Joe Frazier was one of two reasons why I fell in love with boxing. The other reason was a man named Muhammad Ali. In my introduction to sweet science I watched them on a black and white TV set in my grandma?s house in former Soviet Union, go toe to toe for fourteen breathtaking rounds in a scorching heat in ?The Thriller in Manila?. This was 1975 and I was thirteen years old. By this time there was no love loss between Ali and Frazier. Even though Ali did most of the talking, Smokin? Joe had something to say about this encounter. ?We’re in Manila. Come on, gorilla; this is a thriller,? Frazier said: ?I want to hurt him. If I knock him down, I’ll stand back; give him a chance to breathe. It’s his heart I want.?
I could not believe it but I was witnessing two warriors going beyond any imaginable limits of human endurance and courage. No commentaries were necessary. Both fighters came as close to death as a human being can get on that unforgettable night. Joe Frazier never forgave his trainer, legendary Eddie Futch for stopping that fight, but Futch has probably saved his life.
