For winning in sports, as in life, time is of the essence. For millions of people all over the world. Muhammed Ali remains a boxing hero. In his prime, he was without question the master of the ring. For more than one decade, he mystified the whole world by his commanding rhythmic physique that knocked down opponents at the very round, appointed by Ali, well before the fight. Did Ali possess supernatural powers? Hell, no. It was simply Ali’s “time”, and nothing could have stopped him then.
In his time, Ali rode on in glory, jabbed with his mouth as much as he did with his fists. He became rich ($60 million in total ring earnings), famous and controversial. When he refused to be dragged into the Vietnam war, the American government rescinded his world heavyweight championship title. But Ali “reigned” on. It was still his time.
For three turbulent years, Ali took on the American government until the law courts overturned the government order. Ali won again! Instantly, he became more than the ordinary gladiator in the boxing ring. His courage in dealing with adversity reinforced his mass appeal. Americans, especially black people, perceived his life as the embodiment of courage, fortitude and success. Ali did not call himself “The Greatest” for nothing.
But every man’s time must run out. Ali the poet, the talkative philosopher, and new Islamic convert, knew it. In his second coming, he demonstrated his talents for the sport he loved so much, reached an inertia, and then tried to stretch his time. He lost his title two times and won it three times. A world record in boxing history. He also retired umpteen times. Another world record.
Ali first lost to Joe Frazier and then tricked George Foreman into defeat in Zaire. His last noble fight was the “Thrilla in Manila” in which he killed the soul of Frazier and buttressed his own glory.
Then he began to fight boxers of unacknowledged skills. Clearly, Ali was buying time. But how could he? One of these lesser fighters, Leon Spinks, taunted Ali and robbed him of his title. Ali’s time was out when Spinks declared: “Ali is the Greatest but I am the latest.” Not true. In their re-match, Ali gave him a thorough boxing lesson, took back his title and again, retired.
Ali is a man of breath-taking personality who turned the world on, and himself into the Prince of the World. It was on this doubt of his infinite greatness that Ali anchored his need and determination to improve his own record and perform a feat that no man ever would beat. Ali’s arrogance was justified by the fact that he usually matched his boastfulness with remarkable prowess in the boxing ring. But this time, only Ali believed himself. His pretty wife, Veronica, did not want Ali to fight and said she somberly. “But Muhammed is unpredictable.”
Money and public admiration lured Ali back into the ring. In his encounter with Holmes, Ali’s dancing imagination could hardly hold. In the first round, Holmes, hungry for money and fame, dizzied the mind of the ex-champion with punches. Ali looked pitiful.
In the second, Homes rained even harder punches. His legs wobbled but Ali did not fall. Clearly, the magic was gone. Time was out. Ali the master craftsman ignominiously lost to his own pupil.
Ali remained as graceful in defeat as he always was in victory. The next day, at a press interview, he blamed no one for his defeat it himself. Incredible gallantry! He confessed to have used drugs to lose weight so he could buy time and youth. His action, he admitted, possessed so meaning. Jokingly, he said “but I shall return.”
Never in America again, when boxing bigwigs will not let Ali fight in America, he used his immense international connections to orchestrate a match in the Bahamas. Far away to sunny Bahamas, time once more, and finally, betrayed Ali and so ended the phenomenal career of a charismatic fighter. In truth, no amount of effort could make a man’s star shine beyond its given time.
In January 1984, the year of the Olympics, Muhammed Ali, alas, announced his return to boxing. Retirement made Ali’s life very uneasy. He tried many trades like acting, and diplomacy, and flunked badly. Always colossal in thinking and living, Ali dreamt of building a massive humanitarian world organization in his retirement. Yes, a kind of personal United Nations to massage the ego of the ex-champion. The hopes of this day-dream quickly evaporated.
Ali would find no peace until he cuts himself to human size. He soon got wiser with the world. His ego became tame and he finally reconciled himself with the inevitability of “time” to beat us all. In this come-back, Ali would fight no more. Rather, he would train and promote the careers of younger fighters. Of course, profit is part of the notice but the benevolence of the act is unquestionable.
Ali would sit in the arena in Los Angeles, recruit boxing talents, and then tap his own gifts and experience to nurse these young athletes into as great a fighter as he was, or even greater. He has no quarrel with the world and boxing records any more. Ali has finally retired, and come home. His understanding of himself and history has redeemed his fading star and enlightened the rest of the world.
In life, rise and decline is bound to be sudden fame, money and power must not intoxicate the benefactor of God’s wish. We do not create power; we only utilize it. Politicians who became powerful in our second republic turned to be money and power gluttons. They simply forgot their humble beginnings, and did not put themselves into nature’s plan. History knows best how to deal with such people.
In their forced recess, all politicians must reflect deeply and take a cue from the benevolence of a true “champion.” The story of Ali’s like teaches us that the useless expenditure of human life on trivialities is always sad. That winning, afterall, is not everything. That retirement is inevitable and could be honourable. Above all, that we succeed only when we help the younger generation to blossom in good direction.
As retirement finally cheers Ali on, I wish him well in his new enterprise.
• This article was first published in The Guardian on March 19, 1984.
