The Soul Of A Butterfly (10 page)

Service to others

Is the rent we pay for

our room in Heaven.

the

BLESSING

A LONG TIME
ago, I took a walk down a street in Harlem in New York City. I came upon a man who asked me for a dollar. He had asked a few other people before me, but they only passed him by without glancing his way.

I stopped and handed the man some money. As I began to turn away, he reached out and shook my hand. He looked me in the eyes and said, “I will bless you.”

Now, I’m not saying that was God Himself. But how do we know that it wasn’t someone working for Him, walking around in disguise, just to see what we would do?

GIVING

IF ALL THE
good that I have accomplished in my lifetime were measured against my intentions, I suppose I would have failed. When a person has been blessed with a life as full and rich as mine, he can never give back enough.

Some people give in order to feel good about themselves. They see someone in need on their block and they pity him, so they hand him some change. Others give to receive praise and that praise is their reward, but the purity of their generosity is diminished because they received something for it. True giving happens when we give from our heart.

Giving because you genuinely want to help a person or a worthy cause while remaining anonymous is true charity. That is the kind of giver I wanted to be … a giver from the heart.

I tried to teach my children never to turn a needy person away. I taught them to show respect for all God’s creatures. I taught them to reach out to people who were down and lend them a helping hand. I taught them that by keeping the needy and less fortunate close to their hearts, they would be closer to God.

THAT

is

WHY

REPORTERS HAVE ASKED
me many times why I think so many people around the world respond to me the way that they do. When I consider this question, a memory comes to mind.

It was a hot day in Miami, Florida. Gene Kilroy and I were driving to the airport to pick up Mama Bird and Papa Cash. As we pulled up at the baggage claim area a police officer recognized me and shouted out, “Hey, Champ, how are you?”

Then he said that it was OK for Gene to remain parked while I went to find my parents.

After a while another officer walked up and told Gene he had to move the car or he would get a ticket. Gene explained to the officer that he was waiting for Muhammad Ali to pick up his parents, that this was my car, and we had received permission from another officer on duty to remain where we
were.
The policeman told Gene that he didn’t care who he was waiting for or why, and if he didn’t move the car he would get a ticket. So, Gene pulled off and circled the airport.

By the time he made it back around, my parents and I were standing outside in front of the baggage claim area where I was signing autographs. As Gene pulled up again I looked up and noticed the officer giving him a hard time. The policeman told Gene that he’d warned him once, and now he was giving him a ticket. Gene hadn’t been parked more than ten seconds. I noticed the officer looking my way. As they argued I walked over to the policeman and told him that it was okay to just give me the ticket.

After the officer gave me the ticket and we were driving out of the airport, I said to Gene, “That is why.”

He looked at me and asked what I meant by that statement. Then I told him this story.

Two peasants were traveling down a winding road on their way to see the king. When they approached the gates of the kingdom an army of foot soldiers bullied them and ran them off.

Then one peasant said to the other, “That is why.”

The next day, the two peasants traveled down the winding road again with hopes to see the king. This time an army of horse soldiers rode up, threw stones at them and ran them off.

Then the peasant said to his friend, “That is why.” The two peasants would not give up, so they traveled the winding road again. This time the king’s carriage pulled up, and when the king saw the two peasants standing there in torn clothes, with cuts and bruises all over them, the king got out of his carriage, walked up to the two peasants, put his arm around them, and gave them each a gold coin.

As they walked back down the winding road, one peasant said to the other again, “That is why.”

When they were both back home sitting in their little huts, the other peasant asked his
friend
what he meant when he said, “That is why?”

The first peasant responded,

That is why they are foot soldiers, and that is all they will ever be.

That is why they are horse soldiers, and that is all they will ever be.

And that is why he is king.

Then I looked at Gene and said, “That is why the officer behaved as he did. Perhaps the biggest thing in that officer’s life right now is that he gave Muhammad Ali a parking ticket. That is why!”

I always try to make time for the poor and the powerless, the young and the old. So, that is why.

still the

GREATEST

SINCE I WON’T
let critics seal my fate, they

keep hollering I’m full of hate.

But they don’t really hurt me none ’cause

I’m doing good and having fun.

And fun to me is something bigger than

what those critics fail to figure.

Fun to me is lots of things

and along with it some good I bring.

Yet while I’m busy helping my people,

these critics keep writing I’m deceitful.

But I can take it on my chin,

And that’s the honest truth,

my friend.

Now from Muhammad you just heard

the latest and the truest word.

So when they ask you, what’s the latest?

Just say, ask Ali, he’s still the Greatest.

the comeback fight

ON JUNE 28
, 1971, the Supreme Court set me free. The decision overturning my conviction for violating the Selective Service Act is framed and hanging on a wall in my office in Michigan. With the change in attitude about the war in Vietnam, and the large amount of money that could be made from a boxing match between Joe Frazier and me, the nationwide ban on licensing me to box was eventually lifted. I had already fought three fights, not knowing if I would be going to jail while waiting for the Supreme Court decision.

The first bout was against Jerry Quarry in Atlanta, Georgia, on October 26, 1970. The day we arrived in Atlanta, I started receiving death threats and crank calls saying that I would be killed if I didn’t get out of Georgia immediately. But nothing and no one was running me out of Atlanta. I had worked long and hard to get back into the ring, and the fight meant too much to me to just pack up and leave.

I wasn’t just fighting one man, I was fighting a lot of men. I had to show them all that I was a man they couldn’t intimidate. If I lost, I would have to listen to all the talk about how I was a bum, how I joined the wrong movement, and how I was misled. That’s why it was so important for me to show them how wrong they were. I won in a third-round knockout.

My next fight was on December 7, 1970, against Oscar Bonavena in New York, and I won by another knockout in the fifteenth round.

Then on March 8, 1971, I fought Joe Frazier for the first time. I had been feeling like a caged tiger, and I took out most of my frustrations on Joe. I lost the fight in the fifteenth round by a decision. Joe had been too good a boxer for me to face so soon after I returned to boxing from the forced layoff of the previous three and a half years. And I did not count on his determination being as strong as mine. I wouldn’t make that mistake with him again. This was my first professional loss.

I got my passport back in June 1971, and I traveled the world fighting professional matches and exhibitions, but I desperately wanted to fight Frazier again and take back my title. My plans were upset when George Foreman beat Joe and took the title. Now I was going to have to defeat both men to prove that I was the true champ.

My opportunity to fight Frazier again came at Madison Square Garden in 1974, and after a long time preparing to take him on again, I won the fight in the thirteenth round. While promoting the third fight with Frazier, the “Thrilla in Manila,” in 1975, I did a lot of damage poking fun at him. I’d always given nicknames to my opponents to help sell tickets and make everyone interested in the fight. But with Frazier, I went too far and tension between us escalated until he really disliked me. The fight was truly brutal. Each of us was determined to win this deciding match, no matter what. Frazier caught me with solid left hooks. I wanted to quit, but I couldn’t. I remember telling Angelo after I won that it was the closest I’d ever come to dying.

Joe made me fight harder than I ever thought I could. He was a formidable opponent whose skills I will always respect.

* * *

But I had hurt Joe Frazier in more ways than one and I didn’t realize at the time how my words and actions impacted his family. It was never my intention to hurt them. For that, I’m sorry.

This poem is for Joe and his family.

THE SILENT WARRIOR

There lives a great fighter named Joe

who took his share of blows.

They ranged from high to low.

He traveled around the globe,

and walked the long road home.

His pain no man could know.

There lives a great champion named Joe

who kept his head held high.

He fought the best of men

and proved
his
strength would not die.

There lives a great man named Joe

who was belittled by a loudmouth foe.

While his rival would taunt and tease,

Joe silently bore the stings.

And then fought like a gladiator in the ring.

As the years passed swiftly by

The rounds diminished with time.

But Joe’s trouble no man could know,

and his shame no man would find.

No matter how cruel the lyric,

No matter how painful the strike,

Joe was proud to be Joe.

His pride no man could take down.

His dignity rose with his crown.

Long after the final bout ended,

After the last bell rang,

News reached Joe’s old opponent,

of the pain his family had suffered.

The blows weren’t intended to hit home

But his family still remembers the anguish

Their hurt had never ended.

Now Ali could feel Joe’s pain,

And Ali’s sorrow could not be relieved.

So today Joe stands a great warrior,

marked with respect and pride.

For all that life has dealt him,

He never let strength subside.

The two men who fought great battles,

became blood brothers in time.

For every struggle that Joe survived,

For every dispute he endured, to rise.

Joe will go down in history

as a model for champions to come.

While Frazier was a man of few words,

Ali was a world of mouth,

but he found his place in history.

Now his heart can express him well.

Joe Frazier was a silent warrior,

whom Ali silently admired.

One could not rise without the other.

my golden
FIGHTS

Of all the men I have fought
.

Liston was the scariest
.

Foreman was the most powerful
,

Patterson the most skillful
.

The toughest was Joe Frazier
.

my philosophy

OF BOXING

I ALWAYS BELIEVED
boxers should not hurt each other unnecessarily just to please the crowd.

Most fighters are scared to lighten up during a bout even when winning on points, for fear they will be accused of being part of a fixed fight. I can remember watching other fighters and thinking, “Boy, I must be a fool. These two men are like two roosters at a cockfight whose owners have strapped knives to their spurs and had them fight each other to satisfy the crowds who bet on them.”

I love boxing and it did a lot for me. But sometimes it made me think how savage human beings could be to each other. That wasn’t the kind of boxer I wanted to be. My strategy was to be as scientific as I could when I fought.
I
didn’t want to be seriously hurt, and I didn’t want to do that to anybody else either.

My plan was to dance, stay out of my opponent’s reach, and use my wits as much as my fists. I tried to get into the mind of my opponent and psyche him out. I studied my opponents to learn their strengths and weaknesses, and to the best of my ability I tried to be completely honest about my own. That was pretty much how I won the championship fight with Sonny Liston, and how I won the title back in my match with George Foreman.

Muslims aren’t supposed to trick people, and I try not to do that. I love magic, and at one time I was a member of a magicians’ union. But because Muslims aren’t supposed to deceive anyone, I would always reveal how a trick was done after I amazed everyone with my “magic powers.” After I did this on a British television show, however, the magicians’ union kicked me out.

Just as when doing magic tricks, boxing requires practice and dedication. Showmanship is a large part of both boxing and magic as well. I called my opponents names and boasted of my abilities and beauty, and often predicted the round of my victory to infuriate them so they would make mistakes. Some may call this a trick, I just hoped it gave me an edge.