Kiwi recalls the day his ‘heart beat like a bastard’
He was fast of fist and foot – lip, too – a heavyweight champion who promised to shock the world and did. He floated. He stung. Mostly he thrilled, even after the punches had taken their toll and his voice barely rose above a whisper. He was The Greatest. Muhammad Ali died yesterday at age 74, according to a statement from the family. He was hospitalised in the Phoenix area with respiratory problems earlier this week, and his children had flown in from around the country.
‘‘It’s a sad day for life, man. I loved Muhammad Ali, he was my friend. Ali will never die,’’ Don King, who promoted some of Ali’s biggest fights, told The Associated Press.
‘‘Like Martin Luther King his spirit will live on, he stood for the world.’’
A funeral will be held in his hometown of Louisville, Kentucky.
With a wit as sharp as the punches he used to ‘‘whup’’ opponents, Ali dominated sports for two decades before time and Parkinson’s disease, triggered by thousands of blows to the head, ravaged his magnificent body, muted his majestic voice and ended his storied career in 1981.
He won and defended the heavyweight championship in epic fights in exotic locations, spoke loudly on behalf of blacks, and famously refused to be Lance Revill will forever cherish the two rounds he slugged it out with Muhammad Ali.
On his only visit to New Zealand in 1979, Ali, who died yesterday aged 74 at Arizona Hospital after a long battle with Parkinson’s disease, brought out a 10-man amateur boxing team and trained at Auckland’s Onehunga gym for one week.
Revill was in ‘‘seventh heaven’’ as he watched the great man banter and box but did not dream he would have the chance to get in the ring with the three-time world heavyweight champion.
Now referee and president of the New Zealand Professional Boxing Association, Revill sat 15 rows back at Western Springs as Ali squared off against fellow champs Jimmy Ellis and Joe Bugner.
Revill says those fights were ‘‘lame’’ and recalls the crowd growing restless.
Ali made light work of a Maori drafted into the Army during the Vietnam War because of his Muslim beliefs.
Despite his debilitating illness, he travelled the world to rapturous receptions even after his once-bellowing voice was quieted and he was left to communicate with a wink or a weak smile.
‘‘He was the greatest fighter of all time but his boxing career is secondary to his contribution to the world,’’ promoter Bob Arum said.
‘‘He’s the most transforming figure of my time certainly.’’
Revered by millions worldwide and reviled by millions more, Ali cut quite a figure, 190cm and 95kg in his prime. ‘‘Float like a man from the crowd and then pointed to Revill, who by this point had made his way ringside.
Two rounds later he had a lump on his head a story to treasure for a lifetime.
‘‘He saw me and said ‘you’re the great white hope’. I got in the ring and had brown boots and bellbottom pants and a paisley shirt which was the fashion back then,’’ Revill said. ‘‘As I put my gloves on my heart was beating like a bastard.
‘‘I turned and looked at Ali and thought ‘I’m going to have a go at him I might as well make it worthwhile and give the crowd some excitement’.
‘‘The first round was a blur for me it went so fast but nearly everything I threw connected. I got him with some good shots; right hands, left hooks. Right on the bell I threw an uppercut and left hook and caught him.’’
Exhausted, Revill went back to his corner, slumped on the ropes and tried to get his gloves off; job done he thought. Ali had other butterfly, sting like a bee,’’ his cornermen exhorted, and he did just that in a way no heavyweight had ever fought before.
He fought in three different decades, finished with a record of 56-5 with 37 knockouts – 26 of those bouts promoted by Arum – and was the first man to win heavyweight titles three times.
He whipped the fearsome Sonny Liston twice, toppled the mighty George Foreman with the rope-a-dope in Zaire, and nearly fought to the death with Joe Frazier in the Philippines. Through it all, he was trailed by a colourful entourage who merely added to his growing legend.
‘‘Rumble, young man, rumble,’’ cornerman Bundini Brown would pB2 yell to him.
And rumble Ali did. He fought anyone who meant anything and made millions of dollars with his lightning-quick jab. His fights were so memorable that they had names – ‘‘Rumble in the Jungle’’ and ‘‘Thrilla in Manila.’’
But it was as much his antics – and his mouth – outside the ring that transformed the man born Cassius Clay into a household name as Muhammad Ali.
‘‘I am the greatest,’’ Ali thundered again and again. Few would disagree. Ali spurned white America when he joined the Black Muslims and changed his name. He defied the draft at the height of the Vietnam war – ‘‘I ain’t got no ideas. He came over and whacked Revill on the back and said ‘‘one more round’’.
‘‘Next thing the bell rung and Ali quarrel with them Viet Cong’’ – and lost three-and-a-half years from the prime of his career. He entertained world leaders, once telling Philippines President Ferdinand Marcos: ‘‘I saw your wife. You’re not as dumb as you look.’’
He later embarked on a second career as a missionary for Islam.
‘‘Boxing was my field mission, the first part of my life,’’ he said in 1990, adding with typical braggadocio, ‘‘I will be the greatest evangelist ever.’’
Ali couldn’t fulfil that goal because Parkinson’s robbed him of his speech. It took such a toll on his body that the sight of him in his later years – trembling, his face frozen, the man who came at me so I had to defend myself. This time he was serious – it was payback for the first round. I took a whack in the forehead and I was against the ropes and seeing stars.’’
Later that night, Revill went out on the town with a banged-up face. When he told people Ali did the damage they didn’t believe him.
‘‘It’s something that I’ll never, ever forget. To hear the guy has died it’s tragic. He’ll be remembered for bringing everyone back. When Ali was around everyone knew about professional boxing.’’
Ali was inspiration to many, including former Kiwi heavyweight champion David Tua.
‘‘You mimic him,’’ Tua said. ‘‘I made believe that I was Muhammad Ali. For better or worse it was a great motivation because as a young kid you aspire to be like him.
‘‘He was not only a man who backed up his talk but stood up for what he believed in, especially when he was asked to join the army. I will always respect that about him.’’ invented the Ali Shuffle now barely able to walk – shocked and saddened those who remembered him in his prime.
The quiet of Ali’s later life was in contrast to the roar of a career that had breathtaking highs as well as terrible lows.
He exploded on the public scene with a series of nationally televised fights that gave the public an exciting new champion, and he entertained millions as he sparred verbally with the likes of bombastic sportscaster Howard Cosell.
Ali once calculated he had taken 29,000 punches to the head and made US$57 million in his pro career, but the effect of the punches lingered long after most of the money was gone.
That didn’t stop him from travelling tirelessly to promote Islam, meet with world leaders and champion legislation dubbed the Muhammad Ali Boxing Reform Act.
Despised by some for his outspoken beliefs and refusal to serve in the US Army in the 1960s, an aging Ali became a poignant figure whose mere presence at a sporting event would draw long standing ovations.
With his hands trembling so uncontrollably that the world held its breath, he lit the Olympic torch for the 1996 Atlanta Games in a performance as riveting as some of his fights.
One of his biggest opponents would later become a big fan, too. On the eve of the 35th anniversary of their ‘‘Rumble in the Jungle,’’ Foreman paid tribute to the man who so famously stopped him in the eighth round of their 1974 heavyweight title fight, the first ever held in Africa.
‘‘I don’t call him the best boxer of all time but he’s the greatest human being I ever met,’’ Foreman said.
‘‘To this day he’s the most exciting person I ever met in my life.’’
In 1990, he went to Iraq on his own initiative to meet with Saddam Hussein and returned to the United States with 15 Americans who had been held hostage.
‘‘I’ve always known that Muhammad Ali was a super sportsman; but during those hours that we were together, inside that enormous body I saw an angel,’’ hostage Harry BrillEdwards said.
For his part, Ali didn’t complain about the price he had paid in the ring.
‘‘What I suffered physically was worth what I’ve accomplished in life,’’ he said in 1984.
‘‘A man who is not courageous enough to take risks will never accomplish anything in life.’’