There can be no debate that Muhammad Ali was so much more than a prolific heavyweight boxing champion.
Other than the great Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Ali was arguably the most significant force behind the civil rights movement in my lifetime, and he inspired countless more to stand up for equality and the dignity it demands.
Clearly, that role was so much more important to both himself and our nation than his professional boxing career. But as a sports fan and someone who loathes the fact the heavyweight division in boxing is no longer as relevant as it was in Ali’s heyday, his death selfishly saddened me, prompting a return to my previous thoughts of how his storied career ended, and reliving the tragic aspect in how it happened and, more importantly, why.
Surrounded by Don King and other shady characters looking to prosper from his name, Ali was mired in debt in the twilight of his brilliant career and was forced to fight in poor health to offset the mismanagement of his personal assets, both by himself and those who placed their own financial well-being ahead of his. Preferring to forget it, I will never be able to erase the memories of how Larry Holmes pounded the proud-but-physically-spent Ali in their 1980 match in Las Vegas. Clearly weakened by age and the toll of a lifetime of boxing, Ali’s reflexes were non-existent, and he couldn’t pack a punch that would even faze the younger and stronger Holmes. Finally, his corner stopped the merciless beating in the 10th round, ending the debacle and allowing Holmes to hug his mentor and apologize in the ring to the man whom he had once served as a sparring partner, when Ali was still very capable of boxing.
Unfortunately, those around Ali wouldn’t stop him from fighting again, and despite having to turn to South Carolina as the only state boxing commission in the country that would issue him a license, Ali climbed back into the ring in 1981 for a much-needed payday to fight a younger and much stronger (yet far less talented) opponent, Trevor Berbick. While Ali somehow went 10 rounds that night, he again took a pounding that clearly resonated with him afterward, and he retired permanently from boxing. By then, the damage was done for all of us who grew up idolizing Ali, but also vividly remember how bad other iconic sports figures looked as they toiled on long after their bodies had given out, seeking both one last hurrah and a paycheck.
Who can forget how sad Willie Mays, the greatest all-around player in the history of the game of baseball, looked in a New York Mets uniform as he was thrown out at home plate in the World Series, after he couldn’t accept the fact his superb career had indeed ended with the San Francisco Giants? Perhaps the sight of Joe Namath with two clinically dead knees in a Los Angeles Rams uniform is another reminder of how many athletes hang on too long. There are many more, but I guess I thought Ali would be magical in the ring until the end of his career, just as he was in his personal life after he finally put his gloves down for good. Perhaps it was the mystique of this iconic man that led me to believe he could go on forever, or at least as long as he wanted to, when it came to being dominant in the ring.
Sure, I get it: Father Time is undefeated. But this was Muhammad Ali, for goodness’ sake, and if anyone could turn back their athletic clock, well, it had to be him, right? The reality of it all took precedent, but it never will rob me of what his grace and power meant throughout most of his career. I say “most,” because even Ali wasn’t exempt from the inevitable erosion of one’s physical skills, and while almost all of my memories of this great man are stellar, I regret I will never be able to erase what occurred in his last two bouts, and I’m sure Ali never reconciled it as well. Fortunately, his second wife was able to take control of his financial affairs and, through global endorsements and investments, Ali was reported to be worth $50 million at the time of his death. While that is wonderful, it doesn’t change the fact that he was exploited at the end of his run as a boxer and could’ve been killed.
Professional sports is indeed a cruel entity, and certainly the sword that makes you legendary as an athlete cuts both ways, but I think I will continue to try and look beyond what happened to Ali in those final two bouts and remember the days in which he was both prolific and certainly spectacular as a boxer, and more importantly, a human being.
Call me sentimental, or even unrealistic, but I refuse to discard those memories. Clearly, Ali deserves that as well.
Danny Bridges, who once was TKO’d by a chance encounter that led to meeting the great Muhammad Ali, can be reached at (317) 370-8447 or at Bridgeshd@aol.com.
Danny Bridges is an award-winning journalist and a longtime sports columnist for the Indianapolis Recorder. He covers college, professional sports and especially all things IndyCar racing. He can be reached at 317-370-8447 or at bridgeshd@aol.com.
