Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier! Yes, liver cancer has taken former world heavyweight champion Joe Frazier but the memories linger on. It’s not hard to imagine. Even an atheist or an agnostic might be able to conjure up the vision of trainer Eddie Futch (tutor of Coach Freddie Roach) and Fray-ziuh (how Muhammad Ali would draw out the pronounciation) and Smokin’ Joe behind St. Peter’s Gate. Their lively debate is, of course, should Futch have stopped the aptly named Thrilla In Manila when he did or should he have let Joe stagger to the finish line. Howard Cosell is there–right there–to referee their debate. Let me share with you some of my indelible memories of Frazier and, from Jump Street, please be advised I was always what Joe called “a Clay man.” Back in the days when they rumbled, young man, rumbled, you had to choose. No one of my generation liked both The Beatles and The Rolling Stones, you chose either one. Stones man, Clay man, some passing thoughts about this icon named Frazier. *** First time I saw Frazier he was clearly outpointed on ABC (if memory serves, Cosell called the bout) in a 1964 Tokyo Olympics eliminator which the network showed live from the Singer Bowl at the old World’s Fair site in Queens, a line drive away from Shea Stadium. Float like a rhinoceros, sting like a bee. That could’ve been roly-poly, 295 pound Buster Mathis’ ring motto. Mathis suffered a hand inury and Frazier replaced him in Tokyo, going on to win the gold.
