The Greatest

"I ain't got no quarrel with them Viet Cong."

There have been many excellent tributes to Muhammad Ali since his death this past Friday, but I don't really think any of them can truly conjure how special he was.  He was poetry in the boxing ring and courage personified outside of it.  His braggadocio and humor toward his chosen career were traits previously unseen, and his determination and honesty in the career he had thrust upon him as an activist were an inspiration to the world.

Muhammad Ali was the first hero I ever had, and I can still picture the poster of him that hung on my bedroom wall when I was still a very young man.  I will never forget crying my eyes out after his loss to Ken Norton in 1972, in which he boxed for six rounds with a broken jaw, and his chances for ever being heavyweight champ again appeared to be over--just as I'll never forget his stunning victory over George Foreman in 1974 and being probably the only kid in my conservative Indiana high school that had a smile on his face the next morning.

It wasn't until I was older that I understood what it had really meant for him to refuse to kill other human beings in a war (though I had fully witnessed the hatred that his actions brought upon him), and for a burgeoning young Liberal it was a courage of conviction that I strive to emulate to this day.

I don't ever remember crying at the death of any famous person before, but I cried when I heard that Muhammad Ali had died last Friday.

The world is a worse place without him in it.

Peace,
emaycee