I am the greatest. I said that even before I knew I was. I figured that if I said it enough, I would convince the world that I really was the greatest.” To those who needs motivation, I was born as Cassius Marcellus Clay Jr. at 6:35 p.m. on January 17, 1942, in Louisville, Kentucky to Cassius Clay Sr. and Odessa Grady Clay. My old man, Cassius Clay Sr. was a muralist, but painted signs for a living. My mother, Odessa Clay worked as a housecleaner and a cook. Two years after I was born, my parents had another son, Rudolph (“Rudy”). When I was 12 years old, a friend and I went to the Columbia Auditorium to partake in the free hot dogs and popcorn available for visitors of the Louisville Home Show. When we were done eating, we went back to get their bicycles only to discover that my bicycle had been stolen. I was furious. I went to the basement of the Columbia Auditorium to report the crime to police officer Joe Martin, who was also a boxing coach at the Columbia Gym.

When I said how badly I wanted to beat up the person who stole the bike, Martin told me that I should probably learn to fight first. A few days later, I began boxing training at Martin’s gym. From the very beginning, I took his training seriously. Trained six days a week. On school days, I wake early in the morning so that I could go running and then would go workout at the gym in the evening. When Martin’s gym closed at 8 pm, I would then go train at another boxing gym. Over time, I also created my own eating regimen that included milk and raw eggs for breakfast. Concerned about what I put in my body, I stayed away from junk food, alcohol, and cigarettes so that I could be the best boxer in the world.

The 1960 Olympics

Even in my early training, I trained like no one else. I trained so well and I was fast. So fast that I didn’t duck punches like most other boxers; instead, I just leaned back away from them. I also didn’t put my hands up to protect my face; I kept them down by my hips. In 1960, the Olympic Games were held in Rome. I was 18 years old then and had already won national tournaments such as the Golden Gloves and so I felt ready to compete in the Olympics. On September 5, 1960, I (then still known as Cassius Clay) fought against Zbigniew Pietrzyskowski from Poland in the light-heavyweight championship bout. In a unanimous decision, the judges declared me as the winner, which meant I had won the Olympic gold medal. Having won the Olympic gold medal, I had attained the top position in amateur boxing. It was time for me to turn professional.

The next step in my life - Winning the Heavyweight Title As I started fighting in professional boxing bouts, I realized that there were things I could do to create attention for myself. For instance, before fights, I made it a habit to say things to worry his opponents. I would also frequently declare that, “I am the greatest of all time!” Often before a fight, I would write poetry that either called spoke about how my opponent would fall or boast of my own abilities. My most famous line was when I said that I was going to “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.” My theatrics worked. Many people paid to see my fights just to see such a braggart lose. In 1964, even the heavyweight champion, Charles “Sonny” Liston got caught up in the hype and agreed to fight me.

On February 25, 1964, I fought Liston for the heavyweight title in Miami, Florida. Liston tried for a quick knockout, but I was too fast to catch. By the 7th round, Liston was too exhausted, had hurt his shoulder, and was worried about a cut under his eye. Liston refused to continue the fight. I had become the heavyweight boxing champion of the world. The day after the championship bout with Liston, I publicly announced his conversion to Islam. The public was not happy. I had joined the Nation of Islam, a group led by Elijah Muhammad that advocated for a separate black nation. Since many people found the Nation of Islam’s beliefs to be racist, they were angry and disappointed that I had joined them. Up to this point, I was still known as Cassius Clay. When I joined the Nation of Islam in 1964, I shed my “slave name” (I was named after a white abolitionist that had freed his slaves) and took on the new name of Muhammad Ali.

A change in my life

During the three years after the Liston fight, I won every bout. I was one of the most popular athletes of the 1960s. I became a symbol of black pride. Then in 1967, I received a draft notice. The United States was calling up young men to fight in the Vietnam War. Since I was a famous boxer, I could have requested special treatment and just entertained the troops. However, my deep religious beliefs forbade killing, even in war, and so I refused to go. In June 1967, I was tried and found guilty of draft evasion. Although I was fined $10,000 and sentenced to five years in jail, I remained out on bail while I appealed. However, in response to public outrage, I was banned from boxing and stripped off of my heavyweight title. For three and a half years, I was “exiled” from professional boxing. While watching others claim the heavyweight title, I lectured around the country to earn some money.

Everyone has challenges to face. Mine was out of choice and my deeply instilled beliefs. I never wanted to change who I am or what I believed in just to earn or win people’s hearts. I was true to myself and what I did. I was back in the ring by 1970, because the general American public had become dissatisfied with the Vietnam War and was thus easing their anger against me. After participating in an exhibition match on September 2, 1970, I fought in my first real comeback bout on October 26, 1970, against Jerry Quarry in Atlanta, Georgia. During the fight, I appeared slower than I used to be; yet before the start of the fourth round, Quarry’s manager threw in the towel. I was back and I wanted to reclaim my heavyweight title. On March 8, 1971, I got my chance to win back the heavyweight title. I was to fight Joe Frazier at Madison Square Garden. This fight, billed as “the Fight of the Century,” was viewed in 35 countries around the world and was the first fight I used my “ropea- dope” technique. Although I did well in a few of the rounds, in many others I was pounded by Frazier.

The fight went the full 15 rounds, with both fighters still standing at the end. The fight was unanimously awarded to Frazier. I had lost my first professional fight and had officially lost the heavyweight title. Shortly after I had lost this fight with Frazier, I won a different kind of fight. My appeals against the draft evasion conviction had gone all the way up to the U.S. Supreme Court, who unanimously reversed the lower court’s decision on June 28, 1971. I as thankfully exonerated. On October 30, 1974, I had another chance at the championship title. In the time since I lost to Frazier in 1971, Frazier himself had lost his championship title to George Foreman. While Ali had won a rematch against Frazier in 1974, I was much slower and older than I used to be and was not expected to have a chance against Foreman. Many considered Foreman to be unbeatable.

The bout was held in Kinshasa, Zaire and was thus billed as “the Rumble in the Jungle.” Once again, I used my rope-a-dope strategy - this time with much more success. I was able to tire out Foreman so much that by the eighth round, I knocked Foreman out. For the second time, I had become the heavyweight champion of the world. “Only a man who knows what it is like to be defeated can reach down to the bottom of his soul and come up with the extra ounce of power it takes to win when the match is even.” After winning the heavyweight title for the third time, I retired on June 26, 1979. I fought Larry Holmes in 1980 and Trevor Berbick in 1981 but lost both fights. The fights were embarrassing; it was obvious that I should stop boxing.

Retirement and Parkinson’s syndrome I had been the greatest heavyweight boxer in the world three times. In my professional career, I had won 56 bouts and lost only five. Of the 56 wins, 37 of them were by knockout. Unfortunately, all of these fights took a toll on my body. After suffering increasingly slurred speech, shaking hands, and over-tiredness, I was hospitalized in September 1984 to determine the cause. My doctors diagnosed that I had Parkinson’s syndrome. After being out of the limelight for more than a decade, I was asked to light the Olympic flame during the Opening Ceremonies of the 1996 Olympics in Atlanta, Georgia. I moved slowly and my hands shook. But I know in my heart I did my part in this world and I was content. Since then, I worked tirelessly to help charities around the world. I also spent a lot of time signing autographs. Live everyday as if it were your last because someday you’re going to be right. And always float like a butterfly and Sting like a bee!

Muhammed Ali.

Written by Devuni Goonewardene ([email protected])