KEY POINTS:
There was a time, and it is not so distant, when it seemed almost enough to have Muhammad Ali in the same room. However much he was reduced, however fleeting the evidence that came in some childish magic trick or mischievous eyes, you could, if you liked, believe something was left of that superior spirit that captivated the world.
Today, though, the truth on his 65th birthday is that it is no longer possible to scratch through layers of memory and troubled conscience for even such thin and self-deceiving consolation.
Maybe it was always so. Perhaps for the last 20 years, some people, and especially those who came to Ali only on the descent from glory, have seen through too sentimental eyes a beautiful human wreckage when really it was just wreckage; the husk left from a sport which was his vehicle for a greatness that swept him beyond every boundary, every prejudice to become the most charismatic - and most loved - man of the 20th century.
Some of the milestones and place names will always be central to the legend of The Greatest.
Madison Square Garden, March 8, 1971, when, after 3 1/2 years of exile after his refusal to serve in Vietnam, and at the age of 32 with his legs no longer a wonder of athleticism, he went into the ring to produce with Joe Frazier one of the greatest fights of all time.
Ali lost for the first time but, over 15 rounds, no fighter ever said more about the endless welling of his spirit and the resilience of his talent.
Kinshasa, Zaire, October 30, 1974, the Rumble in the Jungle, the victory over George Foreman that staggered the world in its brilliant pragmatism and warrior improvisation.
Quezon City, the Philippines, October 1, 1975, when in the 14th round Frazier's superb trainer, Eddie Futch, halted the Thriller in Manila because his man's rage to go on had not deflected him from the fact he could no longer see. After the fight, Ali said he had felt close to death.
However, it was maybe two years later, back in Madison Square Garden, against the heavy-hitting Earnie Shavers that some of Ali's entourage began to understand that he was indeed into the process of destroying his health. Certainly, it was this fight which showed beyond any doubt that Ali's endless courage had become his last and most dangerous asset.
The veteran boxing writer, and Ali confidant, Jerry Izenberg recalled 14 years later: "It was a day or two before he fought Shavers. We were alone and Ali said to me, 'Do you know how many years I've been fighting? Do you know how tired I am? Do you have any idea how hard that man is going to beat on my head tomorrow night?'
"And then I asked him, 'Why do you do it?' He didn't really give me an answer, although it was clear that money and glory and other people's expectations were all part of it.
"And I told him, 'You know there was once in this world a pathologist named Martland. And Martland might not have had all the answers but it was his theory that if you stop fighting tomorrow, and never go into the ring again, it will take two more years for the disintegration of your brain to stop. That's something you should think about after you fight Earnie Shavers tomorrow night. Because it would be a horrible tragedy if you were to wind up punch-drunk, which is what Martland's syndrome is all about."'
Martland's or Parkinson's syndrome? Boxing's most obdurate defenders will still opt for Parkinson's and point out that Ali's father, a signpainter in Louisville, was afflicted with the same illness, but however much you care for the oldest and most dangerous of games, it is impossible to shake off the memory of that night.
Shavers hit Ali so hard in the second round it seemed that boxing's most famous building was shaking on its foundations. It dictated Ali's fight, which was mostly about evasion and smoke and mirrors, deft jabs and clever retreat and, from time to time, a point-stealing flurry. Then, at the end, Ali reminded everyone why the Garden was jammed to bursting point and that three-quarters of the entire US television audience were tuned to the fight. Ali rose up in the last round and fought with all the majesty at his command, which despite the pain and weariness , was still an awesome amount.
In the dressing room later, Ali screamed for the lights to be turned off, saying they were like needles in his eyes. His fight doctor, Ferdy Pacheco, handed in his resignation because Ali was killing himself, bit by bit. "Everything is being damaged," said Pacheco. "Your brain, your kidneys, your liver, even your bowels. I can't be part of this anymore." The doctor's pleadings went unheeded, even after sending the Ali camp the most disturbing health report.
Ali had four more fights, losing three. The Larry Holmes fight, on the back lot of Caesars Palace, was really the end. Ali looked like a miracle when he came into the ring. But the effect was entirely cosmetic, he had been filled with diuretics. It was alleged later that before the fight Ali had been tested at the Mayo Clinic and a report suggesting brain damage had been suppressed. Ali was a shell and Holmes pounded him for 11 rounds.
Then it was over and even some strong men had tears in their eyes; tears of regret and maybe no little shame that they had played a part, however minuscule, in the over-reaching of the greatest man they were ever likely to see.
But his faithful retainer, Gene Kilroy, prefers to remember the glory days like when the plane was descending into Kinshasa and Ali shouted: "Hey Kilroy, who do my kinfolk down there hate most in the world?" Kilroy guessed it might be the Belgians because of their cruel colonisation of the Congo. Ali came down the plane's steps to tell the huge crowd: "George Foreman is a Belgian."
That is the Ali, a man who could create gridlock in any city street simply by taking a stroll, who will be conjured up today. The toast will be to grace and courage and a humour that lit the world. And, maybe, to an understanding that sooner or later the world does indeed break everyone, in some way or another, and that sometimes it is those who have given more than anyone else who are hurt most.
No one ever gave more of himself than Muhammad Ali - and anyone who saw him will never forget the most fabulous gift.
- INDEPENDENT
