts to sap away. Both men slump on their stools at the bell.
ROUND 13: Against all expectation, Ali finds renewed vigour. He fires a succession of fierce punches, Frazier’s mouthpiece goes flying and swelling starts to impede his vision.
ROUND 14: Ali unloads as the crowd reaches a fever pitch of excitement. Frazier’s shots lack conviction. They trade blows toe to toe with Ali landing at will, swivelling Frazier’s head with punch after punch. Eddie Futch, Frazier’s trainer, refuses to allow his charge out for the final round — despite Frazier’s protests — thus ending the greatest bout of all time.
