"The Greatest" has passed away at 74. Many of us in the Baby Boomer generation have memories of Muhammad Ali going back half a century. My father never followed sports much, but boxing was the one exception. I recall one of those rare father-son sports moments when my dad took me to see The Super Fight, a fictional boxing match between Rocky Marciano and Muhammad Ali shot in 1969 where the result was based on probability formulas entered into a computer and shown once in theatres via another new technology: satellite. Marciano was the projected winner based on statistics from his prime.
I remember March 8, 1971, going skiing for the first time at Powder Ridge. After a series of backwards falls, this impatient bnovice called it a night and waited at the base for the two more experienced skiers to finish up. On the AM radio, sure enough, was the Frazier-Ali Fight of the Century when Joe Frazier took the heavyweight title. With that kind of entertainment, I didn't feel deprived of extra "ski time". Ali would come out on the winning end through most of his storied career but, win or lose, this man's bigger-than-life charisma would steal the show.
Muhammad Ali's fighting days would continue through the end of his life, battling the effects of Parkinson's Disease and promoting invaluable awareness in the fight against it. Mike, my best friend from high school who has Parkinson's himself, proves you don't have to be heavyweight champ to be a fighter with class. Mike once told me during Ali's controversial Vietnam War protest days, "They never should've taken away his title." He was right. As with so many stories of American exceptionalism, Ali proved it wasn't a matter of winning every battle. It is about perservering in what we stand for.
