Times change.
THE ATHLETE
OF THE CENTURY
1999
As 1999 moves toward its long-awaited close, there have been numerous attempts to designate “The Athlete of the Century.” Whoever is accorded the honor will doubtless also be recognized as “Athlete of the Millennium.”
The consensus list for number one has boiled down to three finalists: Babe Ruth, Muhammad Ali, and Michael Jordan. There’s no right or wrong answer; just points of view.
It’s hard to imagine anyone being better in a sport than Michael Jordan was in basketball. His exploits are still fresh in the mind, so suffice it to say that the Chicago Bulls won six world championships during his reign and Jordan was named the series’ Most Valuable Player on all six occasions. He led the NBA in scoring ten times, has the highest career scoring average in league history, and was one of the best defensive players ever.
Babe Ruth had an unparalleled genius for the peculiarities of baseball. In 1919, the American League record for home runs in a season was twelve. Ruth hit 29 homers that year and 54 the year after. In 1927, the year Ruth hit 60 home runs, no other team in the American League had as many. Indeed, in all of major league baseball, there were only 922 home runs hit that year. In other words, Babe Ruth hit 6.5% of all the home runs hit in the entire season.
Ruth’s lifetime batting average was .342. Two-thirds of a century after his career ended, he stands second in RBIs, second in runs scored, and second in home runs. And these marks were established despite the fact that Ruth was a pitcher during the first five years of his career. In 1916, at age 21, he pitched nine shutouts en route to a 23 and 12 record and led the league with an earned run average of 1.75. From 1915 through 1919, he won 94 games, lost only 46, and compiled an earned-run average of 2.28. In other words, if Mark McGwire pitched 29-2/3 consecutive scoreless innings in the World Series (which Ruth once did; a record that stood for 43 years), you’d have a phenomenon approaching The Babe. And one thing more. Ruth was a winner. He was with the Boston Red Sox for five full seasons, and they won the World Series in three of them. Then he was traded to the Yankees, who had never won a World Series, and the Yankee dynasty began.
As for Ali, a strong argument can be made that he was the greatest fighter of all time. His lifetime record of 56 wins and 5 losses has been matched by others. But no heavyweight ever had the inquisitors that Ali had—George Foreman, Sonny Liston twice, and Joe Frazier three times. Ali in his prime was the most beautiful fighting machine ever assembled. Pound-for-pound, Sugar Ray Robinson might have been better. But that’s like saying, if Jerry West had been six-foot-six, he would have been just as good as Jordan. You are what you are.
Ali fought the way Michael Jordan played basketball. Michael Jordan played basketball the way Ali fought. Unfortunately, Jordan didn’t play baseball the way Ruth did. But then again, I doubt that Ruth would have been much of a basketball player. However, The Babe was known to punch out people rather effectively as a young man.
Thus, looking at Michael Jordan, Babe Ruth, and Muhammad Ali from a purely athletic point of view, it’s Jordan (three points for first place), Ruth (two points for second place), and Ali (one point for third place) in that order.
But is pure athletic ability the standard? If pure athleticism is the only test, men like Jim Thorpe, Jim Brown, and Carl Lewis should also be finalists in the competition for “Athlete of the Century.” The fact that they aren’t stands testament to the view that something more than achievement on the playing field must be measured; that social impact is also relevant. That’s a bit like saying maybe Ronald Reagan should be considered the greatest actor of the twentieth century because of his impact on society. But here goes.
Ruth, Ali, and Jordan reflected the eras in which they were at their respective athletic peaks. Ruth personified “The Roaring Twenties.” Ali was at the heart of the social and political turmoil of the 1960s. Michael Jordan speaks to “The Nineties” with its booming stock market, heightened commercialism, and athletes as computer-action-game heroes.
Jordan hasn’t changed society. Babe Ruth brought sports into the mainstream of American culture and earned adulation unmatched in his time. Nor was The Babe’s impact confined to the United States. During World War II, long after his playing days were over, Japanese soldiers sought to insult their American counterparts by shouting “to hell with Babe Ruth” at Guadalcanal. Meanwhile, Ali (to use one of his favorite phrases) “shook up the world” and served as an inspiration and beacon of hope, not just in the United States, but for oppressed people around the globe.
One can argue that Jack Johnson, Joe Louis, and Jackie Robinson all had a greater societal impact than Ali. Arthur Ashe once opined, “Within the United States, Jack Johnson had a larger impact than Ali because he was the first. Nothing that any African-American had done up until that time had the same impact as Jack Johnson’s fight against James Jeffries.”
Joe Louis’s hold on the American psyche was so great that the last words spoken by a young man choking to death in the gas chamber were, “Save me, Joe Louis.” When The Brown Bomber knocked out Max Schmeling at Yankee Stadium in 1938 in a bout that was considered an allegory of good versus evil, it was the first time that most people had heard a black man referred to simply as “The American.”
Meanwhile, Jackie Robinson opened doors for an entire generation of Americans. If there had never been a Jackie Robinson, baseball would have become integrated; and eventually, other sports would have followed. But that’s like saying, if there had been no Michelangelo, someone else would have painted the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.
Still, Ali’s reach, more than that of any of his competitors, was worldwide. So for impact on society, it’s Ali (three points), Ruth (two points), and Jordan (one point). That means there’s a four-four-four tie, and we go to tie-breakers.
Babe Ruth seemed larger than life. So do Muhammad Ali and Michael Jordan. Ruth and Ali had much-publicized personal weaknesses. Jordan has flaws although they’re less well-known. All three men have been idolized. Ali has been loved. It would be presumptuous to choose among them as human beings.
So where do we go from here?
Sixty-four years after Babe Ruth hit his last home run, a half-century after his death, men like Mark McGwire still compete against him. Without Ruth ever having been on SportsCenter or HBO, he is still in the hearts of most sports fans. Ali might enjoy that type of recognition fifty years from now. It’s less likely that Michael Jordan will.
That brings us down to Babe Ruth and Muhammad Ali.
And the envelope, please . . . .
WHY MUHAMMAD ALI
WENT TO IRAQ
1990
Last month [November 1990] in Baghdad, Muhammad Ali embraced Saddam Hussein and kissed him on the cheek. The moment was televised throughout the world and troubled many people. Ali isn’t a diplomat. His actions aren’t always wise. There was danger in the possibility that a visit from history’s best-known fistic gladiator would feed Hussein’s ego and stiffen his resolve. Regardless of what else happened, the meeting would be used for propaganda purposes in the third world where Ali is particularly loved.
Some of Ali’s closest friends were also concerned that, in going to Iraq, he was being used for personal gain by one or more members of his entourage. Several of his associates, past and present, are the subject of a federal inquiry into alleged financial irregularities. While Ali was in Iraq, one of his attorneys was indicted on charges of conspiracy and tax fraud. And among those who accompanied Ali to Baghdad was Arthur Morrison, a self-described businessman who has traversed the United States, leaving a trail of arrest warrants behind.
As Ali’s trip progressed, it became increasingly difficult for the world outside to distinguish between what he really said and what was reported by the Iraqi News Agency. There were self-appointed spokesmen purporting to act on “hand signals” from the former champion. Others said, falsely, that Ali was unable to speak. But n
one of this is new to Ali. He has often dealt with con men and crazies. The sideshow that accompanied him on his recent journey shouldn’t be allowed to overshadow why Ali went to Iraq. It was an act of love in quest of peace. He hoped that his presence would promote dialogue and forestall war.
I’ve spent the past two years researching and writing about Muhammad Ali. For much of that time, I’ve lived with him, traveled with him and interviewed hundreds of his family members, associates and friends. I know him well. At least, I think I do. And one thing is certain. Even though Muhammad’s voice is not as clear as it used to be, his mind is alert and his heart is pure.
I’ve seen Ali get on a plane and fly to India because the children in an orphanage wanted to meet him. I’ve sat in his living room as he talked with sadness of hatred and racism in all of their virulent forms. He’s a gentle man who will do almost anything to avoid hurting another person.
Ali was in Louisville visiting his mother who had suffered a stroke when he was asked to go to Iraq. He is on medication for Parkinson’s syndrome. When he left that afternoon, he had enough medication with him to last for five days; yet he stayed in Iraq for two weeks. He quite literally endangered his health because he believed that what he was doing was right.
That has been a constant theme throughout Ali’s life. He has always taken risks to uphold his principles. During the 1960’s, he was stripped of his title and precluded from fighting for three-and-a-half years because he acted upon his beliefs and refused induction into the United States Army during the height of the war in Vietnam. He now believes that all war is wrong. Ali is, and since Vietnam has been, a true conscientious objector.
Ali knows what many of us sometimes seem to forget; that people are killed in wars. Every life is precious to him. He understands that each of us has only one life to live. Many Americans now favor war with Iraq, although I’m not sure how many would feel that way if they personally had to fight. Ali, plainly and simply, values every other person’s life as dearly as his own, regardless of nationality, religion, or race. He is a man who finds it impossible to go hunting, let alone tolerate the horrors of war.
It may be that war with Iraq will become inevitable. If so, it will be fought. But that shouldn’t cause us to lose sight of what Muhammad Ali tried to accomplish last month. Any war is a human tragedy and we should always be thankful for the peacemakers among us. That’s not a bad message for this holiday season or any other time of year. After all, it’s not how loudly Ali speaks but what he says and does that counts.
THE OLYMPIC FLAME
1993
The Atlanta Olympics are three years in the future, but elaborate groundwork has already been laid. Budweiser has agreed to become a national sponsor for a sum that might otherwise be used to retire the national debt. On-site construction has begun and television planning is underway. Eventually, the Olympic torch will be transported to the United States. The triumphal procession that follows will lead to the highlight of the games’ opening ceremonies—lighting the Olympic flame.
Traditionally, someone from the host country ignites the flame. At the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles, Rafer Johnson received the torch and carried it up the Coliseum steps to rekindle the world’s most celebrated fire. Last year in Barcelona, a Spanish archer shot an arrow into a caldron, thereby reawakening the flame. The eyes of the world are always on this moment. One wonders who will be chosen to fulfill the honor in Atlanta.
The view here is that the choice is obvious. One man embodies the Olympic spirit to perfection. He’s a true American in every sense of the word and the foremost citizen of the world. At age eighteen, he won a gold medal in Rome fighting under the name “Cassius Clay.” Since then, he has traversed the globe, spreading joy wherever he goes. Atlanta has special meaning for him. It was there, after three years of exile from boxing, that he returned to face Jerry Quarry in the ring. He loves the spotlight, and the spotlight loves him. Indeed, one can almost hear him saying, “When I carry that Olympic torch, every person in the world will be watching. Babies in their mother’s tummies will be kicking and hollering for the TV to be turned on. It will be bigger than Michael Jackson. Bigger than Elvis. Bigger than The Pyramids. Bigger than me fighting Sonny Liston, George Foreman, and Joe Frazier all at the same time. Bigger than the Olympics—”
Wait a minute, Muhammad. This is the Olympics.
Anyway, you get the point. So I have a simple proposal to make. I’d like the International Olympic Committee to announce that, as its gift to the world, Muhammad Ali has been chosen to light the Olympic flame in Atlanta. Muhammad has already given us one memorable Olympic moment as Cassius Clay. Now let him share another with the world as Muhammad Ali. That way, the 26th Olympiad will truly be “the greatest.”
ALI AS DIPLOMAT:
“NO! NO! NO! DON’T!”
2001
In 1980 in response to the Soviet Union’s invasion of Afghanistan, the Carter Administration sought to organize a boycott of the Moscow Olympics. As part of that effort, it sent Muhammad Ali to five African nations to gather support for America’s position.
Ali’s trip was a disaster. Time magazine later called it, “The most bizarre diplomatic mission in recent U. S. history.” Some African officials viewed Ali’s presence as a racial insult. “Would the United States send Chris Evert to negotiate with London?” one Tanzanian diplomat demanded. Ali himself seemed confused regarding the facts underlying his role and was unable to explain why African nations should boycott the Moscow Olympics when, four years earlier, the United States had refused to join twenty-nine African countries in boycotting the Montreal Olympics over South Africa’s place in the sporting world.
“Maybe I’m being used to do something that ain’t right,” Ali conceded at one point. In Kenya, he announced that Jimmy Carter had put him “on the spot” and sent him “around the world to take the whupping over American policies” and said that, if he’d known the “whole history of America and South Africa,” he “probably wouldn’t have made the trip.”
That bit of history is relevant now because Jack Valenti (president of the Motion Picture Association of America) has unveiled tentative plans for a one-minute public service announcement featuring Ali that will be broadcast throughout the Muslim world. The thrust of the message is that America’s war on terrorism is not a war against Islam. The public service spot would be prepared by Hollywood 9/11—a group that was formed after movie industry executives met on November 11th with Karl Rove (a senior political advisor to George Bush). In Valenti’s words, Ali would be held out as “the spokesman for Muslims in America.”
The proposed public service announcement might be good publicity for the movie industry, but it’s dangerous politics.
Ali is universally respected and loved, but he isn’t a diplomat. He doesn’t understand the complexities of geopolitics. His heart is pure, but his judgments and actions are at times unwise. An example of this occurred on December 19, 2001, at a fundraising event for the proposed Muhammad Ali Center in Louisville. The center is intended to be an educational facility designed to promote tolerance and understanding among all people. At the fundraiser, Ali rose to tell several jokes.
“No! No! No! Don’t,” his wife Lonnie cried.
Despite her plea, Ali proceeded. “What’s the difference between a Jew and a canoe?’’ he asked. Then he supplied the answer: “A canoe tips.’’ That was followed by, “A black, a Puerto Rican, and a Mexican are in a car. Who’s driving?’’ The answer? ‘’The police.’’
Afterward, Sue Carls (a spokesperson for the Ali Center) sought to minimize the damage, explaining, “These are not new jokes. Muhammad tells them all the time because he likes to make people laugh and he shocks people to make a point.’’ Two days later, Lonnie Ali added, “Even the Greatest can tell bad jokes.’’
The problem is, this is a situation where misjudgments and bad jokes can cost lives.
Ali is not a bigot. He tells far more “nigger” jokes than jokes abo
ut Hispanics and Jews. But Ali sometimes speaks and acts without considering the implications of his words and conduct. And he can be swayed by rhetoric; particularly when the speaker is a Muslim cleric with a following in some portion of the world.
What happens if, six months from now, Ali makes an intemperate statement about Israel? What happens if Ali calls for a halt to all American military action against terrorism in the heartfelt belief that a halt will save innocent lives? Will he then still be “the spokesman for Muslims in America”?
Muhammad Ali leads best when he leads by example and by broad statements in support of tolerance and understanding among all people. To ask more of him in the current incendiary situation is looking for trouble.
GHOSTS OF MANILA
2001
Albert Einstein once remarked, “Nature, to be sure, distributes her gifts unevenly among her children. But it strikes me as unfair, and even in bad taste, to select a few of them for boundless admiration, attributing superhuman powers of mind and character to them.”
But society did just that with Muhammad Ali. Few people have ever received accolades equal to those that have been showered upon him. Indeed, Wilfred Sheed, who himself was skeptical of Ali’s merit as a social figure, once observed that boxing’s eras would be forever known as B.C. (before Clay) and A.D. (Ali Domini).
Enter Mark Kram. Kram is a very good writer. How else can one describe a man who refers to Chuck Wepner as having a face that looks as though it has been “embroidered by a tipsy church lady,” and likens Joe Frazier’s visage after Ali-Frazier I to “a frieze of a lab experiment that was a disaster.”
Kram covered boxing for Sports Illustrated for eleven years. Now, a quarter-century later, he has written Ghosts of Manila: The Fateful Blood Feud Between Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier. The book, in the first instance, is the story of two men whose rivalry was ugly, glorious, brutal, and enthralling. And secondarily, Kram declares, “This book is intended to be a corrective to the years of stenography that have produced the Ali legend. Cheap myth coruscates the man. The wire scheme for his sculpture is too big.”
Muhammad Ali: A Tribute to the Greatest Page 4
