The Greatest

My father used to tell me the story of Ali’s “first” fight often. You know the one, the fight where he knocked out Sonny Liston. Usually we’d be shadowboxing in front of my childhood home, it was kind of our routine.

He’d tell me how he used to shadowbox with his father, a boxing trainer, and talk about upcoming fights. Ali’s fight with Liston though, always stuck with him. As they were speculating on the fight, my dad favored Liston to win the fight based on his experience and immense power. My grandfather on the other hand, would argue that Ali’s youth, speed, and determination would win him the fight.

After a good bit of back and forth, my father and grandfather in rural Tanga, Tanzania turned the radio on to listen to the fight. Within moments, my grandfather was proven right; the first time contender for the heavy weight title had won. Not only had he beaten the more seasoned Liston, but he’d done it in a swift, magnanimous fashion never before witnessed.

First round. First minute. First time Champ.

The story of a young man who’d bested many people’s expectations, including my father’s, became as much a part of our routine as the shadowboxing. Ali was talented, relentless, passionate and compassionate. He was a boxer, storyteller, and civil rights activist. Even when persecuted for his anti-war stance, he stuck to his just convictions. Years later when he’d finally return to the ring, he maintained his fire and vigor despite his age.

He was a hero who left his mark the moment he took to the ring. He was a true hero and an inspiration.

Seperated by many miles and several years, Ali was shaping my upbringing. Dad would almost always finish the story saying, “Rumble young man, rumble.”

Rest in Paradise