Today, of course, Ali is widely respected as a spiritual and principled man whose public persona is even more memorable than his spotless boxing pedigree. In the early 1960s, though, when he first entered the public spotlight as Cassius Clay, a bragadocious black kid from Louisville, Kentucky, the public had no idea what to do with him. America, after all, was on the eve of a civil rights movement, and it was clear from an early stage the swaggering young Clay was much more than a boxing prodigy. He was also an entertainer with a racial agenda, and in a time of social upheaval, the natural reaction among white fans and the mainstream media was to vilify him.
Despite bragging about his greatness {“if you even dream of beating me, you’d better wake up and apologize”}, his quickness and power {“…float like a butterfly, sting like a bee…”}, and his beauty {“…and you know I’m so handsome”}, Clay’s actions in the ring gave him the right to talk. After 19 straight victories as a professional, Clay had become a heavyweight contender who, like a bad guy on the wrestling circuit, drew as much animosity as he did public interest. In February of 1964, he was scheduled to fight the reigning champion, Sonny Liston. The only problem was that Cassius Clay was on the verge of becoming Muhammad Ali, a fact that didn’t bode well for the fight’s promoter, Bill Faversham.
The fight itself was a see-saw affair that Clay won in strange fashion when Liston refused to answer the bell for the 7th round. While it may be true that Clay had been building steam as the fight wore on, for Sonny Liston to throw in the towel, and with it the heavyweight title, was a truly jaw-dropping moment.
In any case, on 25 February 1964, Cassius Clay became the Heavyweight Champion of the world; and the next day, he dropped his ‘slave name’, replaced it with Muhammad Ali, announced his affiliation with the Nation of Islam (a.k.a. the Black Muslims), and stated the following: “I believe in the religion of Islam. I believe in Allah and in peace…I’m not a Christian anymore.” And so it was; Muhammad Ali was born.
For the next few years, Ali defended his identity as well as his title. In 1967, after several title bouts, Ali fought Ernie Terrell in one of the more venomous matches the sport of boxing has ever seen. The fight took place at the Houston Astrodome, and after taunting Ali by referring to him as ‘Clay’, Ali spent 15 rounds pounding Terrell and shouting at him, “What’s my name, Uncle Tom? … What’s my name?” After the fight, it was widely speculated that Ali had allowed things to drag out by purposely not throwing any haymakers. Ali, who won 13 of the 15 rounds, had dominated the fight from beginning to end, and his demeanour in the ring seemed to suggest he wanted to take his time punishing Terrell for his transgression.
As the 1960s wore on, so too did the Vietnam War (1959 – 1975). In 1967, shortly after defending his name against Terrell, Ali stood up for his identity by refusing to serve his country. At the time, the war was in its eighth year and President Lyndon Johnson had greatly expanded the war effort in an attempt to end what was turning into a fiasco both on the ground and in the public eye, especially since it was the first war any public had seen through television. Similarly, Ali was one of the first athletes of the television era, and his charisma and charm, and knack for controversy, made him a media sensation.
Like his broadcasting sidekick Howard Cosell, Ali wasn’t afraid of using his pulpit of fame to preach his vision of the truth. And if nothing else, Ali was a perfect spokesman for the anti-war sentiment that was building all across the U.S. Ali’s stance, however, wasn’t exactly embraced by the American public. While some accepted and even applauded his position {which gave voice to the growing number of conscientious objectors}, he was also harshly criticized for stating his mind and refusing to serve his country.
If the advertising era has taught us anything in the forty or so years since Ali refused to go to war, it is that democracy in America has everything to do with what famous people think. So much now depends on the opinions of our heroes; and because the 1960s saw people like Ali use their pop-culture pulpits to drop the odd political bomb, people actually paid attention. “I ain’t got no quarrel against them Viet Cong,” Ali said in 1966, before being drafted, “they never called me nigger.”
Then, in April of 1967, during his induction into the U.S. Armed Forces, Ali backed up his words. Although he showed up for the ceremony, Ali refused to step forward when his name was called. As a result, he was arrested and prosecuted for draft evasion by the authorities {a.k.a. The Man}, persecuted by the public, and vilified by the media. His boxing license and heavyweight belt were revoked, and although he didn’t end up serving jail time, his willingness to sacrifice freedom as well as his boxing career was a profound statement about the relative insignificance of the sports world. In Ali’s self-affirming words, “I know where I’m going and I know the truth, and I don’t have to be what you want me to be. I’m free to be what I want.” Ironically, such statements helped to brand Ali as a traitor.
The public backlash Ali dealt with along the way also goes to show how difficult it is for celebrities to stand in the limelight and take a social stand. The media firestorm the Dixie Chicks encountered after they publicly criticized ex-President Bush comes to mind.
In an era of delinquent and grossly overpaid athletes, perhaps the greatest crime in the sports marketplace is the total failure of athletes, journalists, and broadcasters to talk about anything beyond the game. Can you imagine Tiger Woods declaring a personal moratorium on Nike products until his multi-million-dollar sponsor stops operating in sweat shops? Or how about Sidney Crosby refusing to take anything more than $1 million because anything more would be an insult to the toiling men and women of Steel City? Or how about a gay jock with the balls to stand up and talk proudly and profoundly about life in the locker room? Just imagine the power these young people could wield if only they believed in something beyond the myth of winning. {w}
Geoffrey Lansdell {contributor}