(Above: Bud Collins Interviews Muhammad Ali, 1968.) When the Times called and asked me to write something about Ali, I stuck close to the theme of personal fleeting encounters with Ali – once upon a time in America.
There was no time or space for two other impressions of Ali, so I am getting to them here, both from 1996. The Anniversary. In March of 1996, I drove down to North Philadelphia to Joe Frazier’s gym, to talk about the 25th anniversary of their first fight in 1971. I knew Ali could no longer discuss that fight, but Smokin’ Joe could. I found him smoldering, resentful over the way Ali had pulled racial attitudes on him, calling him a gorilla and mocking the way he spoke. "I won that fight," Frazier said about 1971. "Guess I won the other two, also. I'm here talking to you, right?" He was crowing about still being able to work out and drive a car and talk to me, quite intelligently, his speech slightly difficult to follow because he grew up in a coastal region of South Carolina where the African dialect of Gullah was an influence. I could understand Smokin’ Joe just fine. He felt that Ali – sometimes he called him “Clay,” his birth or slave name – was duplicitous, manipulative, vicious. Two of Frazier’s children were at the gym – Marvis, preacher/boxer/companion, and Jackie Frazier-Lyde, his athlete daughter, now a municipal judge. Both were a tribute to Joe, and to their mother, adults with brains and compassion. They told him, Dad, you have to get over it. I knew Joe and Marvis to be good people. They had recently driven from Philly to Long Island in a major January snowstorm to attend the funeral of a dear friend, arriving at the synagogue after the service and staying a long time. I felt for Smokin’ Joe, who passed in 2011. In the mirror of time, Ali was diminished by his treatment of Frazier. http://www.nytimes.com/1996/03/03/sports/perspective-boxing-25-years-haven-t-softened-blows-frazier-finally-earned.html?pagewanted=all The Olympic Torch. A bunch of reporters were sitting in the press tribune at the Olympic Stadium, speculating on who would have the honor of carrying the torch on its final segment – a famous athlete? A King or a Carter? An artistic symbol of the new South? I don’t think any of us were prepared for the slow, deliberate trudge of the figure in white, one hand quivering, one hand carrying the torch up a narrow pathway. When we realized who it was, we gasped and then we did something banned in press boxes – we stood and exchanged high fives. Muhammad Ali. Perfect. Everybody understood the forces within that diminished figure – the draft, the conversion, the hyperbole, the beauty, the fights, the path from alien radical to stricken native son. That happened on a Friday night, too late for the Saturday paper. A few hours later for the Sunday paper I wrote this short, personal, emotional tribute less to Ali himself than to the Atlanta organizers who, perhaps to my shock, totally got it. (With a major nudge from Dick Ebersol of NBC.) http://www.nytimes.com/packages/html/sports/year_in_sports/07.19.html * * * (Finally, my thanks to so many people who have responded to my column in the Times. My praises to the professionals who produced and distributed the Ali tribute in about 170,000 copies of the final edition of the Saturday paper – including one on my doorstep.)
Michael
6/5/2016 02:05:01 pm
George - I kept checking this site, hoping for more on the subject. You came through and thanks! I was a boyhood fan of Ali, and remained as much. Agree his words about Fraizer were unfortunate and undignified. Michael
Altenir Silva
6/5/2016 02:05:34 pm
Dear George,
mike from whitestone
6/5/2016 07:31:03 pm
GV; Thanks for the kind words (aka kudos!) toward us in Queens, remember, you are part of that team too.
Elliott H Kolker
6/5/2016 11:56:08 pm
First of three "Ali" comments
Elliott H Kolker
6/6/2016 12:01:36 am
2nd of three "Ali" comments:
Elliott H Kolker
6/6/2016 12:05:25 am
3rd of three comments On Bill James On Line,
George Vecsey
6/6/2016 08:07:31 am
Elliott, thanks for your reactions to living in Ali's time.
Elliott Kolker
6/6/2016 09:34:19 am
George,
Brian Savin
6/7/2016 06:49:18 am
I've deliberately ignored all the headline articles about this man and turned off even my (only) favorite TV show, Charles Osgood's, because I couldn't stand reliving the hype again. A would be hero is marketed and created by folks with a motive; it happens too many times in our culture. We're saps for it in this country, maybe any country. So, often, are the interesting people being used. I guess its worth it for them. They get to be heavy weight champ, a movie queen, maybe even a President and they likely wouldn't otherwise. Finally, I've read four articles, all of them yours. Every one cut through the hype and examined the impact of this man-play on other people, some audience, some stepping stones. That's exactly where the focus needs to be in a look-back on this life. I'm glad these were the articles I chose to read. I knew they would have something to say that was important to think on.
George Vecsey
6/7/2016 09:00:22 am
Hi, Brian, thank you so much for the lovely words.
Brendan Buckley
6/7/2016 12:34:59 pm
Thank you, George, for the pieces you have written here and at the NYT. I have felt a sadness in recent days similar to the hollow sense of loss I experienced in December 1980 when John Lennon died. Both he and Ali were high profile, polarizing figures in contentious times. Of similar age, both were unafraid to speak and follow their consciences. Each could be dismissed by those who disagreed with them as uninformed popular figures, but each spoke the truth as they saw it and each possessed wisdom that too many overlooked in their time. For all the turmoil of the 60's that is seen as part of the baby boom experience the spokespeople for those times were from the Depression and WWII years - Ali, Lennon, Dylan, Seeger, Baez, King, Bobby Kennedy. Sadly, the events of recent decades suggest that our boom generation ultimately failed to heed those voices.
George Vecsey
6/7/2016 10:42:53 pm
Brendan, thanks for the comparison to Lennon, my "favorite Beatle." I play his "Watching the Wheels Go Round and Round" on my iPod pretty regularly. Never would have thought of them together, but you have a point. The 60's had a lot of people like that, including RFK, who went down in 1968. I have felt links to that time for moments during the Bernie madness. Best,GV 6/7/2016 01:27:29 pm
Thanks to all for the insight and personal experiences related to Muhammad Ali. It is a rare experience to learn so much about a public figure that I had admired.
fred gordon
6/7/2016 07:49:29 pm
Ali was a genius at creating a strong impression.
George Vecsey
6/7/2016 10:43:54 pm
Dear Fred Gordon: Wow, thanks so much for that great vision of Ali.
Elliott Kolker
6/7/2016 10:58:30 pm
bruce
6/8/2016 11:01:53 pm
George,
George Vecsey
6/9/2016 10:56:49 am
Bruce:
bruce
6/9/2016 11:11:40 am
George,
George Vecsey
6/9/2016 03:14:29 pm
Bruce:
bruce
6/9/2016 03:35:56 pm
george,
Gene Palumbo
6/10/2016 02:11:33 pm
I hope George will start a separate post to draw people's attention to this, but for the time being: in today's Times he has a fine column on Gordie Howe.
Brian Savin
6/10/2016 05:31:54 pm
Thanks so very much for this alert to us all, Gene. I started to read and then abruptly stopped. I'm staying in NYC tonight and decided this is something worth waiting for and doing it right! I will go down to the lobby tomorrow morning and pick up an actual newsprint copy of the Times and then I will take it into breakfast and do as I did so many times before. I will turn to the sports section first and look for the Sports of the Times column. I will find a by line reading George Vecsey and I will smile. I can't think of anything more wonderful, stimulating and comforting than having a boiled egg with a George Vecsey column to start the day! Now that's a holiday.
bruce
6/10/2016 05:47:24 pm
George,
Michael
6/11/2016 07:05:33 am
Thanks to Gene for the heads up! 2 NYTimes columns in one week - great. I became a Rangers fan during the last year of 6 NHL teams. I always feared Howe and his Red Wings. Also love the subtle line, "the greatest number 9 in any North American sport." Very appropriate as the Euros start in France (where many other "#9's" roamed the pitch!). Thanks again George. Comments are closed.
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QUOTES
More and More, I Talk to the Dead--Margaret Renkl NASHVILLE — After my mother died so suddenly — laughing at a rerun of “JAG” at 10 p.m., dying of a hemorrhagic stroke by dawn — I dreamed about her night after night. In every dream she was willfully, outrageously alive, unaware of the grief her death had caused. In every dream relief poured through me like a flash flood. Oh, thank God! Then I would wake into keening grief all over again. Years earlier, when my father learned he had advanced esophageal cancer, his doctor told him he had perhaps six months to live. He lived far longer than that, though I never thought of it as “living” once I learned how little time he really had. For six months my father was dying, and then he kept dying for two years more. I was still working and raising a family, but running beneath the thin soil of my own life was a river of death. My father’s dying governed my days. After he died, I wept and kept weeping, but I rarely dreamed about my father the way I would dream about my mother nearly a decade later. Even in the midst of calamitous grief, I understood the difference: My father’s long illness had given me time to work death into the daily patterns of my life. My mother’s sudden death had obliterated any illusion that daily patterns are trustworthy. Years have passed now, and it’s the ordinariness of grief itself that governs my days. The very air around me thrums with absence. I grieve the beloved high-school teacher I lost the summer after graduation and the beloved college professor who was my friend for more than two decades. I grieve the father I lost nearly 20 years ago and the father-in-law I lost during the pandemic. I grieve the great-grandmother who died my junior year of college and the grandmother who lived until I was deep into my 40s. Some of those I grieve are people I didn’t even know. How can John Prine be gone? I hear his haunting last song, “I Remember Everything,” and I still can’t quite believe that John Prine is gone. ----- https://www.nytimes.com/2023/01/30/opinion/death-grief-memory.html Jan. 30, 2023 Categories
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