The Greatest

by Walter Dean Myers

  They had also seen Muhammad Ali take more punishment than ever before. His speed was no longer as reliable as it had been. Ali, sitting dejectedly in the locker room, his jaw swollen from the impact of Frazier’s blow, seemed suddenly mortal.

  If the sportswriters who had urged Frazier to slaughter Ali thought that the defeat had put an end to his popularity, they were wrong. Ali came out of the fight with more fans than ever. The glee that some sportswriters displayed in their dispatches following the fight served only to strengthen the resolve of Ali’s fans, especially young people throughout the world, to continue supporting him. Muhammad Ali, labeled by some the champion of the Black Muslims, was still the people’s champion.

  Ali had lost to Joe Frazier, but, to many, he was still champion. For young people he was the voice that spoke against Vietnam when thousands of their brothers were dying in a war that few understood. He was the voice of youth as no other boxer had ever been — brash, outspoken, courageous. Ali, even into his thirties, looked younger than other fighters. Fighters often size each other up, trying to read beyond the physical bulk of other men, trying to see what kind of heart is beating beneath the muscled chest. Ali, with his young face and expressive eyes, had the kind of looks with which even the mildest man could identify.

  But while many whites embraced Ali as a man of his times, both entertaining and symbolic of the growing importance of youth to America, to blacks he was special for deeper reasons. If black was truly beautiful, it was Muhammad Ali, in his form and in his style, who personified that beauty. If blacks were tired of taking the backseat, Ali was the one showing them the way to the front seat. Ali was turning young black America away from begging for their rights, and enduring the insults of those hostile to equal rights, to a bold new position that depended more on the inner strengths of the black community.

  Joe Frazier, on the other hand, was like the good father in so many black families. He did his job well and with dignity. He took care of business. But Smokin’ Joe, like so many black men before him, seemed restricted in his scope and his promise. He was understood and respected in the black community, but was not the model young people wished to copy.

  Ali’s assertiveness, his ability to confront authority as few blacks had ever publicly done, was what young African Americans wanted to emulate. His confidence in his abilities was a goal that had eluded black youth. But he had lost against Joe Frazier, and that defeat was a loss for the Nation of Islam as well as for the fighter from Louisville.

  It was 1971, and both Malcolm X and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., had been assassinated, and there was confusion as to just how the civil rights movement would proceed. Richard Nixon was president, and the movement seemed stalled. The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, or NAACP, was less than active, and Elijah Muhammad, now in his seventies, was no longer the dynamic leader he had been. The deaths of Malcolm X and King had also discouraged a lot of black people. Both assassinations still had unresolved questions that indicated black leadership could easily be pushed aside. Ali had not been a leader of the black community, but he was a strong and effervescent personality around which young people could rally.

  The question was, would Muhammad Ali ever be the champion again? Red Smith, one of the nation’s most respected sportswriters and a vehement Ali detractor, predicted that if Ali fought Frazier a dozen times, he would lose a dozen times.

  Ali had to accept what all fighters eventually have to deal with — the idea that being beaten was possible. He realized two things in the decisive loss to Frazier: The speed he had enjoyed before his layoff had lessened; and there would always be strong young fighters, fighters with skill and courage, to challenge him.

  His detractors gloated at his loss. Joe Frazier was invited to speak before the South Carolina legislature, not for his win over Muhammad Ali, a fellow fighter, but for his win over Muhammad Ali, the fighter who dared the world to deal with his blackness.

  Ali had always been close to his mother, and his brother was perhaps his best friend in the world. After his loss to Frazier he found himself trying to cheer up his mother and having quiet talks with his younger brother who looked up to him so much. There was always a distance between Ali and his father, and few words were passed between them after the Frazier fight.

  Ali respected Frazier’s ability and began to think about a comeback. He knew the young Ali would not have been hit nearly as often as he had been in the loss to Frazier. If fighting was a matter of imposing one style over the other, could changing his style help him prevail against the young, up-and-coming fighters?

  Ali’s legal status, the most important fight of his life, was resolved on June 28, 1971. On that day the Supreme Court of the United States unanimously reversed Ali’s conviction on refusing induction. The Court found that, in refusing Ali’s petition for conscientious objector status, the draft board had failed to specify which of its conditions the fighter had failed to meet. Since the government had conceded in its argument before the Supreme Court that Ali had met two of the tests — that his opposition was based on his religious training as a Muslim and that he was sincere in his beliefs — a denial that could have been based on either of these two would have been wrong. By using the technical flaw in the draft board’s decision rather than the parameters of the status itself, the Court allowed the conviction to be overturned without allowing a blanket ruling which would have made all members of the Nation of Islam eligible for CO status. Ali, now approaching his thirtieth birthday and past his physical prime, began the climb back to the championship.

  Ali’s first fight after Frazier was against Jimmy Ellis, his friend and sparring partner from Louisville. They had fought together since they were kids — there was nothing Ali could do that Ellis did not know. Ellis was a good boxer with a strong left jab. What he feared about Ali was a right hand over that jab. They fought a number of fairly even rounds until Ali, anticipating the jab, timed it perfectly and countered with the right hand that Ellis knew would come. Ali had won. The fight was stopped in the twelfth round on a technical knockout.

  The next fight was held in Houston, Texas, against Buster Mathis. Mathis had beaten Joe Frazier in the Olympic trials but injured himself shortly before he was to participate in the 1964 Games. He was the heaviest of the heavyweights, with bulk that placed between 260 and 300 pounds on his six foot, three inch frame. Mathis had good foot and hand speed but was an average puncher. He was also not dedicated to a training regime, which was evident in his inconsistent performances. Ali fought Mathis in November 1971. The sluggish Mathis was an easy target, and Ali took an easy decision. However, the same sportswriters who had lambasted Ali for beating Ernie Terrell without mercy in 1967, now chided him for going light on Mathis. Ali knew that his performances in the ring, no matter how good they were, would not please his enemies.

  Boxing fans around the world were eager to see Ali and offered better purses than were available at home. Ali fought Mac Foster in Tokyo in April 1972, winning by a lackluster decision in fifteen rounds.

  On the first day of May, exactly a month after the Foster fight, Ali fought a twelve-rounder with George Chuvalo in Vancouver, British Columbia. He won this fight by decision, and there was more talk that he had lost the fire necessary to regain his top form. But Ali had, at this time, fought 108 amateur fights and 37 professional fights. He had been in the professional fight game for almost twelve years, and even his magnificent body could not perform as it once had.

  In June 1972, he fought a rematch with Jerry Quarry, this time stopping Quarry in seven rounds. Less than a month later he faced Al “Blue” Lewis in Dublin, Ireland. An easy win was predicted, and Ali fulfilled it, winning on a technical knockout in eleven rounds.

  There were two more fights for Ali in 1972, each of them significant in their own way. The first was yet another fight against Floyd Patterson. Nobody expected Patterson to win. The fight, however, was significant for Patterson and, in a way, for Joe Frazier as well. Dur
ing his usual pre-fight boasting, Ali once again denigrated Patterson, the man who once claimed he wanted to “destroy” Ali because of his ties to the Nation of Islam. In a long article written by Milton Gross and published in Sports Illustrated, Patterson was quoted as having said that Ali was a disgrace to boxing and to his race. Ali’s subsequent open humiliation of Patterson was a violation of the unwritten rule of the fight game — that fighters show at least public respect for other professional fighters. In the macho world of boxing, honor was everything and Ali took away that honor from Patterson, beating him convincingly in seven rounds. It was true that many of the black fighters Ali faced had joined the chorus of white sportswriters who had put Ali down when he joined the Nation of Islam and refused to serve in the army. The articles they allowed to be printed in their names, and the statements they made against Ali destroyed any remnant of respect he might have had for them. Ali was a political man, and his political stance was largely based on the history of the black man in America.

  Prior image: Ali vs. Floyd Patterson, September 20, 1972.

  * * *

  The fight with Bob Foster on November 21, 1972, was an important chapter in Ali’s comeback. Foster was a light heavyweight who had put on enough pounds to qualify as a heavyweight. As a light heavyweight he had been fast and had a good punch. Foster’s handlers thought that Ali might have deteriorated enough for Foster to win. Ali won the fight on a knockout in the eighth round, but not before Foster had inflicted enough damage on Ali to claim that the fight had been close up to the knockout. The reaction of boxing insiders was unanimous: Ali’s days of being a top contender were numbered. At thirty, Ali could not survive the ring wars for very long.

  If 1972 was a lackluster year for Ali, 1973 was a disaster. He fought Joe Bugner on February 14 in Las Vegas. The most notable event of the fight was Ali’s new robe, a gift from Elvis Presley, upon which was emblazoned PEOPLE’S CHAMPION.

  Then came the fight against Ken Norton on March 31 in San Diego. Norton, a former sparring partner of Ali’s, was given little chance. A plodding, heavily muscled man, he had the kind of defensive style that always bothered Ali. In the second round, Ali, in typical fashion, leaned back from a punch. Norton’s follow-up punch landed hard on Ali’s jaw, breaking the bone. At first his cornermen didn’t realize the extent of his injury. Ali didn’t want the fight stopped. The pain was agonizing, and the fight was scheduled for twelve long rounds.

  The Norton fight marked another display of Muhammad Ali’s tremendous courage. It took courage just to walk into a ring knowing that someone was waiting to hurt him, waiting to beat him senseless. It took courage for Ali to face Sonny Liston as a twenty-two-year-old, and to announce after the fight that he had joined the Nation of Islam with their separatist policies.

  When he refused induction into the armed forces, he knew he might very well go to prison. It didn’t make any difference what the rules were. He was a black man standing up to the authorities. Now, with his skills clearly failing him, it took courage to not fold against Norton.

  When the final round started, one judge had Ali ahead by two points, another had Norton ahead by a point, and the third had the fight even. Norton dominated the final round against a tired and hurt Ali, and was declared the winner. After the fight, Ali was taken to the hospital, where he underwent ninety minutes of surgery to repair the jaw that had been broken clean through.

  Sportswriters for the New York Post celebrated the victory. At last Ali was getting beaten. Even though he was considered past his prime, it still made some people feel good to see him lose.

  Ali couldn’t fight again until September. He was matched again with Norton. The fight was as close as it had been the first time around, but Ali had come into the bout in much better physical condition, and was able to rally to beat Norton in the twelfth round.

  A month later Ali’s fight year ended with an easy win over Rudi Lubbers in Jakarta, Indonesia.

  Ali forged on with his comeback against the backdrop of three major events in 1973. One was the cease-fire in Vietnam. The war had been an unbelievable drain on American resources, and the reasons for the war seemed more and more distant and unclear. America, the strongest nation on the earth, had completely lost its direction. The cease-fire sought to get American troops out of Vietnam with dignity. The North Vietnamese understood that America was tired of the war, that they were the ones winning the war of attrition, not the larger nation. The cease-fire negotiations were not successful, and the war began anew.

  The second major event was the Watergate scandal. For the first time in modern history a president of the United States was being investigated by the American judicial system. During 1973, White House aides resigned, the attorney general was indicted, and there was talk of impeaching President Richard Nixon.

  A third event, far less important to those outside the boxing world, was the two-round knockout of Joe Frazier by George Foreman on January 22 in Kingston, Jamaica.

  In other times in the long history of boxing, the natural consequence of Frazier’s loss of the championship would have been a rematch between Frazier and Foreman. But past his prime or not, it was Ali who was still the driving force in boxing. Ali had expanded his own visibility far beyond that of any other fighter who had ever lived. He had made albums, he had been in a play on Broadway (Big Time Buck White), in a comic book (Muhammad Ali vs. Superman), and had even had his image on a shoe polish container. He had appeared hundreds of times on television and had been interviewed in dozens of magazines. He had spoken on college campuses throughout the country, and had been seen with leaders from around the world. Foreman, the new champion, was best known for his 1968 Olympic victory. Another Ali-Frazier fight was scheduled for New York’s Madison Square Garden on January 28, 1974.

  Had Joe Frazier been so badly beaten in the first match against Ali that he did not want a rematch? On both sides of the Atlantic rumors circulated about Frazier’s deteriorating physical condition. He had fought and defeated Muhammad Ali in March 1971, and did not fight the rest of the year while Ali fought three times. In 1972, Frazier took on Terry Daniels in New Orleans, and later, in Omaha, Nebraska, Ron Stander. Neither of these fighters were of the first rank and neither offered Smokin’ Joe anywhere near the kind of money he would make in a match with Ali.

  There were rumors of contract negotiations breaking down, of Joe not wanting to give Ali another chance at the championship, and of delaying the fight for tax reasons. None of these held water. In reality, both fighters were past their physical prime. The punishing physical wear and tear of professional boxing was appalling, and both fighters were showing the unmistakable signs of damage.

  Black men suffer from hypertension, or high blood pressure, more than any other people in the world. Within the African-American community it is one of the leading causes of death of men over thirty. Joe Frazier had a serious problem with hypertension. His blood pressure had been high enough to threaten disqualification.

  Frazier’s two-week stay in the hospital after the Ali fight was due largely to his hypertension, and not solely to the injuries he received during the fight. His high blood pressure stemmed not simply from the bout itself, but from the weeks and months of stress during training. The side-effects of medications for high blood pressure include weakness, and sometimes even dizziness when the body changes position rapidly. Frazier knew that another bout with Muhammad Ali would compel him to train hard enough to possibly do permanent damage to his blood vessels.

  The fight against George Foreman on January 22, 1973, in Kingston, Jamaica, was a disaster for Frazier. Before the fight he was scarcely recognized as the world’s heavyweight champion — that title was still largely associated with Muhammad Ali.

  The two-round knockout at the hands of George Foreman stunned the boxing world. Foreman had not been an impressive fighter prior to the Frazier fight. In 1968 he had won the Olympic gold medal in Mexico City, standing out by waving a small American flag in contrast to other blac
k athletes raising black-gloved hands in protest against what they felt to be the racism in their own country. His match with Frazier was turning out to be just another payday until one of his thunderous right hands knocked Smokin’ Joe loose from the title.

  * * *

  After being defeated by Foreman, Frazier went a full twelve rounds with Joe Bugner in London in July 1973. The rematch with Ali was arranged for the last Monday in January 1974. Monday night fights insured a large television audience. Theaters were running the fight closed-circuit, and sponsors were lining up with fists full of dollars.

  The Ali-Frazier rematch was the fight sports fans wanted to see. There was no question that Frazier intensely disliked Ali, so there would be an air of vengeance about the match. Frazier had lost to Foreman, but by then Ali had shown signs of real slippage, losing to Norton once and barely beating him the second time.

  At weigh-in, the two fighters were within a pound of each other, with Frazier, at 214, only a pound lighter than the taller Ali. Frazier had been six pounds lighter in their first match.

  When fighters reach championship level they are excellent tacticians. They know what the man facing them is going to do, what his capabilities are, and they have strategies for putting up a good defense. The problem comes when a fighter is forced into a defense that prevents him from carrying out his offense. Just as Frazier had known that Ali would have to back up against him and use his hand speed to counterattack, Ali knew that Frazier would have to keep coming in and taking punches in order to begin his attack.

  The fight started as predicted, with Ali moving backward, jabbing at the bobbing head before him, and tying Frazier up when Frazier moved inside Ali’s longer reach. Frazier, for his part, moved from side to side, and threw bombs toward Ali’s body. As the fight progressed there were subtle differences from the first encounter between the two men. Ali relied more on his jab, often landing high on Frazier’s forehead, and rested less on the ropes. Frazier punished Ali’s body, as he said he would, and threw fewer heavy punches toward Ali’s head. In the late rounds, when Smokin’ Joe had come on in so many fights, a tired Frazier began punching from long range, hoping to get lucky. Ali was the clear winner, though neither fighter was hurt as badly as in the first fight. But it was obvious that each fighter was older.