When did I become a fan of Muhammad Ali?
I had heard of Cassius Clay, the young loudmouthed upstart boxer who enjoyed predicting knockout rounds, bragging, and humiliating his opponents through humorous poems and rhymes in the early 1960s. I didn’t particularly like anyone so vain and ungentlemanly.
But soon after Cassius decided to be called Muhammad Ali, and I saw his fights live on TV, I had a paradigm shift and began to have great admiration and respect for the gutsy fighter, even though I was only around 15 years old. From then onwards, I can’t remember a time when Ali was not my hero and I began to love the man, including his big mouth.
When Muhammad Ali won his heavyweight boxing championship rematch bout with Sonny Liston barely two minutes into the first round, on May 25, 1965, my father presented his boys with two red pairs of real, professional sparring boxing gloves.
The world had been marvelling about Muhammad Ali who displayed his boxing skills in the ring; Malaysia was also smitten with Ali magic.
With Ali’s off-the cuff glib flamboyance, which was often provocative and outlandish, it was either you loved or hated him. In our home, all of us, including mum and dad, were staunch Ali fans.
There was also something special about Ali’s charisma. He was definitely the most good-looking pugilist in his sport and he was equally beautiful in his art, fighting gracefully in his perfectly sculpted body. He captivated us with not only his boxing prowess in the ring but also the delightful manner he entertained his fans in his promotional buildup to his fights, always to the detriment of his opponents in the ring.
So with the boxing gloves in our hands and our neighbours peering out of their windows or coming out to look and to cheer us on, we sparred in the lawns of our Federal Hill home, off Jalan Travers in Kuala Lumpur, and we tried to imitate Ali.
There was magic in the gloves once you had them on because you began to feel like a real boxer.
Friends would come over to show off their boxing talent but the rule was to be gentle with our punches to the face so that our noses would not be broken. Even while just fooling around, we found the sport most exhausting.
Who would have dreamt that Ali would one day land on our shores for one of his professional fights. But he did, 10 years later, when he would fight Britain’s European Champion Joe Bugner again, on July 1, 1975, in Stadium Merdeka.
This fight was miraculously sponsored locally because of the strong connection all Malaysians felt with Ali. Obviously, Malaysia was inspired to pull this off because Ali had fought the Dutch Champion Rudy Lubbers in Jakarta in October 1973. It was, however, a great marketing strategy that put Malaysia on the world map.
About 22,000 fans bought tickets to see the fight live. Only the rich and famous and those who could afford it bought ringside tickets which cost, I believe, RM1,000.
Joe Frazier, nicknamed Smokin’ Joe, who was next in line to fight Ali for the third time, in the famous Thrilla of Manila, in October, was also among the spectators. The rest were happy to watch the boxing match live on TV at home. On the day of the bout, the streets of Kuala Lumpur were deserted.
Ali was going to be in the country for more than a month to get acclimatised and to prepare for the fight. When he arrived, thousands flocked to see him at the airport. Later on, people tried to catch a glimpse of him in the hotel where he was staying, during training, his early morning jogs, and during his press conferences where he took control and regaled the press with his showmanship.
Being a true fan, I wanted to meet him, not just see him. So I read the papers meticulously and watched the news daily on TV to be updated on the contenders’ activities and particularly on Ali’s schedule. I was, however, not successful even after several attempts.
Malaysians young and old felt good that the champ was in town and there was much to talk about Ali and Bugner at work and elsewhere. In particular, it was interesting to hear the so-called expert views of people and hear the stories of those who managed to see their idol. Of course there was a lot of betting going on at the same time. Many companies installed TVs in their premises to enable their employees to watch the fight since it was a working day.
Ali won the clash after 15 rounds through a unanimous decision on points, without the knockout punch everyone was waiting for.
I did not get to meet Ali, who would become the first man to win the heavyweight title three times. But my sisters and those in their company were really lucky in the wee hours of the morning on June 22, 1975, when Ali returned from his early morning jog surrounded by police personnel.
While the police prevented any close contact, he graciously invited my sisters to the lobby where they sat down for a chat and, soon after, requested them to accompany him to his suite, introduced them to his two wives and showed them their bedrooms, served them refreshments and encouraged them to take whatever they wanted from his closet. One of my sisters took one of his shirts for my brother.
After refreshing himself, Ali took them downstairs for breakfast and introduced them to some members of his entourage. He obliged with pictures and autographs. He was not at all arrogant but humble, most gracious, obliging and accommodating. Indeed my sisters considered themselves very privileged to have been granted such an ad hoc private audience with their icon, to the envy of other fans.
Looking at the pictures taken with the Champ 46 years ago, I can vouch that I have never seen my sisters looking so absolutely elated and delighted. Could anyone blame them for being on cloud nine for months after the meeting. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to meet their legendary idol, who was to leave a legacy unmatched in the boxing arena in the future, whose style in the ring was to “float like a butterfly, sting like a bee”.
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