You don’t know intimidation as a sports writer until you’re staring at a blinking cursor on a blank page, tasked with trying to encapsulate the life and impact of Muhammad Ali.
A dozen paragraphs, several hundred words, a few thousands words; none of it could possibly begin to scratch the surface of what he meant to the planet. By now you’ve heard all the tributes and witness the outpouring of affection for the man who was once more polarizing than LeBron and Donald Trump put together. If you Google “Muhammad Ali” today, you’ll find 1,000 video eulogies and think pieces on the man ranging from “Don’t forget he was a great boxer”, to “Don’t forget his social impact”, and of course, “White America has misrepresented what Ali was all about“. There were a few of those, which feels necessary as people like Kentucky Senator and Louisville native Mitch McConnell went on Meet The Press this past weekend and erroneously stated Ali’s hometown of Louisville only truly accepted him because he “moved beyond some of the controversial possessions he took early in life”.
Each of those vantage points possesses its own truth, which speaks to the breadth of Ali. But amazingly, Ali’s impact spanned many facets of race, religion, culture and sports on a global scale, while simultaneously tapping into the interests of hundreds of millions of individuals. Ali graced lives in ways that other global figures wouldn’t; dazzled with his hands, feet and speech in ways other dignitaries couldn’t. He saved his greatest triumphs for when he was an underdog (KO’ing Sonny Liston in 1964 and George Foreman in 1974), yet his rhetoric would indicate he was never in remote proximity of such a term.
Ali meant so much to so many people, it would be unfair and almost irresponsible to attempt to summarize it in this space. The most fitting tribute that can be provided here is dissecting the imprint he left on a personal level. Ali was a prodigy— Michael Jackson of the sweet science. And like Jackson, his flair endeared me to him at a young age.
The power of speech is incredible— Ali’s gift of gab was ahead of its time. His incandescent way with words spawned a generation of boxers who futilely attempted to imitate his charisma and charm. “Prince” Naseem Hamed, Roy Jones, Floyd Mayweather, Adrian Broner— each found themselves impersonating Ali in some way. Beyond boxing, it was Deion Sanders, Charles Barkley and now Bryce Harper who let their outspoken personalities shine concurrently with their prowess on the field.
From my perspective, part of Ali’s contribution was coming along at a time when blackness was still perceived as an albatross in everyday American life (one could easily argue it still is, but I digress). Minstrel shows and blackface were still prevalent as recently as the 1950’s, and the residue of their existence seeped into other cultural aspects as the Civil Rights Movement was in full swing by the mid-1960’s. And there stood Ali, bellowing from the mountaintops about how talented and good-looking he was. It was one thing for blacks to exude confidence amongst themselves, but Ali’s self-worth was never going to be defined by white America or white culture, which made it both permissible and voguish for African-Americans to feel the same. From Dr. J’s fro, to Jordan’s gold chain, to Iverson’s cornrows, to Westbrook’s…outfits, black athletes have taken a certain pride in their appearance and their “swag”. If he didn’t outright create this phenomenon, Muhammad Ali’s hand in its growth certainty cannot be understated— he (along with Nina Simone) basically invented the “young, gifted and black” movement.
His imagination as fluid as his footwork, Ali’s loquacious wordplay would lead him to write rhymes predicting when he would knockout his opponents years before hip-hop as we know it would reach any semblance of mainstream popularity. As hip-hop evolved, so did its braggadocios nature. No other genre’s artists rush to tell you all about how awesome they are faster than rappers. Between the rhymes, the force of personality and the arrogance, Ali’s influence on this culture was also significant.
In the ring, Ali’s size, paired with his elegance and hand speed, allowed him to practically redefine ring generalship. Heavyweight boxing was the focal point of all American professional sports in the 60’s and 70’s, and physically, Ali was Cam Newton in a world of Sam Bradfords. While becoming the only three-time heavyweight champion in history will sit atop his list of life achievements, it was how Muhammad Ali responded to the defeats in his career that resonated with a kid in Cleveland, Ohio who wasn’t even old enough to witness his career as a pugilist.
After losing “The Fight of the Century” to Joe Frazier in March of 1971, Ali avenged the only defeat on his résumé twice, including the epic “Thrilla in Manila”. Ali also avenged losses to Ken Norton and Leon Spinks. His upset victory over Foreman was in many ways a victory over Father Time after having lost three of his prime years for refusing to fight in the Vietnam War. And although he was stripped of his titles and convicted of draft evasion in 1967, it was Ali’s desire to bounce back from this first defeat that set the stage for the brilliant second act to his career. Ali had to take that fight to the U.S. Supreme Court, but the time and energy invested was well worth it, as was Ali clinging to his religious and political ideologies.
Decades later, the rest of the world caught up to Ali’s beliefs. Once again, ahead of his time.
Muhammad Ali was a global ambassador in part because he fought all over the world. Literally, he laced ’em up on in 12 different nations on four continents. His 56-5 career record seems like a mere footnote compared to being presented the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2005. Great athletes come and go, but it must be noted the very convictions that caused him to pitch his Olympic gold medal into the Ohio River because he had received inhumane treatment as a black man in Louisville are what we’re now celebrating in his passing.
Muhammad Ali was all of these things to me and more, which is why he’ll have a permanent place within this website (more on this later). HHSR’s Kenneth Hicks recently described how today’s hip-hop fan appears to have accepted the watered-down version of creativity we’re spoon-fed every time we turn on a radio. We cherish Muhammad Ali because he was an original in every sense of the word.
You can have a nice career following the path of others. You can make a lot of money. You can even be a champion. But under no circumstances can you ever be considered “The Greatest”.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EYoh62jUFpk