by Muhammad Ali
A few days before the fight my sponsoring group and some of the fight promoters called me in for a meeting. Malcolm X and I had been seen all over together, and it was known that my cook was Muslim. People were talking, and Malcolm’s presence in Miami made everyone nervous.
My sponsoring group still had me under contract for two more years and they must have thought that meant they owned me. They told me unless I sent Malcolm and his family home, fired my Muslim cook, and severed all ties with the Nation of Islam, the fight would be canceled and I would never fight again. So I said to hell with the fight and walked out the door. I wouldn’t be who they wanted me to be. I was free to be who I wanted to be.
Later that night I received a phone call. The fight was still on.
I am the
GREATEST!
BEFORE THE FIGHT, I wrote a poem about how I would beat Liston. I knew I wasn’t Superman, and if the fans thought that I could do everything that I said I could, then they were crazier than me.
I AM THE GREATEST
Clay comes out to meet Liston
And Liston starts to retreat
If Liston goes back any further
He’ll end up in a ringside seat
Clay swings with a left
Clay swings with a right
Look at young Cassius
Carry the fight
Liston keeps backing
But there’s not enough room
It’s a matter of time
Before Clay lowers the boom
Now Clay swings with a right
What a beautiful swing
And the punch raises the bear
Clear out of the ring
Liston is still rising
And the ref wears a frown
For he can’t start counting
Till Sonny comes down
Now Sonny disappears from view
The crowd is getting frantic
But our radar stations have picked him up
He’s somewhere over the Atlantic
Who would have thought
When they came to the fight
That they’d witness the launching
Of a human satellite
Yes the crowd did not dream
When they laid down their money
That they would see
A total eclipse of the Sonny.
I am the Greatest!
7th HEAVEN
FROM THE VERY beginning, this had been what I was working toward. All of the training, all of the sacrificing, all the cake and ice cream I had to give up. The golden gloves, Corky Baker, the Olympics, all to prepare me for this moment.
On February 25, 1964, I stepped into the ring with Sonny Liston and won the heavyweight championship of the world in the seventh round. I had just turned twenty-two, and my prediction of becoming the world champion by the age of twenty-one was off by only a few weeks. I knew that I must be the greatest, and I didn’t waste any time telling the world. After all that talking and boasting, I knew that people were waiting to see me get whupped.
But I defied the impossible odds and shook up the world.
After the fight, Howard Cosell climbed into the ring and asked me if Angelo Dundee had given me my fight plan. I told him no, that I knew I had Liston from the first round because Almighty God was with me.
the black superman
A LONG TIME ago I was on a plane flying somewhere, and I wasn’t wearing my seat belt. When the flight attendant asked me to put it on, I told her that Superman didn’t need a seat belt. Then she smiled at me and said,
“Superman doesn’t need a plane either.”
I seldom told people this because they didn’t understand it, but I never really had a fight plan. I have always trusted myself and felt like God was working through me. But sometimes I was so quick that I felt like Superman.
I learned early to feel my way along. I’ve been boxing since I was a kid and I have often relied on my instincts.
the
ANNOUNCEMENT
MALCOLM X WAS standing beside me when I announced to the world that I had become a Muslim. People reacted by saying that I admitted to being a member of the Black Muslims as if I were doing something wrong. The press said that we were Communists, and that we preached hate. The next day at a press conference I told them that the real name of the organization that I belonged to was The Nation of Islam, and that “Black Muslims” was a media phrase.
What mattered to me is that I had made the declaration of faith that all Muslims must make in order to become a Muslim: I declare there is no god except God and I declare the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, is the messenger of God.
A FEW WEEKS after I became champion I learned that Malcolm X strongly disagreed with some fundamental principles that Elijah Muhammad was teaching.
For twelve years Malcolm X had followed Elijah Muhammad and believed everything he taught. Malcolm remained a devout follower of Elijah Muhammad, until the last year of his life when he went on a pilgrimage to Mecca and the Holy Land.
There Malcolm saw people of all colors living together in true brotherhood. There was no segregation. All the people worked together for the common good. He ate from the same plate and drank from the same glass as blond, blue-eyed, white-skinned Muslims. He came to accept that they were all truly brothers.
* * *
Malcolm now questioned the path the Nation of Islam was taking in the United States, and the leadership of Elijah Muhammad. True Islam didn’t teach many of the things Elijah had been teaching.
Malcolm was going to separate from Elijah Muhammad and wanted me to come with him. He said it was important that I take his side so that I could become a messenger myself and tell other young Black people in America what was going on. Malcolm and I were so close and had been through so much, but there were many things for me to consider.
Elijah Muhammad had given me my name, Muhammad Ali. I felt that he had set me free! I was proud of my name and dedicated to the Nation of Islam as Elijah presented it. At that point in my journey, I just wasn’t ready to question his teachings.
I was forced to make a choice when Elijah Muhammad insisted that I break with Malcolm. I was on a tour of Egypt, Nigeria, and Ghana. I saw Malcolm in Ghana where he stopped on his way back to America. He’d just finished a holy journey to Mecca that devout Muslims are required to make once in their lives, and he was wearing the traditional Muslim white robes, further signifying his break with Elijah Muhammad. He walked with a cane that looked like a prophet’s stick and he wore a beard. I thought he’d gone too far.
When he came up to greet me I turned away, making our break public.
* * *
Turning my back on Malcolm was one of the mistakes that I regret most in my life. I wish I’d been able to tell Malcolm I was sorry, that he was right about so many things. But he was killed before I got the chance. He was a visionary—ahead of us all.
Elijah Muhammad had a mission to unite Black people in the spirit of racial pride, and he accomplished much. After Elijah Muhammad’s death, his son, Wallace D. Muhammad, took over the Nation and brought me, along with many of his father’s followers, to mainstream Sunni Islam. Malcolm was the first to discover the truth, that color doesn’t make a man a devil. It is the heart, soul, and mind that define a person.
Malcolm X was a great thinker and an even greater friend. I might never have become a Muslim if it hadn’t been for Malcolm. If I could go back and do it over again, I would never have turned my back on him.
COURAGE
EVERY MAN WANTS to believe in himself. And every man wants to be fearless. We become heroes when we stand up for what we believe in.
Before I won a gold medal at the Olympics, before I became the heavyweight champion of the world, before I stood up to the United States Government for my religious beliefs, before I was named a United Nations Ambassador of Peace, and before I became the most recognized person in the world, I was just a kid from Kentucky who had the faith to believe in himself
and the courage to follow his heart.
THE YEAR WAS 1967. For months I had tried to prepare myself for what would happen if I refused to be inducted into the United States Armed Forces. I could continue my boxing career and remain the heavyweight champion if I went against my religious beliefs. Or, I would face certain backlash from the public and possible prison time and a fine if I stood up for my religious beliefs. That was my choice as I saw it.
The consequences of my decision were even more dire than I thought.
After I received notice that I had been reclassified 1-A, ready for duty in Vietnam, everyone around me advised me to accept induction into the army. This reclassification was very frustrating for me: I was now the heavyweight champion of the world, finally making some real money, and I knew that I wanted to use my championship status to demand respect and equality for all Americans, Black and White.
More important, my religious beliefs were not compatible with the responsibilities and expectations of a soldier in combat. I didn’t agree with the reasons why we were in Vietnam in the first place, but most especially I couldn’t see myself trying to injure or kill people whom I didn’t even know, people who had never done any harm to me or my country. But even the Nation of Islam tried to persuade me to accept induction. I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t believe that was God’s plan for me.
On April 28, 1967, I reported as ordered to the United States Armed Forces Examining and Entrance Station in Houston, Texas. I was very nervous as I approached the building. I knew that everything I had worked for was on the line, and I knew that if I refused induction I was facing possible prison time. I had never been in trouble with the law and the prospect of going to prison was frightening, though I worked hard not to show it to those around me—certainly not in public. A curious thing happened as I waited for my name to be called. I looked at the young man who would call my name, and I saw that he was more nervous than I was. When I looked into his eyes, I realized he was just doing what he had been ordered to do, and that everyone in the room was just doing what he had been ordered to do, whether he believed it was the right thing or not. And suddenly I felt very calm and at peace with what I was about to do. I knew it was the right thing to do, and I knew it was the right thing for me to do. It gave me an overwhelming sense of freedom and certainty.
I refused to step forward. An officer warned me of the consequences of what I was doing, but nothing he could have said would have changed my mind. If I had to go to prison, I would do it, because if I didn’t follow my true beliefs, I would never be free again.
Sometimes I hear myself described as a draft dodger. I did not dodge the draft. I did not run to Canada, and I did not hide in this country. I reported to the army induction center as I had been ordered to do. I asserted my right as a conscientious objector to refuse to be drafted, and I was prepared to go to prison for five years if I had to. I worked within the system.
After refusing induction, I distributed a statement to the press that read in part: “I am proud of the title ‘World Heavyweight Champion’ … The holder of it should at all times have the courage of his convictions and carry out those convictions, not only in the ring but through all phases of life. It is in light of my own personal convictions that I take my stand in rejecting the call to be inducted into the armed services. I do so with full realization of its implications and possible consequences. I have searched my conscience, and find I cannot be true to my belief in my religion by accepting such a call. My decision is a private and individual one. In taking it I am dependent solely upon God as the final judge of these actions brought about by my own conscience. I strongly object to the fact that so many newspapers have given the American public and the world the impression that I have only two alternatives in taking this stand—either I go to jail or go to the Army. There is another alternative, and that alternative is justice. If justice prevails, if my constitutional rights are upheld, I will be forced to go neither to the Army nor jail. In the end, I am confident that justice will come my way, for the truth must eventually prevail.”
I never regretted the decision I made that day. Most people know that I was stripped of my heavyweight championship title almost immediately, and that state boxing commissions around the country refused to give me licenses to fight in their state. My passport was taken from me so I couldn’t go overseas to fight. My prime boxing years were denied to me, and I had to find other ways to support myself and my family. The greatest cost to me, however, was that the Nation of Islam turned its back on me. I was no longer a member, and its members were not allowed to associate with me.
The Nation of Islam didn’t make me a Muslim; my belief in God made me a Muslim. I found a spiritual home in mainstream Sunni Islam. My relationship with God is what got me through this period; it gave me comfort and confidence in the future that I otherwise would not have had.
THE BOY
inside
THE MAN
THIS IS THE story of a boy who lived inside of a man.
The boy and man were the same person, with one heart
but two minds between them.
When the boy wanted to run, the man would walk.
When the boy wanted to cry, the man would shout.
When the boy wanted to play, the man would work.
The boy and the man did not see eye to eye on much of anything,
except when it came to matters of the heart.
Both the man and the boy loved and shared alike.
One day the man decided to change his name
and the boy was scared.
He feared he would be forgotten or left behind
with all the other passing memories in time.
But the man reassured the boy that he could not be forgotten.
Because who he had been, and who he would become,
were one and the same, and they would always remain alike.
This helped soothe the frightened boy
and on that fateful day, both the boy and the man
learned what strength was made of.
At first, many people did not respect the man’s wish
to be called by his new name and in the beginning
the man was defiant.
But the boy inside reminded him of tolerance,
and this is how they both learned what patience could accomplish.
After some time had passed the man grew wiser.
But the boy remembered all the sad stories—stories of other
little boys who had faded into memories.
So, he made it a point to hold on.
He focused on remaining strong.
Then, one day, the man was called to war.
The boy might have gone, but the man knew better.
He knew that if he went, the innocent boy inside—his better self—would be lost forever.
So both the boy and the man learned courage.
After the man took a stand, holding onto his religious beliefs,
he was stripped of all that the world thought made him special, and
the boy became a survivor.
On that day both the boy and man embraced forgiveness.
For the man knew that if he did not let go of his pain,
their heart would harden.
Therefore, the boy and man moved on.
After much time had passed,
after struggling to carry on, the man was vindicated and his career
returned to him.
Although the man forgave, the boy remembered his pain.
Yet, through this ordeal the man learned
what faith insured, and the boy learned to endure.
Although the future proved promising and the life of the man
was rewarding, he would face many obstacles
and would continue to be tested.
And through all of the joy, laughter, tears, and pain,
the boy inside the man lived to tell the story;
He survived to share the glory.
hana yasmeen ali
I NEVER WALKED into the ring solely for myself. I knew that the people of the world were watching. I knew that if they could see a strong person who had also suffered hardships, but who had never forgotten his people or where he came from, they might recognize in themselves what they saw in me. I knew that the war I was meant to fight was a spiritual war—a war that would lift spirits and elevate souls—not a war that would take other people’s lives.
When I look back, I see only what I have accomplished. The price I paid was nothing compared to what I gained. I lost the championship title. I lost three and a half of my prime fighting years. I lost financial security and public acclaim, but I gained something greater by giving it all up—
A title no man or government could ever take away: I was the People’s Champion.
A worldly loss often turns into a Spiritual gain.
the presence of GOD
THIS IS AN old story that I like to tell. It comes from the teachings of Sufism.
Long ago, there lived a very powerful king. The king had a great warrior by the name of Rafael. No one within or without the kingdom could match Rafael’s strength. He was the greatest of all the warriors. As time passed and Rafael remained undefeated, he grew very proud of his power, strength, and bravery. This made the king uncomfortable, so he thought that he should try to humble Rafael. But the king could not find anyone who could match Rafael’s strength or courage. He was one of a kind.
Then, one day Rafael decided to leave the king to travel the world. During his absence a son was born to him. His name was Cushman. The child’s mother died during childbirth, and the king took the child into his palace. No one knew he was Rafael’s son. This was the opportunity the king sought. Over time the child became a great fighter. He was so strong and powerful that no one in the land could match him.
