Goodbye Muhammad Ali. A Boxing Era Ends.
By Robert Brizel, Head Real Combat Media Boxing Correspondent
Hearing Muhammad Ali, ‘The Greatest,’ passed away from septic shock while hospitalized in Phoenix, Arizona for respiratory problems. The event merits reflective understanding.
Ali waged the fight of his life to keep living on a number of occasions in recent years. This time, Ali finally went down for the final ten count. Some days I yearn for the good old days when Ali knocked them out. Rocky Marciano, Joe Frazier, and Muhammad Ali are gone. Ali’s verbal holographic “I am the greatest of all-time!” was his trademark. His famous face and smile now belong to the American public. Pray for Muhammad Ali and his soul.
For a heavyweight champion who gave so much, Ali grew increasing frail in recent years as he faded. He could no longer float like a butterfly, or sting like a bee. He could no longer condemn the draft, predict the round of his next knockout, or verbally go after Joe Frazier. Smoking Joe, who expressed great concern for Ali’s health situation and needs, is long gone. As the familiar names and faces slowly but surely disappear from the boxing map, boxing’s favorite son realized his own mortality. Ali knew he was human.
As frail as he later looked, Muhammad Ali remained an invincible legend. With the glow of his smile, the gift of gab with an irresistible charm, and the religion of Islam to justify his mentality, Muhammad Ali is a cultural icon who represents counter culture. He changed his name from Cassius Clay (which he regarded as a slavery marker) to Muhammad Ali, a loud mouth bragging Muslim who would not serve his country the United States at war.
When Ali lost his license to fight, his pathway of appeal to the United States Supreme Court to regain his boxing license had a curious bend. Did all Americans hate him for his anti-war views? Was Ali for real when he condemned the Vietnam War? When he won the heavyweight championship for the third time, and tried to win it a fourth time, was it ego, was it his inability to accept the end of his mysterious road to public recognition, or merely the ability to push his career beyond the normal boundaries of athletic excellence?
It is too late to get Muhammad Ali’s autograph. It is too late to photograph his eyes without sunglasses. It is too late to capture his walk with a swagger of defiance. ‘The Louisville Lip’ provided neither a farewell poem nor a statement of feedback to justify his contempt for the way things are, were, or should be. Ali lived his final days in a shell, straight from the past, not doing very well, fighting to breathe his remaining breaths, fighting for life within his own constructed universe. No longer fighting others, fighting his own fight all alone in a quiet light. Perhaps Ali was able to best understand his predicament in later years by himself. Nobody knows. It’s too late to rewrite his history-we can only try to understand it.
Muhammad Ali became an international ambassador, for himself, his beliefs, his country, his persona, for his caring of others, to bring peace with a smile to anybody who would listen. Wherever and whenever he traveled around the globe, he was greeted warmly as an international ambassador of peace and love by all, not for his noteworthy boxing career.
The end arrived, and goes the song ‘My Way’, Muhammad Ali reached the final curtain. Ali was a mute soldier of humility in his later years, beloved by all. Pray for him. Do not contemplate who he was, his personal relationships, or why his life happened as it did. The why has only one answer: Ali was, is, and will always be Ali. He existed-and still exists-for the individualistic freedom of speech, freedom of expression, freedom of religion, freedom to avoid the draft and a war he did not agree with, and the freedom to be who you want to be. There is a lot about Muhammad Ali we do not know, and may never knew. All of his children and grandchildren were at his bedside before Ali passed. Their ability to fully understand their father’s and grandfather’s life may be just as complex as the mainstream.
Even without the likes of Howard Cosell, Bundini Brown and Angelo Dundee, Muhammad Ali is still ‘the man’. He put the sport of modern boxing back on the map. ‘The Greatest’ evolved into a silent version of what we once called great, a figure from boxing past whom boxing historians will continue to evaluate for the meaning of his legacy, a Jack Johnson or Jack Dempsey, a legendary name. Ali’s last fight to live was a sad fight, but all good things must go. His legacy must now be evaluated in the context of the time period he lived in.
The need to understand his life is not one which can be defined by words alone. Ali could not pen his story. His image and life story serve to remind us of who we are, why some people are individualists with a sense of purpose unlike others, and why life has to have a purpose which transcends time and time, which wait for no man. And now, Ali is free…..
Float Like A Butterfly, Sting Like A Bee, Be Yourself, It Sets You Free.
Be Like Others, or Be Like Me. Great is a Word You Have to Experience to See.
To Be or Not to Be, To Stay Sane in a Conforming World While Going Against the Grain.
To Be a Poet Defining Life & Time. To Age Like a Glass of Old Fine Wine. My Soul is Mine!
To Live a Life Standing Tall, Remaining Silent, Yet Be Above It All. The Greatest Was and is
Just a Word, a Bird Rarely Seen and Rarely Heard. Like a Leaf Growing From a Tall Oak
Tree, Which Must Fall, and Become Free, Such Was the Indelible Life of Muhammad Ali.
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