I met him on the Atlantic City Boardwalk on a warm summer night in July 1970. It was late, and I was getting ready to close the Kohr Brothers frozen custard stand where I worked that hot summer. Suddenly, I heard a commotion in the middle of the boardwalk; I looked over and saw kids laughing like crazy. The lively ‘group’ bounced their way toward my stand, and there he was, in the middle; smiling, teasing, and tickling them without a care in the world.
Muhammad Ali was in his prime, although not actively boxing at the time. He was 6’ 4” and about 225 pounds, towering over me by four inches and 60 pounds. I shook his hand, a very large hand, and told me he wanted to buy ice cream for the kids. It was then that I realized there were about 20 kids in that giggling gaggle, and I was working by myself! It must have taken me 30 minutes to get everyone their frozen custard, but, the kids, who under normal circumstances, would have loudly vocalized their impatience as I packed their cones, didn’t say a word; they were mesmerized. And so was I. Here, in front of me, was one of the most successful and controversial figures of my time. For a ‘kid’ of 19, that was pretty special.
But…at the time, and in the moment, Ali was vilified for his stance on the war and refusing to be inducted into the Army. In this act he had brought issues of race to the forefront. It seemed odd that a man who made his living beating people up would claim conscientious objector status with the draft board. Yet, he did. The boxing commission stripped him of his title. He gave up three of the prime years of his boxing career to stand for what he believed in. He lost millions of dollars and prestige. He also began to show the world that the “Louisville Lip,” as he was referred to early in his career (for all his brash talk), was someone much more than a boxer.
We know the ‘rest of the story.’ The once vilified became the revered. He suffered through Parkinson’s Disease over the last 30 plus years of his life. He also personified a person of peace and of encouragement. The great irony is that as he lost his greatest weapon (his ability to speak), he gained the ability to communicate, to reach people of all ages and belief systems. He became an influencer.
I loved Muhammad Ali as a boxer in his prime. He was smart, fast, and graceful. He was beautiful to watch. He wasn’t always beautiful to listen to. For most of his life I loved the man more than the boxer. He taught me a great deal about grace in the face of adversity. He taught me that, as he said, “The will had better be stronger than the skill.”
I wrote about ‘choice’ last time; about who you were choosing to become. Muhammad Ali chose to become great by following what he believed and treating everyone as his equal. I thank him that the adoration of my youth turned into valuable encouragement for how to live my life, and deal with adversity. Thank you, Mr. Ali. In many ways you were “The Greatest.”
To a better you…