Defend, defend, defend. Attack!
It remains one of the most memorable television adverts of the last few years, but only because the subject at the heart of it just happened to be one of the greatest. Scratch that, actually. Muhammad Ali was The Greatest.
Now that his giant flame has finally been put out, the world has stopped to reflect on a life that changed those of billions, be it with a punch, a phrase, a look, or any other manifestation of one of the most infectious personalities that ever lived.
Most of us were not alive when the Rumble in the Jungle or the Thriller in Manila occurred, and certainly not when Ali defied the mightiest nation on earth, dropped his slave name - Cassius Clay, and became an activist whose words were only beaten in the sharp stakes by his lightning left hand.
Many of us were not alive then, but we know the stories well, better even than some of those who huddled around radio stations, listening to history being made in the then Zaire, with the beautiful backdrop of African rain and Ali Bomaye - as the soundtrack.
The sight of Will Smith’s re-enactment of Ali’s career gives you goose-bumps as he runs through the dusty neighbourhoods of Africa.
We can only imagine what it must have felt like to be one of those boys and girls jogging alongside him, giddy at the sheer cheek of it all.
That was perhaps Ali’s greatest gift; his ability to enrich the lives of even the most destitute with a single gesture. We know all this because legends have a magic about them that is timeless. We craved to know why the name Ali was so mighty, why he dared to call himself The Greatest. “I must be the greatest!” he roared, and the world nodded in agreement.
Today, there are many who lay claim to being great, in whatever sport. Floyd Money Mayweather insists he is the greatest of all time, on the basis of an unbeaten record and hundreds of millions in the bank.
Defined
Thankfully, history will note that greatness is not merely defined by the millions you make, but by the billions of hearts you touch.
In that league, Ali is on his own. His defeats actually made him greater still, and made the world love him even more, for he was still one of us. Far from just being an excellent boxer, he rose to become one of the most respected voices that the world craved to hear. He didn’t just talk a big game, of course.
Long before it was comfortable to do so, Ali put religious diversity and the need to respect the belief of others on the front page.
He, the greatest sportsman of his time - of all time - risked his lucrative career in the process, but even then he knew that he had the power and, therefore, the responsibility to make a difference.
There are priceless clips of him on many a talk-show couch around the world, and he instantly took over the room. Oprah, Parky - you name them. They all became putty in his hands, mesmerised by the sheer force of personality and the magnetic charm of their most cherished of guests.
As balletic and majestic as Ali was in the ring, he looked born for life in front the camera. He loved it as much as it craved him and his word-play, and we all loved him even more for it. More is the pity that Parkinson’s syndrome mugged Ali of the richness of his later years, because it also robbed the rest of us of what would surely have been the most natural of sports commentators and entertainers.
Today, tomorrow and for generations to come, the name Ali will forever rumble and be revered. He defended his individuality. He defended his beliefs. He fought for the weak and, of course, he attacked life with a vigour that even racism and institutional red-tape couldn’t diminish.
In the process, he inspired generations from all walks of life, transforming himself from clay into sporting royalty. He must be the greatest. - Sunday Tribune