Why Ali is the Greatest

Ali did all that. And more, which is why he was so overwhelmingly voted the best sportsman of the last century. He won an Olympic gold, then the world title once, twice, three times. He stood boxing shibboleths on their head and created his own style, notably the Ali Shuffle, using his legs to keep dancing, keep moving. And, in that Kinshasa bout (the Rumble in the Jungle), Ali violated another boxing rule: knowing his legs couldn’t keep up with the heat and humidity, he spent most of the fight backed up against the ropes, absorbing Foreman’s sledgehammer blows. In the eighth round, when Foreman was washed out, Ali stepped up and knocked him down.

But the audacity of his sporting decisions pale against the exuberance of his personal life, and this is where contemporary sportsmen can draw inspiration from. This is also perhaps what puts him a cut above other greats — Bradman, Ruth, Pele, Sampras: the ability and willingness to exist by one’s own rules and outside one’s sporting arena. This Ali did through a mixture of verbal swagger (the ‘Louisville Lip’ was possibly the first rap artist) and a seemingly incongruous, but firm, adherence to his values.

Values that prompted him, the day after winning the world title for the first time, to rename himself Cassius X, a pointed renunciation of his “slave name”. He joined Malcolm X’s Nation of Islam and took on the name he later became known by. Neither decision went down well in deeply conservative USA but they were nothing compared to what was coming: in ’67, he refused to fight in Vietnam. “I ain’t got no quarrel with them Viet Cong,” he famously said. The fallout was swift and brutal: he was stripped of his title, banned from boxing in most of the US and sentenced to five years in jail.

That single act, for most people, is what makes Ali The Greatest. He knew, when he made his decision, what he was doing (and he had an army of hangers on to remind him in case he forgot), he knew he faced a return to grinding poverty. But he stood and fell by his conscience; and, seven years later, it was that same conscience which gave him the strength to absorb Foreman’s blows and reclaim his title.

Those were, indeed, heady times, especially for Black Americans and those with a mind (the only other parallel to Ali’s defiance was Tommie Smith’s Black Power salute in the Mexico Olympics). Sport has changed greatly in the 20 years since Ali’s exit from the ring. The money’s increased exponentially, as has publicity and, consequently, public awareness. So, too, has a sportsman’s responsibility to his fans and the paying public. Sadly, though, few have acquitted themselves with any distinction, few have championed a cause other than under the safe guidance of Unicef or some such agency or raised their voice at a perceived injustice to others.

Tiger Woods could have been a shining spokesman for Black America but you’d be hard-pressed to make out that he’s one himself; David Beckham is obviously hamstrung by his commitment to sponsors. Sachin Tendulkar could have come out strongly against the Gujarat riots but waited till he was one among many in an ad campaign.

That is why they will be remembered as golfer, footballer and cricketer. Not sportsman, not hero, not legend. As commercialism takes greater control over sport, pulling the strings and gagging the participants, it seems increasingly unlikely that another Muhammad Ali will come along. So watch the film if you can; you won’t see anything like it on your sports channels.