Michelangelo in black and white Everlast trunks.
Beethoven in ring motion. A fistic Ray Charles with visions of purpose fulfilled. I think of Muhammad Ali, and wonder if he’s bathing in the “Purple Rain” our fallen Prince left us soaking in not long ago.
He never lacked the courage of his convictions, for he, as Cassius Clay, had to fight — even to become Muhammad Ali, owed to his dark allegiance to the militant Nation of Islam in the revolutionary 1960’s. He was bolder than JFK – (who only threatened to expose the Illuminati and the Federal Reserve) for not only did Ali agree with him, but he then directly told the U.S. government that “Ain’t no Vietcong ever call me nigg*r,” and essentially, “I ain’t going”.
He was the very last champion of the world who defended our honor everywhere, while doing more for civil rights in this country than any athlete in the history of sports. Ali will remain the symbol of boxing, an iconic image of outstretched arms in victory that surpasses the NBA logo of Jerry West.
If Dr. King’s message to the community was a non-violence that almost threatened to make the black male docile – or, if Malcolm X was attempting to incite the black man into too much violence, it was Ali who best symbolized the eagle on the dollar’s back: a seeker of peace, but ready for war.
He fought for us in front of nations, Kings and Queens, and carried himself with a fiery grace that was iced by a brash eloquence. By now you’ve read in many ways about the way he transcended generations. It makes you wonder how many millions of children he guided into their teens around the world as Godfather to urban streets.
Ali built legacies, and was louder than a young Louis Farrakhan, who somehow mumbles in the background with a bullhorn next to the legend of Ali. The 80’s saw a vanquished all-time great who would gradually – and gracefully – start succumbing to Parkinson’s while never truly losing to it. He watched Larry Holmes develop warts while being forced to walk in his shoes.
He watched with saddened eyes, as a dark Mike Tyson stumbled and fell in them. Both were uncomfortable with a spotlight’s glare documenting their every move. They bore the burden of heavyweight champion of the world after Ali, a man whose genius had such a global, charismatic flair – that even Barack Obama will leave the White House still needing at least two tube socks to try to walk in his shoes.
Lennox Lewis and Wladimir Klitschko were never even allowed to try them on, as the media gave up on its search for another Ali and boxing altogether. Both were fine champions in their own right; they just couldn’t capture the world’s imagination because they didn’t have “It”. And because we remember Riddick Bowe tried to act like he had it, we don’t trust Deontay Wilder yet. Ali told us that “Impossible is nothing”. But given [what hasn’t happened] over the last 40 years, it doesn’t seem possible that we’ll ever see anything like him again.
He simply refused to not fight for justice; whether by tormenting Floyd Patterson for not calling him “Ali”, or, by exposing this nation’s bias against him and minorities before a white world court. How remarkable his dominance over the deepest pool in heavyweight history that was the 70’s can never be understated, for we were all robbed of the three critical prime years the government took from us. If only he could Michael J. Fox his way “Back to the Future”.
With those intact, I think he stops Joe Frazier in a faster and more action packed “Fight of The Century” far earlier than March 1971. He still mugs George Foreman in more dominant fashion, and he uses better speed to get clear wins over Ken Norton. Leon Spinks never happens. And maybe, just maybe, we get an Ali from the “Thrilla in Manila” that finds a way to chop down his apprentice Holmes.
He was Michael Jordan and “The Beatles” all at once, with Dr King’s stage and microphone in front of him. Tiger Woods can’t be his caddie, and even the great Jackie Robinson would have to be his bat boy. Ali was bigger than sports and beyond politics, for the public was so enchanted by his running, real-life Broadway show- that we almost forgot his religion.
And Donald Trump wants to close the border on all Muslims.
____________________________________________________
He called himself “The Greatest”, and felt obligated to prove that to you- and to himself, time and time again. His body of work reveals that “The Best Ever” (“TBE”) acronym Floyd Mayweather bestowed upon himself is disturbing. Ali never allowed the global elite to turn him into an instrument against his people. This is exactly what Mayweather became while being used to promote ultra greed and selfishness through the “Money” persona.
Mayweather exists as if an adult adolescent on an allowance by his masters. Ali existed as a man who wouldn’t allow it.
No one can be blamed for not being Ali- that’s not the intent here. But as his voice grew to the faintest whisper, his eyes seemed to quietly scream for another black sports hero who would risk his life for social justice. As many today sing his praises as he now lays in silence, it is important for them to remember today: If Ali gets regarded as yesterday by this generation entirely, then this world is truly doomed tomorrow. His journey of greatness that began as a soldier of Rome, ends with a bow from the Pope and the Vatican.
And so it is as every flag from the United Nations gather from places far and near to pay respects to a life well said and better done, we will truly be able to see what he told us long ago.
He shook up the world.
