Tag: Muhammad Ali

  • Muhammad Ali’s iconic trunksfrom ‘Thrilla in Manila’tofetch $6m at auction

    Muhammad Ali’s iconic trunksfrom ‘Thrilla in Manila’tofetch $6m at auction

    The Thrilla in Manila’ was the rubber match between Muhammad Ali (left) and Joe Frazier after the pair had shared a win apiece in previous bouts

    The trunks worn by Muhammad Ali in his epic ‘Thrilla in Manila’ victory over Joe Frazier are expected to fetch more than $6m (£4.8m) at auction next week.

    Ali’s iconic white satin shorts went up for sale with renowned auction house Sotheby’s on Thursday – and the bidding has already reached $3.8m.

    The trunks, signed by Ali, were sold for $150,000 in 2012 but are likely to fetch 40 times that sum now.

    The auction runs at Sotheby’s New York branch until Friday 12 April.

    Read Also: Tyson faults Joshua on Muhammad Ali

    The ‘Thrilla in Manila’, which took place in October 1975 in the capital of the Philippines, is one of the seminal bouts in boxing history.

    As well as being signed by Ali, the Everlast trunks are also inscribed by his corner man, Drew ‘Bundini’ Brown, who died in 1988 – they fetched just $1,000 (£800) when auctioned after his death.

    Ali, one of sport’s legendary figures died in June 2016 at the age of 74 after living with Parkinson’s Disease for much of his post-boxing life, while Frazier passed away in 2011 at the age of 67.

  • Terrorists planned to bomb Abuja, six others – DSS

    Terrorists planned to bomb Abuja, six others – DSS

    The Department of State Services (DSS) said on Saturday suspected terrorists planned to unleash terror on six states and the Federal Capital Territory (FCT) during the Eid- Kabir celebration.

    DSS said the plot was spearheaded by Islamic State of West Africa terrorists whose aim was to disrupt the Eid-Kabir celebration.

    It added that the plan was to conduct gun attacks and suicide bombings on FCT, Kano, Kaduna, Niger, Bauchi, Yobe and Borno States.

    Spokesperson for the DSS, Tony Opuiyo, who disclosed these in a statement, named one Husseini Mai-Tangaran as mastermind of the plan.

    He said the suspect had been on DSS and Nigeria Army radar since 2012, when he allegedly spearheaded the armed attacks on the office of the Assistant Inspector General of Police in charge of Zone I, on January 20, 2012, as well as other public places in Kano.

    The statement said: “Mai-Tangaran was also responsible for the deadly explosive attacks against worshippers at the Kano Central Mosque as well as an attack on a military formation in Yobe State in 2015, which claimed many of lives.

    “The suspect was arrested in Kano on August 31 and further exploitation led to the arrest of one Abdulkadir Mohammed by the Service on September 2, at Kantin Kwari Market, Fagge, Kano.

    “Mohammed was a fighter of the sect who left the conclave of the group in the Sambisa forest, to join ranks with Ismaila towards carrying out the attacks being planned by the group.

    “Also, another accomplice in the plot, one Muhammad Ali, was arrested on September 3, at Sheka area in Kumbotso area of the state.

    “Prior to his arrest, Ali was the financial courier of the group in Kano. He was one of the conduits through which funds and other material logistics were channeled to the group from foreign extremist elements/sponsors.”

  • Mohammed Ali junior raises alarm: I am broke!

    Mohammed Ali junior raises alarm: I am broke!

     

    Muhammad Ali, Jr, the only biological son of the American boxing great who died a year ago, says that he is broke and almost homeless.

    Ali, 45, said that he has received just three ‘measly payments’ of $2,500 in the last two months.

    He claims that he is just days away from being forced to live on the street and that he has been sleeping on the floor of a friend’s home in Florida, the Mirror reported on Sunday.

    Following his death, reports emerged indicating that the boxing legend and civil rights icon had left his $80million fortune to be divided evenly amongst his nine children.

    Insiders claimed the family were locked in a bitter feud after it was revealed that Lonnie, his fourth wife, is due to receive double the $6 million inheritance awarded his kids.

    Sources claimed many of the children – who they claimed hated each other anyway – were left ‘seething.’

    Before his father’s death, Ali, Jr, and his uncle, Muhammad Ali’s younger brother, Rahman, have accused others in the extended family of cruelly leaving them in varying degrees of financial hardship as Ali and Lonnie lived in the lap of luxury.

    Ali, Jr, told the Mirror on Sunday that he, his seven sisters, and his adopted brother, Asaad, all came to an agreement that the inheritance would be divided equally among them.

    Lonnie, his 59-year-old stepmother and the will’s executor, also took part in the meeting, it was reported.

    So far, however, Ali, Jr, says he has yet to receive his agreed-upon share.

    ‘It looks like I’ve just been cut off completely. I don’t have a bank account, so they’ve had to wire money to me,’ he said.

    ‘It’s been a rough year. This isn’t what my dad would have wanted. He would have wanted me to be OK, have a place to stay, have my money.

    ‘I’m going to live off water now, as that’s all I can afford. Getting food is hard, as I don’t have a cent to my name.

    ‘I just find a way somehow to get food each day. I’ve got nowhere I call home anymore.’

    When asked if he was scared at the prospect of being homeless, he said: ‘I don’t care where I sleep at, as long as I sleep.’

    Ali, Jr had been living on the poverty line for the last decade in one of the toughest neighbourhoods on Chicago’s notorious South Side.

    In his last interview just before his father died, he admitted that he didn’t even care what happened to his father and has been looking after his grandfather from his mother’s side, who ironically also has Parkinson’s.

    Days after his father died and reports indicated he was about to inherit $6million, Ali, Jr’s then-wife, Shaakira Ali, said that her husband walked out on her and their two daughters.

    Reports have suggested that Muhammad Jr has struggled with addiction to crack cocaine, marijuana and heroin.

  • Muhammad Ali’s son detained at US airport over Arabic-sounding name

    ASON of boxing legend Muhammad Ali was held for questioning for two hours at a Florida airport upon returning from Jamaica because of his Arabic-sounding name, US media reported late Friday.

    Muhammad Ali Jr., 44, who was born in Philadelphia and has a US passport, was travelling with his mother Khalilah Camacho-Ali, the late sports icon’s second wife, friend and lawyer Chris Mancini told the Louisville Courier-Journal.

    Mancini told the newspaper that both were held for questioning on the Fort Lauderdale International Airport on February 7 because of their Arabic-sounding names.

    Camacho-Ali however was released after she showed US Customs agents a photo of herself with her ex-husband.

    Ali Jr. however had no such photo  and according to Mancini was held for nearly two hours and repeatedly asked “Where did you get your name from?” and “Are you Muslim?”

    When he said that he  like his father  was a Muslim, the agents asked further probing questions.

    “To the Ali family, it’s crystal clear that this is directly linked to Mr. Trump’s efforts to ban Muslims from the United States,” Mancini told the Courier-Journal, a reference to President Donald Trump’s late January executive order imposing a 90-day entry ban for citizens of seven Muslim majority countries.

    The travel ban has since been halted by a US federal court. Mancini said that he and the Ali family are trying to find out how many other people were stopped for similar questioning, and are considering a federal lawsuit. Airport and Customs officials did not answer queries from the newspaper about the case. Muhammad Ali, one of the iconic 20th century sports heroes, died after a long battle with Parkinson’s Disease on June 3.

    He was 74. Ali was celebrated as much for his three world heavyweight titles as for his civil rights battles outside the ring. In 1964 Ali dropped his birth name of Cassius Clay when he converted to Islam. The Louisville, Kentucky native was married four times he was survived by seven daughters and two sons.

  • Muhammad Ali and the invention of boxing

    Muhammad Ali and the invention of boxing

    What would the world have been without its geniuses and exceptional talents? Human history would have been a dull monotony of uninspiring facts. Humanity itself would have been gravely endangered by its sheer ordinariness and the unmitigated evil of banality. Civilization owes its dazzling triumphs over nature, its remarkable strides towards self-actualization to these gifted game-changers. Without them, the world would have been a poorer place indeed.

    These extraordinary men and women worked so hard at their game that you would think their life depended on it. In most instances, it actually did. They can be an uncomfortable troubling reality; a fearsome nuisance. Simply because they rupture reality as we know it, or challenge conventional norms and established practice as routinely perceived, they are often subject to hardship, persecution and even the occasional violent death.

    The often fatal contradiction between visionary genius and apprehensive society was succinctly put by the late American writer, John Kennedy Toole himself echoing another major contrarian, Jonathan Swift. Toole should have known. After unsuccessfully hawking the manuscript of his novel to various publishers for eleven years, the poor chap committed suicide only to be posthumously lionized and feted in absentia by American society. According to him: “When a true genius appears in the world, you may know him by this sign, the dunces are all in confederacy against him”. (A Confederacy of Dunces).

    Human nature is naturally and stupendously wasteful. The oceanic plenitude of time and the sheer prodigality of human possibilities allow for this relentless wastage of human and other resources. But somehow, we always manage to come back to our senses and pay handsomely for the initial error of judgement. At the end of it all, the sacrifices of genius are appreciated by a grateful and contrite humanity and they assume their rightful place in the pantheon of heroes.

    This past weekend, the world said goodbye to one of such extraordinary people. The human race stood still as Mohammad Ali exchanged mortality for immortality. It was a parting reserved for kings and the very greatest of the human breed. The man famously known as the Louisville Lip would have been nodding in bemused acknowledgement. Supremely self-confident, self-irony was a stranger to him. For decades, he had shouted himself hoarse from the roof top that he was the greatest . Now, wasn’t he?  And yet he was just a boxer, or was he?

    Unarguably the greatest boxer of all time, the former Cassius Clay was also one of the most serially endowed personalities of the epoch: a poet marked by genius, a talented dramatist and a gifted orator. Had he given much thought and time to it, Ali would have been an extraordinary political practitioner. Like his beloved country, the 1960 Olympics Light Heavyweight Champion and three times Heavyweight Champion of the world was a master of the art of ceaseless self-renewal and creative explorer of the limits of human possibilities in punitive exertions.

    Mohammad Ali invented modern boxing by reinventing the ancient art of fistic confrontation.  Before him, boxing was a mere blood sports of two men pummeling each other unto death on a blood splattered canvas. With him, it became a game of refined violence and consummate intelligence   combining stunning physical coordination with acute mental awareness. It was the invention of total boxing: bobbing and weaving with your fists, your tongue, your eyes, your legs and your brains. The lion may be stronger than Androcles but Androcles is smarter. The brain is mightier than brawns.

    Here is one of God’s gifts to humanity. We leave it to the authority of Norman Mailer, the great American writer and a boxing aficionado himself, who once dumped Gore Vidal on a pile of pudding in a nasty spat. Mailer wrote two great books on Mohammed Ali’s epic duels. According to him, these fistic contentions could no longer be described as boxing. They were gladiatorial chess enacted at the highest and most refined level of human intelligence.

    If Mohammad Ali had left it at that, he would still have made the galaxy of avatars as one of the most extraordinary prize fighters of all time. But Ali was much more than a boxer. He was a moral genius and supreme political hero who proudly and stoutly refused to follow the American dominant collective to do evil, and at a time when it was particularly dangerous and feckless to do so. In doing so, the poor nigger of Louisville, who was neither a card-carrying intellectual nor a professional political philosopher, redefined the very concept of modern citizenship and its obligations to a fumbling and faltering super-security state.

    Nobody ought to have doubted Ali’s sterling patriotism and intense nationalism. He ate America and breathed America. At the 1960 Olympics Games where he took the gold medal barely out of High School, the then Cassius Clay let it be known to everybody within and without earshot that he did it for his beloved country. According to eyewitnesses, for two weeks of the games, the boy from Kentucky State wore his gold medal as a badge of honour and affection for his country.

    Half a decade later, the Lip of Louisville had gone on to spectacular fame and fortune as the undisputed Heavyweight Champion of the world with the uncanny knack for predicting when his opponent would fall and managing in the process to dump the monstrous mobster, Sonny Liston, on the canvas twice. A boxing superstar had arrived at the American supermarket.

    For the first Liston fight, Ali was a rank outsider by 7-1. Everybody thought that the menacing hulk with a fearsome reputation as a doyen and denizen of the American under-world was going to take the loquacious fellow apart and make a mince meat of him. Even Ali’s own handlers had failed to organize a victory party. They probably thought that if there was going to be a gathering at all, it would probably be an all night vigil at Ali’s hospital bedside praying for his survival.

    But something was beginning to happen to boxing as they all knew it. It was no longer a duel of brute force but an imaginative tour de force of elaborate bluff and bluster; a cerebral game in which the opponent is first psychologically destroyed before being physically and clinically dismantled. It was no longer about bare knuckle physical savagery and joyous bloodletting but a triumph of refined mind over vulgar strength. The wildest animal can be tamed and domesticated by superior human intelligence.

    But if this was Ali’s hour of gold, it was also America’s hour of lead—to borrow from the title of Charles Lindbergh memorable memoir. An ethical and moral lacuna had opened up in God’s own country. The Vietnam War was raging and consuming everything. The nation found itself in a double bind. The IQ requirement for enlistment was lowered and Ali became eligible for war service to his nation. A draft was issued.

    Ali chose to fight rather than to flee, risking everything in the process. Ali flatly refused to be drafted to war on the ground of being a conscientious objector. The uppity upstart has finally got his comeuppance, or so it seemed. Tempers were inflamed along racial lines in America. Revulsion against the great prize fighter rose and Ali was summarily stripped of his title and banished to the dungeon of the unworthy. He became an object of hate-filled messages.

    But the great boxer was not going to be fazed by all this. He had faced greater hostility in the ring and triumphed. To those who saw him as a traitor and draft dodger, Ali famously retorted: “I ain’t got no problem with them Vietcong. Them don’t call me nigger”. It was a mortal rebuff and moral reproach to an America that has failed to face its own inner demons while seeking to lord it over other nations.

    Like the doughty and redoubtable fighter that he was, Ali fought on, losing so much but gaining global respect and admiration for his heroic stance. He had become a pariah in a country he loved and admired so much. His inability to practise his trade caused him so much trauma and private pains. But after an epic legal slugfest the American Supreme Court eventually ruled in his favour.

    There is as yet no perfect human society. We must give it to America that it is a land of ceaseless self-surpassing and unrelenting self-interrogation which allow it to come to term with its own moral absurdities. It is a wonderful trick for national rejuvenation. Yet in the particular case of Mohammad Ali, there are those who argue that the damage had already been done, that he was only allowed back into the ring after he was past his glorious prime and after his  superhuman reflexes had been dulled by humiliation and adversity.

    This is neither here nor there. For it can also be argued that it was the memory of injustice and humiliation that allowed Ali to summon deep reserves of courage and resilience when they mattered most and against the physical ferocity of stronger opponents leaving us with classics of human exertion such as the “rumble in the jungle” and “thrilla in Manila”. Ali showed us the elastic limits of the human capacity to absorb physical punishment. It was ritual suicide by installment.

    Ali had taken enough blows to fell even a stubborn elephant. But for thirty two years, he bore the resultant affliction with great dignity and Olympian pride. It was his longest bout and it showed in the charred hulk of a once magnificent physique. When the hour of the grim reaper finally came, it was a grateful nation that mourned and buried one of its greatest sons ever. Ali had died the way he would have wished: an all-American hero and a global icon. He didn’t need to tell us that. He had earned his spurs. Human beauty has triumphed over human bestiality.

  • Muhammad Ali ‘The Greatest’ makes his final journey

    Muhammad Ali ‘The Greatest’ makes his final journey

    Louisville,USA— Muhammad Ali made his final journey through his hometown yesterday — past the little pink house where he grew up and the museum that bears his name — as thousands of mourners along the route pumped their fists and chanted, “Ali! Ali!” for the former heavyweight champion of the world known simply as The Greatest. A hearse bearing Ali’s cherry-red casket, draped in an Islamic tapestry, arrived at Louisville’s Cave Hill Cemetery in a long line of black limousines after a 19-mile drive via Muhammad Ali Boulevard that was both somber and exuberant. “He stood up for himself and for us, even when it wasn’t popular,” said Ashia Powell, waiting at a railing for the hearse to pass by on an interstate highway below. A private graveside service was held in the afternoon, and was followed by a grand memorial service attended by more than 15,000 people, including former President Bill Clinton and comedian Billy Crystal. Ali, the most magnetic and controversial athlete of the 20th century, died penultimate Friday at 74 after a long battle with Parkinson’s disease. The casket was loaded into a hearse outside a funeral home as a group of pallbearers that included former boxers Mike Tyson and Lennox Lewis and actor Will Smith filed out, along with Ali’s nine children, his wife, two of his ex-wives and other family members. As the limousines rolled past on the way to the cemetery, fans chanted like spectators at one of his fights, stood on cars, held up cell phones and signs, ran alongside the hearse and reached out to touch it. They tossed so many flowers onto the windshield that the driver had to pull some of them off to see the road. Others fell silent and looked on reverently as the champ went by. “To me, he was a legend to this city and an example to people. I’m just glad to be part of this history, of saying goodbye,” said Takeisha Benedict, wearing an orange “I Am Ali” T-shirt. “Opening it up and allowing us to be part of it, we’re so appreciative.” Among the hundreds gathered outside the funeral home was Mike Stallings, of Louisville, who brought his two young sons to bid farewell to the sports legend who grew up in Louisville as Cassius Clay. “I’ve been crying all week,” he said. “As big as he was he never looked down on people. He always mingled among the crowds.” Ali chose the cemetery as his final resting place a decade ago. Its 130,000 graves represent a who’s who of Kentucky, including Kentucky Fried Chicken founder Colonel Harland Sanders. Family spokesman Bob Gunnell said he will have a simple headstone, inscribed only “Ali,” in keeping with Islamic tradition. A traditional Muslim funeral service was held Thursday, with an estimated 6,000 admirers arriving from all over the world. Ali himself decided years ago that his funeral would be open to ordinary fans, not just VIPs. As a result, thousands of free tickets were made available and were snatched up within an hour. Louisville is accustomed to being in the limelight each May during the Kentucky Derby. But the send-off for the three-time heavyweight champion and global ambassador for international understanding represented one of the city’s most historic events. “We’ve all been dreading the passing of the champ, but at the same time we knew ultimately it would come,” Mayor Greg Fischer said. “It was selfish for us to think that we could hold on to him forever. Our job now, as a city, is to send him off with the class and dignity and respect that he deserves.” President Barack Obama was unable to make the trip because of his daughter Malia’s high school graduation. Rumors that Donald Trump would attend were quashed yesterday morning when Gunnell said the Republican presidential candidate called Ali’s wife, Lonnie, to inform her that he was unable to make it. Tyson was added at the last moment to the list of pallbearers. Gunnell said that Tyson was upset about Ali’s death and wasn’t sure if he could handle the memorial, but ended up catching a late flight. People gathered early in the day outside Ali’s boyhood home, which was decorated with balloons, flags, flowers and posters. Fans took photos of themselves in front of the house. Some people staked out their places nearby with lawn chairs. The Ali Center stopped charging admission. A sightseeing company began tours of Ali’s path through the city. Businesses printed his quotes across their billboards. City buses flashed “Ali — The Greatest” in orange lights. A downtown bridge will be illuminated the rest of the week in red and gold: red for his boxing gloves, gold for his Olympic medal. “Everybody feels a sense of loss with Ali’s passing,” said Mustafa Abdush-Shakur, who traveled from Connecticut. “But there’s no need to be sad for him. We’re all going to make that trip.”

  • For Muhammad Ali

    For Muhammad Ali

    WHOEVER knew it would end like this when you first ebbed in the ring Already golden from your love fest your country called for a warfare more cruel than the punch fare where you, an Olympian, stepped to gold

    You said no To blood field, nodded race feud Vetted Vietnam, made Ohio River sleek With your Olympic gold, twitted the courts A hero without a crowd

    The end loomed with five year sentence A loom looking like a weave into oblivion No family, no race, no country, no law For comfort You leaped in a dark that only a destiny Saw

    Saw you in rope a dope Thrilla in Manilla, rumbling in the jungle Where you a punch-drunk Adonis spun cheers garlanded blood You wrote stories within a story Faith within race, black asserting pride Against black as against white A race for dignity A rainbow blow Pugilist for justice First couched as bigot But today a spigot

    awash

    With universal love and brotherhood Highlighted that Atlanta crest Where your trembling hand Parkinson defiant Lit the torch that soared as high as Olympus The height you now float, butterfly-like, In a gold dust of memory

  • Muhammad Ali… Rest easy brother

    AS the news of the passing of a hero broke on this sad June day, the heartbreak and sadness felt by many of us had to be juggled by the stoical sense of realism in the knowledge that a critically ill man, who had dedicated the vast majority of his life to being one of the ‘greatest’ men the world has ever seen could finally be laid to rest. Muhammad Ali was an international figure, loved by most, admired by even those who opposed and fought him. In his life and even in his death, he has impacted the world and set the tone for being a citizen of the world for all generations. While his passing had been expected for a long time coming, the loss of this great man, athlete and icon was one that those who loved him were still unprepared for. As I watch all the accolades from world leaders and ordinary folk on TV celebrating Muhammad Ali’s life and legacy, I also reflect on the key lessons that his life and example offers me as a person. At the peak of his career Mohammed Ali delighted audiences with his charisma, excess skill and humor but Parkinson’s had rendered him virtually powerless and robbed this most verbose and loquacious of men his physical co-ordination and speech. However no matter how bad his illness got, his dignity never failed to shine through. Muhammad Ali was born Cassius Clay. He began to box at the age of 12 after an incident in which his bike was stolen. Hurt by the theft, he vowed to “whup” whoever stole his bike. A local policeman cautioned him and advised him to “learn how to box” before carrying out his threat. Within weeks he trained, boxed and won fights. He had 108 successful amateur bouts before his 18th birthday and in 1960 Cassius Clay won the Olympic gold medal in Rome. Due to the segregation of blacks in Southern America during that time, Cassius was refused service at a local restaurant despite his Olympic achievement. This fuelled his ambition to succeed and reach out to minorities. The ultimate glory came when, against the odds, he defeated Sony Liston to emerge heavyweight champion of the world in 1964. While training for that title bout, he announced to the world that he was a member of the Nation of Islam and that his name was Cassius X, latter to be changed to Muhammad Ali. The response to this news was negative but it never stopped him from wavering, sticking to his beliefs or even joking about it. Whenever he was asked about his attachment to Islam, Ali joked that he was going to have four wives: one to shine his shoes, one to feed him grapes, one to rub oil on his muscles and one named Peaches. In 1967, as the Vietnam War was escalating, Ali was called up for induction into the armed services. He refused induction on the grounds of religious beliefs. Typically in a joking manner he said “I done wrestled with an alligator; I done tussled with a whale; Clean out my cell and take my tail to jail; ‘Cause better to be in jail fed than to be in Vietnam dead” and latter he declared “I ain’t got no quarrel with them Vietcong”. The national anger over the last comment combined with Ali’s refusal to go into the armed services caused the authorities to cancel his boxing licenses. He was convicted, stripped of his championship title, his passport confiscated and he faced a 5-year prison term. Eventually after 2 ½ years, the Supreme Court reversed his conviction and restored his license. This action elevated him into a champion even more than before because he was the first national figure to speak out against the war in Vietnam. Among the highlights of his career lays the ‘rumble in the jungle’; a fight between him and a fearsome champion George Foreman in Kinshasa, Zaire. Before the match, in his usual boastful manner, Ali predicted “To prove I’m great he will fall in eight”. And true to his word in the 8th round Foreman was knocked out of the match. To his credit, Ali became the first man to win the world heavyweight title three times. He revolutionized boxing by pioneering a style that went against many of the game’s consecrated traditions. By the end of his career, Ali had fought an impressive 6.1 bouts with 56 wins (37 by knockout) and 5 defeats (1 knockout). Shortly after his retirement he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease and has been battling it ever since. Before Muhammed Ali started boxing the sport was largely controlled by the mob but he came along and defended it as a sport. He gave this most uncompromising of sports beauty, grace, style, magnetism, humour, class, sheer excitement and he fought with emotion and heart. In his usual stubborn way he refused to adhere to the conventional way of boxing and told the establishment “I don’t have to be what you want me to be; I’m free to be what I want”. In the ring Ali used a method that flouted boxing logic; for one he had arm reach and used it so that he didn’t have to get close enough for his opponent to hit him. Additionally his powerful legs allowed him to dance, shuffle and float in the ring. The ‘Ali shuffle’, a foot manoeuvre invented by him allowed him to elevate himself and sometimes deliver a blow while dancing. At the time when his career bloomed, boxers never talked to the media but Ali disregarded this by boasting and predicting matches in a very public, bragging and poetic manner. In a rhyme that latter came to define his mode and manner in the ring Ali said of himself “I float like a butterfly, I sting like a bee; his hands can’t hit what his eyes can’t see.” Floating, stinging, striking, winning or rhyming Ali has today emerged as the world’s most adored athlete. His actions outside of the boxing ring continue to speak volumes. In his journey he risked everything; his standing, his title, his achievements and his livelihood yet he managed to surface as a hero and a man of principle for all time. He has always stood up for his beliefs, loves children and respects women. He was a super, super star, confident, smug and incredibly handsome. Ali will always be a great inspiration to mankind as a whole and black people in particular; we can all learn a great deal from him. He gave people hope and proved that anyone could overcome insurmountable odds to achieve their dream. Since his retirement from the ring Ali had been a relentless advocate for people in need, having delivered millions of dollars in food and medical relief to third world countries and raising in excess of $100 million for charities throughout the world. For the last three decades the terrible disease that dogged Ali had done its share of crippling him, but he fought and refused to let it beat him. He continued to fight Parkinson’s disease with the same courage and determination he brought to the ring and to his work aimed at alleviating poverty, hunger and intolerance. Whether one followed his career or not or agreed with his political views and lifestyle, there is no arguing the fact that Muhammed Ali was a spectacularly unique and fascinating person. For a very traditional Hausa/Fulani girl, from a rural African village in North Western Nigeria to be so moved by him that she developed an interest in the sport of boxing says a lot about his ability to inspire from afar. I am often asked why and when I began to develop an interest in writing. It may surprise some to know that my interest in writing and style was actually ignited by Muhammed Ali. When I started writing, I started by writing poetry and spoken word pieces inspired by Muhammed Ali’s poetry and spoken word. Often, before or after a match or during interviews, Muhammed Ali, a keen poet, would express himself in rhyme form and he would tell stories in the wittiest way using poems. For instance, when he was about to fight Joe Frazier he summed up his predictions in an interview when he rhymed, “Joe’s going to come out smoking. But I ain’t gonna be joking. I’ll be picking and poking, pouring water on his smoking. This might shock and amaze ya. But I’m gonna destroy Joe Frazier.” Then after the “Thrilla In Manila” fight with the same Frazier he said, “It will be a Killer, And a chiller, And a thrilla. When I get the gorilla in Manila.” Watching him perform was the most remarkable and entertaining thing ever and it was a form of expression that I immediately clung to and tried to emulate. This interest I had in the way he recited poetry led to me writing stories using the same rhyming format and this invariably led to other forms of writing. As weird as it sounds, today, I can honestly say that it is largely to Muhammed Ali’s credit that I write. He was an incredibly remarkable personality and his story should never stop being told to generations who may not be aware of the story of this one man who was the epitome of brilliance, humor, spirit and will power. He touched the world and in return the likes of myself will always love him from the bottom of our hearts. Muhammed Ali was a personal hero to me and I, like millions across the world, loved him dearly. I thank him for representing so many things in so many people’s lives and for instilling in me the love of poetry and freestyle rhymes. How does one comprehensively describe the story of a man like Muhammed Ali? Well, one needn’t go far because in his own words Ali once said of his story “This is the legend of Muhammad Ali, the greatest fighter that ever will be. He talks a great deal and brags indeed of a powerful punch and blinding speed. But I think more appropriately Ali was, is and will always be; that which he proclaimed to be- the greatest! I offer my heartfelt prayers and condolence to all of Late Muhammad Ali’s family, friends and fans. He will be so sorely missed by so many. My thoughts and prayers are with all those who feel the pain that I feel now. “INNA LILLAHI WA INNA ILAYHI RAJI’UN… …Oh Allah, our dear brother, Muhammad Ali is under Your care and protection so protect him from the trial of the grave and torment of the Fire. Indeed You are faithful and truthful. Forgive and have mercy upon him, surely You are The Oft-Forgiving, The Most-Merciful… …Oh Allah, forgive and have mercy upon Muhammad Ali. Excuse him and pardon him, and make honorable his reception. Expand his entry and cleanse him with water, snow and ice, and purify him of sin as a white robe is purified of filth. Admit him into the Garden; protect him from the punishment of the grave and the torment of the fire… …Oh Allah, Your servant and the son of Your maidservant, Muhammad Ali, is in need of Your mercy and You are without need of his punishment. If he was righteous then increase his reward and if he was wicked then overlook his sins.” “Rest easy brother… Peace onto you.”

  • Muhammad Ali at the Ring-side, 1985

    Muhammad Ali at the Ring-side, 1985

    The arena is darkened. A feast of blood

    Will follow duly; the spotlights have been borrowed

    For a while. These ringside prances

    Merely serve to whet the appetite. Gladiators,

    Clad tonight in formal mufti, customized,

    Milk recognition, savour the night-off,

    Show off Rites.

     

    Ill fitted in this voyeur company

    The desperate arm wrap of the tiring heart

    Gives place to social hugs, the slow count

    One to ten to a snappy “Give me five!”

    Toothpaste grins replace the death-mask

    Rubber gumshield  grimaces. Promiscuous

    Peck–a-cheek supplants the maestro’s peek-a-boo.

     

    The roped arena waits; an umpire tests the floor,

    Tests the whiplash boundaries of the rope.

    The gallants’ exhibition rounds possess

    These foreplay rounds. Gloves in silk-white sheen

    Rout lint and leather. Paco Rabanne rules the air.

    A tight-arsed soubriette checks her placard smile

    To sign the rounds for blood and gore.

     

    Eased from the navel of Bitch-Mother Fame

    A microphone, neck-ruffed silver filigree – as one

    Who would usurp the victor’s garland — stabs the air

    For instant prophesies. In cosy insulation, bathed

    In tele-glow, distant homes have built

    Their own vicarious rings – the forecast claimed

    Four million viewers on the cable deal alone;

    Much “bread” was loaded on the scales

    At weighing hour – till scores are settled. One

     

    Will leave the fickle womb tonight

    Smeared in combat fluids, a broken foetus.

    The other, toned in fire, a dogged phoenix

    Oblivious of the slow countdown of inner hurts

    Will thrust his leaden fists in air

    Night prince of the world of dreams.

     

    One sits still. His silence is a dying count.

    At last the lens acknowledges the tested

    Hulk that dominates, even in repose,

    The giddy rounds of furs and diamond pins.

    A brief salute – the camera is kind –

    Discreetly pans, and masks the doubletalk

    Of medicine men – “Has the syndrome

    But not the consequence.” Promoters, handlers

    It’s time to throw in the towel – Parkinson’s

    Polysyllables have failed to tease a rhyme

    From the once nimble Louisville Lips.

     

    The camera flees, distressed. But not before

    The fire of battle flashes in those eyes

    Rekindled by the moment’s urge to centre stage.

    He rules the night space even now, bestrides

    The treacherous domain with thighs of bronze,

    A dancing mural of delights. Oh Ali! Ale-e-e…

     

    What music hurts the massive head tonight, Ali!

    The drums, the tin cans, the guitars and mbira of Zaire?

    Aa-lee! Aa-lee Bomaye!

    The Rumble in the Jungle? Beauty and the Beast?

    Roll call of Bum-a-Month. The rope-a-dope?

    The Thrilla in Manilla? – Ah-lee! Ah-lee!

    “The  closest thing to death”, you said. Was that

    The greatest, saddest prophecy of all? Oh, Ali!

     

    Black tarantula whose antics hypnotize the foe!

    Butterfly side slipping death from rocket probes.

    Bee whose sting, unsheathed, picks the teeth

    Of the raging hippopotamus, then fans

    The jaws’ convergence with its flighty wings.

    Needle that threads the snapping fangs

    Of crocodiles, knots the tusks of elephants

    On rampage. Cricket that claps and chirrups

    Round the flailing horn of the rhinoceros,

    Then shuffles, does a bugaloo, tap-dances on its tip.

    Space that yields, then drowns the intruder

    In showers of sparks – oh Ali! Ali!

     

    Esu with faces turned to all four compass points

    Astride a weather vane; they sought to trap him,

    Slapped the wind each time. He brings a message—

    All know the messenger, the neighbourhood is roused –

    Yet no one sees his face, he waits for no reply,

    Only that combination three-four calling card,

    The wasp-tail legend: I’ve been here and gone.

     

    Mortar that goads the pestle: do you call that

    Pounding? The yam is not yet smooth –

    Pound, dope, pound! When I have eaten the yam,

    I’ll chew the fibre that once called itself

    A pestle! Warrior who said, “I will not fight”.

    And proved a prophet’s call to arms against a war.

     

    Cassius Marcellus, Warrior, Muhammed Prophet,

    Flesh is clay, all, all too brittle mould.

    The bout is over. Frayed and split and autographed,

    The gloves are hung up in the Hall of Fame –

    Still loaded, even from that first blaze of gold

    And glory. Awed multitudes will gaze,

    New questers feast on these mementos

    And from their shell-shocked remnants

    Re-invoke the spell.

     

    But the sorcerer is gone,

    The lion withdrawn to a lair of time and space

    Inaccessible as the sacred lining of a crown

    When kings were kings, and lords of rhyme and pace.

    The enchantment is over but, the spell remains.

  • Muhammad Ali (1942 – 2016)

    Muhammad Ali (1942 – 2016)

    •The world mourns the exit of The Greatest 

    His glorious sporting career was defined by perhaps his most famous quote describing his pugilistic style: “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.” By the time he died on June 3 at age 74, Muhammad Ali, the boxer who called himself “The Greatest”, was widely acknowledged as a sport legend.

    Ali beat every top heavyweight in his era, which is rated as the golden age of heavyweight boxing. He had a place in the International Boxing Hall of Fame and Hollywood Walk of Fame. He was celebrated as Sportsman of the Century by Sports Illustrated and Sports Personality of the Century by BBC. Ali was the only three-time “lineal world heavyweight champion”, having won the title in 1964, 1974, and 1978.

    In 2001, he was presented with the Presidential Citizens Medal by U.S. President Bill Clinton. Also, he was in 2005 decorated with the Presidential Medal of Freedom by U.S. President George W. Bush. This high-profile award, America’s highest honour for civilians, is given to  individuals who have made “an especially meritorious contribution to the security or national interests of the United States, world peace, cultural or other significant public or private endeavours.” In the same year, Ali received the Otto Hahn Peace Medal in Gold of the UN Association of Germany (DGVN) in Berlin for his work with the U.S. civil rights movement and the United Nations.

    The story of how he became a boxer is fascinating for its serendipitous flavour. A Louisville police officer and boxing coach Joe E. Martin had suggested that Ali, then known as Cassius Clay,  should learn how to box after the then 12-year-old boy lost his bicycle to a thief who he threatened to “whup”.

    His boxing record is a testimony to his boxing artistry. Following his amateur boxing debut in 1954, Clay won the Light Heavyweight gold medal in the 1960 Olympics in Rome. His amateur record was 100 wins with five losses. At age 22 in 1964, he shocked and shook the boxing world by defeating a reigning heavyweight champion, Sonny Liston, a major upset that signalled the emergence of a phenomenal boxing giant. Out of 61 professional fights, he won 56, 37 by knock out, and lost five.

    It was soon after the Liston fight that Clay changed his name to Muhammad Ali to reflect his conversion to Islam. In dramatic circumstances, Ali was in 1966 stripped of his title following his refusal to serve in America’s armed forces based on his opposition to the Vietnam War. As a conscientious objector, he paid the price. As a result of his ban and his fight for restoration, he did not box for over three years from March 1967 to October 1970. This break was disruptive, and it is a credit to Ali that he was able to rise above the disruption to reclaim his title.

    Three remarkable fights in the 1970s secured Ali’s fame: “Fight of the Century, “Super Fight II” and “Thrilla in Manila” versus Joe Frazier; and “The Rumble in the Jungle” versus George Foreman.

    Known as “The Louisville Lip”, Ali was equally notable for his silver tongue and titillating wit. Indeed, he was a poet of sorts, and regularly came up with poetic lines that spiced up his fights.

    But Ali was more than a boxer, and was larger than sports. He used his sporting platform for activism, particularly against racial prejudice, and in favour of social justice. He was black and proud. In a striking tribute, American President Barack Obama said: “We admire the man who has never stopped using his celebrity for good.”

    Ali exhibited great grace in his decades-long battle with Parkinson’s disease, and perhaps the ultimate tribute to him is the global outpouring of grief that greeted his passing.