Muhammad Ali's passing reminded me of my two encounters with him. OK, the first wasn't an encounter but it was significant for me. As the second fight between Ali and Sonny Liston approached our freshman dorm at the University of Richmond formed a pool to see who would win along with the round. 30 of us each put up $10 and then we drew a name/number. In 1965 $10 was a shitload of money--at least for me--so imagine my enthusiasm when I drew Ali in round one. Well, as it turned out Ali knocked Liston down in the first round and even though the referee didn't start the count until Ali went to a neutral corner (remember the photo of Ali standing over Liston by Neil Leifer) Liston never got up and was counted out. 29 freshman started screaming that it was a fix and the pool should be disbanded with refunds to everyone, I was not to be denied. $300 was more cash than I had ever had in my life in 1965 and as I pocketed the money pointed out we had bet on the winner and ending round so whether it was fixed or not was irrelevant. To this day that outcome is still debated among boxing historians and fans.
My actual encounter occurred in 1970 right after the Supreme Court overturned Ali's conviction for refusing the draft on religious grounds. I was at the Atlanta airport on my way out of town and Ali had just come to Atlanta to fight Jerry Quarry. In 1970 the old airport had solid bathroom doors that swung inward. I pushed the door open and it whacked a man in the head who was standing just inside. It whacked him pretty hard and I immediately apologized. The man turned and said "It's my fault for stopping, I'm OK." I walked on by but noticed several guys standing in front of him; I was amazed at how big he was--he was huge. It looked like he was signing autographs for them. I kept glancing and thinking he looks like Muhammad Ali, but then surmised it can't be--that guy is HUGE. I went outside and hopped up on the shoe shine stand, and within a few minutes Ali emerged and sat down on the stand beside me. He was impeccably dressed in a black suit, white shirt and tie. I noticed the stand was now surrounded by several black men also impeccably dressed; one of them handed him something and said, "Here's your ticket, Ali." I again apologized for hitting him and he again brushed it off very cordially. I then asked him how he felt about the Supreme Court's verdict and he mentioned his faith in Allah had helped him through it all.
That was it. We parted ways and I was amazed by how cordial, friendly and seemingly humble/normal he was. In the meantime I probably became the only person to hit Muhammad Ali hard in the head and not get hit back. The one thing I will always remember about Ali was his absolute fearlessness. Inside the ring he stood up to the likes of Liston, Fraizer and Foreman all of whom looked like they could destroy him. Outside the ring he stood up against segregation and racism, His religious beliefs and opposition to the Vietnam War at great personal costs and no doubt risks.
Godspeed, Muhammad Ali.
