The world is mourning the death of boxing legend, Muhammad Ali, who has died aged 74 after being admitted to a hospital in Pheonix on Thursday. Ali had suffered from Parkinson's syndrome since 1984. His condition was complicated by a respiratory illness.
When the news arrived that Ali had died aged 74 in Phoenix, Arizona,after a 32-year battle with Parkinson’s disease, its inevitability did not soften the blow for admirers who numbered in their billions. He lived in an era of mass communication that led John Lennon to claim the Beatles were more popular than Jesus Christ; Ali made a compelling case to push them into third place.
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| Muhammad Ali training ahead of his 1976 heavyweight fight against British Richard Dunn at the Olympiahalle in Munich, Germany. Photograph: Istvan Bajzat/EPA |
He housed such an improbable quantity of warmth that it seemed the love he generated could sustain the planet. He was for many, as a gauche pop song of the 70s went, the Black Superman. Such adoration will appear ludicrous to a generation who knew him only as a sick old man, a long-retired famous fighter whose rare and faltering public appearances usually coincided with the death of one of his contemporaries, most notably Joe Frazier in November, 2011. Yet, for those who saw him box, listened to him talk and watched him grow into a media phenomenon of his own creation, it was easy to regard Ali as unlike the rest of us. The paradox was he was like all of us, in one way or another.
He was the funniest athlete of his era, of that there can be little argument. In the end, after a life of serial duplicity, innocent and otherwise, he found serenity. He used his illness, too, to turn pity into love. He forgave anyone who ever did him down, and there have always been plenty of those scoundrels in professional boxing. He held not a single grudge, and gave away a thousand little bits of himself, from a smile to an autograph, unloading the tat of his trade – gloves, shorts, robes, even a signed cigarette paper – to those who valued such things. Everyone wanted a piece of Ali, and, in the end, he let them take what they wanted. He found riches elsewhere.
Which brings to mind an oft-repeated Ali story. A nervous flier but a bigger egoist, Ali once refused to buckle up when a flight attendant asked him to do so moments before take-off. “Superman don’t need no seatbelt,” he protested in mock indignation. “Superman don’t need no airplane,” she is alleged to have replied. The anecdote describes both his ego and his attachment to mischief-making – and it might even be true. The Ali myth-making machine was prodigious.
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| Malcolm X and Muhammad Ali high five while surrounded by jubilant fans after he beat Sonny Liston. Photograph: Bob Gomel/Time & Life Pictures/Getty Image |
Ali was many things to many people. To older connoisseurs of boxing, to his mother, Odessa, and, until his own end, to Joe Frazier, he was always Cassius Clay. He was the brash and beautiful young black man from Louisville who, “shook up the world”. He did that by beating the unbeatable beast that was Sonny Liston, in Miami in February, 1964, as Cassius Clay and thereafter continued to do it, time and again, asMuhammad Ali.
Religion and politics aside, Ali remained a prisoner of his original vocation: boxing. When it was said and done, what he did best was knock out great fighters. To most (but not all) of those who did not have to suffer embarrassment against him in the ring, Ali was an inspiration. So many young men of his era all over the world took up boxing because they wanted to move like him, box like him, talk like him, be like him. That was impossible, however, because Ali dealt in a singular magic, inside and outside the ring. This most beguiling of dream-sellers bewitched opponents with the power of his personality, much as Mike Tyson did with his intimidating knockout power.
Ali did not brood like Tyson, though, nor like Liston. Indeed, he carried none of their innate menace, taking an unusually theatrical route towards intimidation and self-promotion. His air was invariably lighthearted and his life-long addiction to parlour tricks ensured he retained his innocence and sense of wonder until the final bell. He also loved attention and would tell some outrageous fibs to generate headlines.
In a sport of lies, he was the ultimate deceiver. An early example of his mischief was the iconic photo of a young Cassius Clay, posing as if sparring underwater in boxing shorts, a striking image which graced the cover of Life magazine in 1961. The photographer, Flip Schulke, and the publishers were unaware at the time that Ali could not swim. He performed similar legerdemain on dry land.
As a ring artist, he was, for much of his career, peerless. Nobody – certainly at heavyweight – boxed so brilliantly but with such disregard for orthodoxy, which perplexed his opponents and annoyed the experts. He often led with his right, sometimes with both feet off the ground, as if levitating. He retreated in straight lines. He kept his hands down and his chin perilously in the air. He would grab and hold, illegally, frustrating opponents and kidding referees. All these misdemeanours broke boxing’s verities of technique and etiquette. Yet, until his legs and brain began to lose syncopation, he was untouchable, literally and metaphorically.
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| Muhammad Ali spars with Floyd Patterson during the World Heavyweight Championship fight in 1965. Photograph: Allsport/Getty Images |
Ali often humiliated opponents, with no dispensation for fellow black fighters, from Liston to Frazier. In a 1965 fight he made the inoffensive Floyd Patterson into a public punchbag for a lot longer than was warranted, because he reckoned the former champion was a spokesman for the establishment Ali had come to regard as the enemy. In February, 1967, shortly before the first phase of his career was to be cut short by the courts and boxing authorities, he forced Ernie Terrell – again in Houston – to suffer for the full 15 rounds that were standard in championship fights at the time, asking him repeatedly, “What’s my name?”, punishment for Terrell’s refusal to acknowledge his Muslim moniker.
White fighters, however, were not usually taunted so ruthlessly. Ali liked Henry Cooper. He took pity on Richard Dunn. He had a sneaking regard for those twins of obduracy, Chuck Wepner and George Chuvalo. But he did not need their approval or respect, as he demanded of Liston, Frazier, Patterson and Terrell. Through perversity or pride, Ali was often in conflict with his own people, a rebel within a rebellion. There were a significant number of African Americans who were uncomfortable with his allegiance to the Nation – and none of his perceived enemies suffered the backlash more profoundly than Joe Frazier, a decent man whom Ali denigrated for most of their parallel careers, ostensibly for show and money, but also because he could. It was a stain on his character not easily removed.
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| Muhammad Ali is flanked by his wife Lonnie, left, and his daughter Hana as they watch his daughter Laila Ali make her boxing debut. Photograph: Joe Traver/Reuters |
Aside from aiding some of the best sports writing ever, Ali heavily influenced all facets of popular culture: from TV, to cinema to music. Some good, some bad but I’m sure we all have our personal favourites.
The president of Ireland, Michael D Higgins, wrote a tribute especially the bit about rights strikingly missing in some of the world’s most prosperous nations.
" Many will remember the wit, grace and beauty he brought to boxing and some will recall his visits to Ireland. All over the world people also flocked to hear him offer his view on the achievement of democracy and particularly equal rights when they were so strikingly missing in some of the richest countries of the world. He brought his message of freedom and respect for people of all races to all the continents of the world.
As a sportsman and humanitarian, and as someone who struggled for a very long time with one of the most debilitating illnesses, he offered courage in the face of great difficulties. He was intent on going on communicating right to the very end".
The Democrat nomination hopeful Bernie Sanders says: “Muhammad Ali was the greatest, not only an extraordinary athlete but a man of great courage and humanity.”
And the Republican Donald Trump has weighed in: “Muhammad Ali is dead at 74! A truly great champion and a wonderful guy. He will be missed by all!” It would be too easy to score cheap political points here by contrasting with various other Trump tweets, so for the best that we leave it there.
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| Cassius Clay’s handlers hold him back after he is announced as the new heavyweight champion of the world after beating Sonny Liston for the first time |
A statement from the
WWE on Ali’s passing
"WWE is saddened to learn that two-time world heavyweight boxing championMuhammad Ali passed away at age 74 on June 3, 2016,” it starts, before detailing Ali’s perhaps lesser known links to wrestling.
"Ali also made history for his historic boxer vs. wrestler match against WWE Hall of Famer Antonio Inoki in Tokyo on June 26, 1976. The fight is regarded as a precursor to modern mixed martial arts. In 1985, Ali made his mark in WWE history when he was one of the special guest referees for the main event of the first WrestleMania at Madison Square Garden. The bout featured WWE Champion Hulk Hogan and pop culture icon Mr. T against "Mr. Wonderful” Paul Orndorff and “Rowdy” Roddy Piper. During the contest, Ali climbed up onto the ring apron and took a swing at Piper."
"WWE extends its condolences to Ali’s family, friends and fans."
A statement from former US President Bill Clinton
"Hillary and I are saddened by the passing of Muhammad Ali. From the day he claimed the Olympic gold medal in 1960, boxing fans across the world knew they were seeing a blend of beauty and grace, speed and strength that may never be matched again. We watched him grow from the brash self-confidence of youth and success into a manhood full of religious and political convictions that led him to make tough choices and live with the consequences. Along the way we saw him courageous in the ring, inspiring to the young, compassionate to those in need, and strong and good-humored in bearing the burden of his own health challenges.
I was honored to award him the Presidential Citizens Medal at the White House, to watch him light the Olympic flame, and to forge a friendship with a man who, through triumph and trials, became even greater than his legend. Our hearts go out to Lonnie, his children, and his entire family."
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US President Bill Clinton presents Muhammed Ali and his trainer Angelo Dundee (right) with an award in October, 2000. Photograph: Reuters Photographer / Reuters/REUTERS
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Muhammad Ali was never shy about lauding his own balletic talents in the boxing ring, and this photograph shows why. His ability to move away from his opponent, Joe Frazier, with such grace makes Frazier’s haymaker look utterly crude. Ali appears to be untouchable. How ironic, then, that Frazier won the contest that was dubbed Fight of The Century.
Ali the fighter will be remembered best, probably, for two controversial nights of high drama against Liston – the second containing the infamous phantom punch – another when Cooper embarrassed him with the sweetest of all his fabled left hooks at Wembley in 1963, the first and last contests of his trilogy against Frazier, the Fight of the Century at Madison Square Garden in 1971 and in Manila four years later, and his 1974 miracle after midnight in the jungle of Zaire against George Foreman. To beat the ogre Foreman against universal expectation at 32 pleased him more than nearly any other victory. It was a shame, yet inevitable, that he would carry on past the next defining contest of his later days, the dismantling of Frazier in 1975 that left both of them physically and spiritually wrecked.
SEE ALSO: Muhammad Ali - 25 Best Photographs Of The Legendary Boxer
