Confession time: My mom sprung me from school early on February 25, 1964 so Dad could drive me to Seattle to see Cassius Clay (later Muhammad Ali) fight Sonny Liston LIVE on a big screen at the Seattle Center. We never, ever did anything like that, before or after, but I wanted to go in the worst way and Mom and Dad were not going to deny me the opportunity.

 

I was just thirteen years old and possibly the youngest person in attendance  when Dad and I got to the arena (or Center, or wherever it was). We were surrounded by thousands of others–mostly boisterous, raucous, jostling men–many of whom wanted to see Sonny Liston annihilate this dancing, darting, smart-mouthed “I am the Greatest!” upstart contender. Not me. I wanted him to win.

 

But when he got into the ring, and the camera showed the way Sonny Liston was looking at him, I got scared. I thought, “Liston doesn’t want to just defeat him; he wants to kill him!”  I wasn’t sure, then, if I wanted to watch what would come next… I realized how ugly it could get.  (I wasn’t a fight fan. I was just a Cassius Clay fan. I loved how confident he seemed, how poised. And he was “pretty” and made sure we all noticed that!)

 

As we all know, he won that fight… and many more… including a lot outside the ring. When he changed his name to Muhammad Ali, when he refused to go to Vietnam, when he called out America on its racism and tawdry behaviors, it was okay with me. I understood everything he said in defense of everything he did, and everything he refused to do. It was apparent to me that he was a man with principles and viewpoints and the courage to stand by them and stand up for them.

 

I agonized when I learned about Ali’s Parkinson’s diagnosis and every time I saw him after that as his steps slowed,  as his voice ebbed, and as his battle waged on.  Watching him decline was somehow kindred to watching my own mother and DeForest Kelley decline up close and personal, even though I never met him. He was someone I looked up to, admired, and considered a national treasure.

 

I know it has been a long time coming… so it isn’t a shock…but it is a heartache. I will always remember him with fondness, admiration and deepest respect.

 

As an anemic sports fan who rarely follows sports figures or team, I can honestly say that, for me, Muhammad Ali truly was the greatest.  Guiltily-but-eagerly skipping school to watch him in action against Sonny Liston is a memory I will carry with me forever.

 

Rest in peace, Champ!