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Becoming Muhammad Ali

Page 7

by James Patterson


  like I’m ’bout to

  kiss Teenie or something,

  then I sing

  the word New,

  Stretching it out—NNNEEWWWWW!—so

  it sounds

  like a police siren,

  which makes

  them jokers scram

  so fast, they leave

  all their coins

  on the ground

  for us

  to run over

  and snatch.

  We Take

  the free money,

  then they head over

  to Rainbow

  for cheeseburgers

  while I make my way

  to the gym, chomping

  on my second onion

  of the day

  ’cause my father said

  eating them raw

  makes your bones stronger

  and keeps you regular.

  Regimen

  Shadowboxing and jogging on Mondays.

  Speed bags on Tuesdays.

  Weightlifting on Wednesdays and Fridays.

  Heavy bag on Thursdays.

  Jumping rope and sparring on Saturdays

  every week, but

  Joe Martin doesn’t think I’m ready,

  still won’t let me box

  a proper fight

  on Tomorrow’s Champions.

  Conversation with Joe Martin

  When you gonna let me box on TV?

  When you’re ready, kid.

  It’s been almost a year. I’m ready now.

  How many sit-ups you do today?

  Four sets of fifteen.

  When you do five sets of twenty and a hundred lunges and you stop playing pranks, that’s when.

  You keep moving the finish line, how’m I supposed to cross over? I’m ready.

  I say when you’re ready.

  Just put me in the ring, and I’ll show you. I’ll win every time.

  The fight is won before you get in the ring.

  What’s that supposed to mean?

  It means you gotta work harder, and faster, with your body and your mind.

  How’m I supposed to even get ready when you won’t let nobody hit me, Joe Martin?

  Soon as you learn to keep your fists up and protect your head.

  Can’t nobody catch me, so I don’t need my fists up. My feet protect me.

  That’s all fine, but some bruiser’s gonna catch you upside the head one day and you won’t know what hit you.

  Not while I’m moving and grooving. I got music in my soul, and rhythm in my sole. By the way, can we get some Chuck Berry or Bo Diddley on in here?

  You a dancer or a boxer?

  Maybe I’m both. Cassius Clay, fists strong as iron, feet fast as a lion.

  Get back to your training… and keep your fists up.

  So, when you gonna let me box on TV?

  …

  The First Time

  Joe Martin

  let me box,

  it was

  one round

  with Caden Wilkinson,

  a short sixteen-year-old

  from the Highlands,

  who pounded me

  so hard

  he bruised my jaw,

  nearly broke my nose,

  and woulda knocked me

  out cold

  if Joe Martin hadn’t pulled me

  out first.

  Set your feet, Cassius. Angle your body. Move, and—

  Yeah, I know, keep my fists up.

  You know it, then do it. Now go get some cotton so we can clean that bloody nose.

  …

  Sunday

  I try to sneak

  out the back door

  to hit the gym,

  but Bird catches me,

  says, Gee Gee, I told you

  no boxing

  on the Sabbath, then sends

  me and Rudy

  to Aunt Coretta’s house

  so she can cut

  our hair

  before church.

  I shadowbox

  all the way

  to Mount Zion Baptist,

  then sit

  in the back

  of Sunday school

  telling jokes

  and showing off

  my new card trick

  until the teacher

  offers five dollars to whomever

  can recite

  the most Bible verses.

  Love

  It’s a tie

  between Teenie

  and Riney,

  but he freezes

  on the last word

  and can’t remember

  the end of

  And now these three remain:

  faith, hope, and love.

  But the greatest of these

  is…

  Teenie remembers,

  we all clap for her,

  and after she goes up

  to get her five dollars,

  doesn’t even look

  in my direction,

  but blows Riney a kiss

  that I hate to admit

  makes me feel

  some kind of way.

  Conversation with Rudy

  We’re gonna be late for dinner.

  We’re not gonna be late.

  How long we supposed to jump rope?

  Till I say we finished, Rudy.

  I know we supposed to train hard all the time, but it’s Daddy’s birthday.

  No birthdays or holidays for champions.

  We not champions, though.

  Yet. Starts in your mind, Rudy. Believe it, achieve it. Heck, I’m already a champion. Call me king of the swing.

  How’s about we call your brother the Louisville Lip.

  Hey, Mr. Martin.

  Hey there, Rudy.

  That’s funny. My brother, the Louisville Lip.

  Y’all don’t faze me.

  What about Ronnie O’Keefe, he faze you?

  Who’s Ronnie O’Keefe?

  The tall white boy in the ring over there.

  Which one, Mr. Martin?

  The one with that lightning-fast jab.

  Nope, never heard of him. Doesn’t look so fast to me.

  Well, you’ll see for yourself, ’cause you’re fighting him Saturday night.

  I am?

  He is?

  Yup.

  Where?

  On TV.

  Cassius Clay vs. Ronnie O’Keefe

  NOVEMBER 12, 1954

  We both come out

  throwing blows

  everywhichaway.

  His arms long

  and bony

  as tree branches.

  My feet wild like

  the wind.

  I blow by him

  so fast, he can’t lay

  more than a few fingers

  on me.

  That’s all you got? I whisper

  in his ear

  when he clinches into me

  after a straight right punch

  that misses my cheek

  by an inch.

  The ref separates us

  and we go back at it,

  mostly missing each other

  until the end

  of the second round

  and most of the third,

  when I land a series

  of short pops

  to his head,

  one right below

  his left ear

  that makes him stumble

  into the ropes

  right in front of

  where Cash and Rudy

  and Lucky and my uncles

  are sitting

  and screaming,

  KO! KO! KO!

  but Ronnie gets saved

  by the bell,

  so I have to settle

  for a split decision

  and a four-dollar prize

  in my debut fight.

  Cassius Clay: One win.

  Zero losses.

  Promotional Tour<
br />
  To spread the word

  about my next fight,

  Cash said he would

  drive me

  around Louisville,

  but he didn’t come home

  the night before,

  and anyway

  his truck was sitting

  on two flats.

  So I down a quart

  of milk,

  two raw eggs,

  then take off

  with Rudy and Riney

  to knock on doors

  and announce myself

  to the world.

  We walk through

  black Parkland,

  laughing

  and cutting up

  and telling everybody

  how I’m gonna demolish

  my next opponent

  on TV.

  Introducing Me

  The name’s Cassius Clay

  and I’m gearing to fight.

  My next foe may bark,

  but I’m sure gon’ bite!

  If he comes in grinning

  like he’s having fun,

  I’ll wipe off that smile

  and beat him in one.

  If he tries to stick me

  like Elmer’s glue,

  I’ll turn up the heat

  and sting him in two.

  Tell all your friends

  best bet on me

  ’cause ain’t no way

  he’s lasting for three.

  ROUND SEVEN

  Want another scene from the movie starring Cassius? Here’s one. At least how I remember it:

  It was a fall afternoon. We were out back at the Clay house. Me, Cassius, and Rudy. We had borrowed some of Mr. Clay’s paints to make posters to promote Cassius’s next fight. But Cassius wasn’t satisfied with just names and places and dates and times. He had to add a little drama. A little color. A little poetry.

  Come see Clay go all the way, he wrote on one poster. Another one said, In just one round, his opponent goes down. I helped with the spelling. But the language was all his. For Cassius, it wasn’t enough to be a fighter. He had to be a fighter with flair.

  Cassius loved music. “Hound Dog” and “Long Tall Sally” were on the radio all the time that year. I think maybe that’s where he got the ideas for his rhymes. He always had songs in his head. But the words came out pure Cassius.

  By the end of the bout, his lights will be out! Like that.

  After the paint dried, we hauled them all over the West End, putting up the posters wherever we could find an empty space on a wall or a fence.

  We were putting up the last poster near a house on Virginia Avenue when we heard a screen door opening. A lady in a bright pink housecoat came out onto her stoop. She was looking straight at the poster—and she got red-hot mad.

  “Hey! You boys can’t put that poster up there!” she hollered.

  “It’s public property, ma’am,” said Cassius. Polite as always. He put another tack through the poster.

  “I know it is,” the lady said, “but that’s my nephew you’re gonna be fighting. I can’t have you bragging over him! Ain’t right!”

  Cassius looked at the poster. Right below his name (in smaller letters) was the name of his opponent. Jimmy Ellis.

  “Ma’am?” Cassius asked, pointing at her. “You Jimmy’s aunt?”

  “That’s right!” she said, pointing right back. “And I know who you are! You’re Cassius Clay! And Jimmy is going to knock you silly!”

  Cassius just smiled as he put the last tack in the poster. “Sorry, ma’am,” said Cassius. “Jimmy and I are friends, but when we get into that ring, I don’t know him. Nothin’ silly about that.” And at that very moment, I knew Jimmy Ellis was going down.

  In Louisville, boxing for kids was so popular that they actually put it on television—on the local station WAVE. The show was called Tomorrow’s Champions, and Cassius was the main attraction. In fact, he treated WAVE like his own personal TV empire. For every bout, he was so confident, it was like he’d already won before the fight even started. Cassius was just eighty-nine pounds when he licked his first opponent, Ronnie O’Keefe. And plenty more dropped after that. Big kids. Strong kids. When the bell rang, they came out swinging. Cassius just leaned back and let their punches land in midair. Then he started to jab back with his long arms.

  Right! Left! Right! Left! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!

  Pretty soon his opponents would be so tired from throwing air punches that they’d be bent over and panting!

  Cassius was already at another level. He had a way of knowing exactly when a punch was coming and where it was coming from. “My built-in radar,” he told me. Nobody—fans, trainers, sparring partners—had ever seen anything like it. “It can’t be!” one ref said. But it was.

  Pretty soon, my friend Cassius wasn’t the only one saying he was the greatest. All over Louisville, everybody was saying the same thing.

  Cassius Clay vs. James Davis

  FEBRUARY 4, 1955

  I won four fights

  in a row,

  one with a TKO,

  so I took it a little easy

  getting ready

  for my big fight

  in the Louisville Golden Gloves tournament

  against a little

  funny-looking

  kid named

  James Davis.

  I slept in a lot,

  skipped running

  in Chickasaw

  days at a time,

  just ran to school

  and back,

  didn’t drink much garlic water,

  goofed around

  with the fellas

  at the gym,

  stayed up late

  reciting rhymes

  with Rudy,

  and ate almost

  a whole chocolate cake

  plus three bowls of ice cream

  for dinner

  on my 13th birthday

  all of which is why

  Joe Martin said

  I looked sleepy,

  fought with no killer instinct,

  got beat

  like a rented mule,

  and lost my fifth fight

  to a short,

  funny-looking

  kid named

  James Davis.

  Cassius Clay: Four wins.

  One loss.

  Cassius Clay vs. John Hampton

  JULY 22, 1955

  Hamp smiled when

  he landed a few body

  shots, so when he got

  close enough to me

  I whispered, That’s all you got?

  then threw a left jab

  and a right hook that

  sent him tumbling

  to the mat.

  Cassius Clay: Nine wins.

  Two losses.

  Conversation with Rudy

  You racking up the wins, Gee-Gee. How do you feel?

  I feel with my hands. Now let me practice.

  I saw Teenie and Riney today.

  I’m trying to concentrate, Rudy.

  I’m just saying, I think they going together.

  …

  You know her cousin Alice?

  Yeah.

  She asked me to be her boyfriend.

  I thought you already had a girlfriend, Rudy.

  Just ’cause you don’t have time for girls, Gee-Gee, don’t mean I gotta be the same.

  …

  You think Riney and Teenie really a thing?

  I DON’T KNOW, RUDY!

  You mad?

  Mad that you won’t let me focus. Ain’t nobody thinking about Riney, Teenie, or her cousin Alice. Now, unless you want a fat lip, you best let me finish my sit-ups.

  Before

  When we got home

  from training

  at the gym

  I made Rudy jump rope

  with me

  for another fifteen minutes,

  then do bicycle crunches

  and sit-ups


  in the backyard

  until we both

  just collapsed

  under the stars, dreaming

  about the future

  until Cash brought us

  back to the present.

  We Thought

  we’d done something wrong

  when he kept hollering

  for us to come inside,

  but when we did

  and saw him

  shaking his head,

  chin trembling,

  and grief pouring

  from his eyes,

  we thought again.

  And, when he showed us

  the picture

  of the dead boy,

  we cried too.

  I Was Thirteen

  when I lost

  my first fight,

  and my first girl

  to my best friend.

  When Teenie told me

  that she chose Riney

  ’cause I was married

  to my boxing gloves

  and the ring.

  When I got real serious

  about the sweet science,

  trained and fought

  like a madman.

  When I decided

  that one day

  I was gonna become

  the heavyweight champion

  of the world.

  When my daddy

  showed us

  a gruesome magazine photograph

  of a twelve-year-old faceless boy

  who was visiting family

  in Mississippi

  for the summer

  when he was shot in the head,

  drowned in the river,

  and killed

  for maybe whistling

  at a white woman.

  When I got to see

  Emmett Till

  and the face

  of America.

  After

  Even though I won

  the next few fights, I felt a

  devastating loss.

  I Was Thirteen

 

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