Ali remembered fondly
This is from memory. I didn’t confirm by Internet searches or reference sources, so some of the facts maybe, probably will be inaccurate. But, this is from memory.
It was the summer of 1960 and I watched the Summer Olympics. There were broadcasts on TV from Rome. I remember a “colored” boxer who was the star. White people where I lived didn’t use “black” in referring to the then majority minority group. Black pride, black is beautiful, or black power hadn’t yet entered the lexicon. Where I lived it was polite to say negro or colored because black only preceded nigger as dumb preceded Hunky and Jew was followed by bastard.
I hadn’t heard of Jackie Robinson or the phrase “breaking the color line.” Though I liked the Pirates, I wasn’t really a baseball fan. I liked boxing. Even though I was a chubby kid, fat would be more appropriate, for the day, I considered myself a fighter. My dad had taught me how to stand and protect myself, how to throw jabs and hooks and upper-cuts. My self identity was not being pushed around, not backing down, even when I was scared; I was more frightened of shame and cowardice than I was of being hit. I was 10, and I could, and would fight. I bullied some and didn’t back down from others. I am ashamed of the way I treated my younger, much smaller, skinny brother.
That summer Cassius Clay fought in the Olympics as a light heavyweight. He fought three round fights and it seemed to me they weren’t even close, but I remember that the semifinal was, according to the scorekeeper, a competitive fight. I though they must be watching another bout because in my eyes, Cassius outclassed the other fighter and had easily won. He did win, but it was close, according to the experts. My recollection is that the championship fight wasn’t very hard for Clay, and he beat a Russian or maybe a Cuban. I didn’t think he got the credit he deserved. It could have been racism. I don’t know, but I didn’t care. He was a fighter, and I celebrated.
He was magnificent and spoke well, and I don’t recall any brashness or bravado in his voice or manner. He was well-spoken and firm and that didn’t sit well with many who thought he had a “place”and didn’t know it, and surely didn’t stay in it.
I will always remember that summer sitting in front of the TV cheering for Cassius Marcellus Clay. He would later fight many battles in and out of the squared circle. That was his first shot at greatness, and he was ready. He was my hero. He died recently, but he gave me something that death can’t vanquish. He gave me hope that a fat little boy could reach for dreams; that places are for ashtrays and lamps, not people. Goodbye champ! Watch out Rocky Marciano, Joe Louis and Jack Dempsey. “The Greatest” is in town.
Samuel J. Davis is a Uniontown attorney with the law firm of Davis and Davis.