The Evolution Of Boxing
Boxing. Now, there’s a real man’s sport.
Its not where a bunch of guys in knee high socks throw their balls around and swat at them with clubs and prance around a square. Or guys in tight shiny pants and big shoulder-pads grunt, sweat and chase each other with homo-erotic names like ‘Tight Ends’ and ‘Wide Receivers’, trying to grab an inflated piece of Pig’ Ass. Or tall skinny guys in baggy shorts running from one end of a gym to the other, chasing an orange ball, in a variation of ‘Ring Toss’. I ain’t impressed. I’ve seen Donkey and Monkey Basketball. The monkeys go one step further. They jump through the hoops as well. Now, that’s impressive!
I can go down the list, citing all those other sissy activities, but I’m only gonna talk about Boxing.
I remember those times in my early youth when my dad, and granddad used to gather in the kitchen after dinner and entertain the rest of the family with tales gone by. This past holiday, we all gathered, along with the newer generation. My daughter, recently married, brought along her new husband, a nice black kid from the east coast. It was a little strange at first, but we eventually warmed up to him. We Irish are a social bunch, and had no problem as he listened to Granddad talk about the days of boxing gone by.
He told us about John L. Sullivan, the hard drinking, hard brawling Irishman, who unmercifully beat the shit out of his opponents. Back in the day, bare-fisted brawling was the norm, fought inside and out of the Ring. When Boxing gloves were introduced, it ‘pussified’ the sport, but it didn’t change good ole’ John L.
Sullivan used to travel the country and knocked out people in bar fights, claiming that he could ‘lick any man alive’. Maybe granddad exaggerated a bit when he would claim that John L would fight wild animals and sea monsters, but it was all in fun.
Then my old man would chime in with tales of ‘The Rock’, Rocky Marciano. He was the guy who bought Boxing to the next level. He was able to keep it all in the ring. He was the ‘Gentleman’s boxer. No muss, no fuss, just boxing. Rocky was as reliable as clockwork. He’d take a hit to give a hit. Most of his wins were by knockouts, and he gave better than what he got.
When it came my turn to contribute, all I could do was reiterate on the old newsreels that played on the sport channels. Jack Dempsey, etc.
But then, my new son-in-law mentioned Mohammed Ali. The living room got quiet. Leave it to a smart-assed kid to bring up something ridiculous. I mean, what did this guy ever do to change the face of Boxing?
Then he started. Out of respect, we let him talk, expecting his to trip on his own words. The lad started his boxing career as Cassius Clay, winning the Gold in the Rome Olympics but threw it away after the realization that gold didn’t mean respect from the white American public. Even his fight for the heavyweight championship in Miami against Sonny Liston didn’t garner much respect. Everybody, including Liston thought of him as some mouthy upstart.
When Clay converted to Islam and officially changed his name, there were those who thought of it as a publicity stunt, but no, it was for real. This ‘Mohammed Ali’ began to shout from the rafters that he was Black, proud and loud, changing the image of the ‘Good Negro’ into the face of an angry, confident contender. Where people like ‘Sugar Ray Robinson and Joe Louis, were soft spoken and often let their managers do the talking, Ali stood tall, bragged and joked in front of the cameras. He would recite poems on the run, accurately predicting the bout where his opponent would go down, concluding that he was ‘The Greatest”.
I remembered seeing the ‘Ali-Shuffle’ for the first time, putting an end to the led-footed fighters. Most boxers were taught to plant themselves. A moving target was harder to give your best shot to. And this guy Ali moved. He ducked and bobbed. It was unthinkable!
We were used to knuckle dragging Neanderthals who swing their fists like clubs. After a few years, the boxers developed beetling brows, cauliflower ears and broken noses, resembling their simian ancestors. You knew when a prizefighter entered the room. But this Mohammed Ali guy had a movie star face, barely touched. Maybe that’s why he was able to hold the crowd in thrall for so long. Everybody was listening when he opened his mouth. People came from miles around, even women.
Boxing used to be a sport that men could watch in dimly lit barns, akin to cockfights. It became quite unsettling to have your wife jump out of her seat and scream at the fighters as loud or louder than you. Boxing used to be feared by women, thought only as lowbrow brutalization, where guys slightly more evolved from apes, acted out their alpha-male challenges. And that was why Granddad loved John L.
This Ali guy entertained out of the ring too. He didn’t need a manager to speak for him; in fact, most of them played ‘straight men’ to his prankster. The ones who got the worst of it were his impending opponents.
At first, we thought he would eventually fade away, but it seemed that the louder he got, the more people would listen. Even those who hated him, bought tickets to his fights hoping that they would be there at ringside to see his defeat. Even after the public witch-hunt and demonization due to his refusal to go to war, he managed a comeback and win his championship belt back. Anyone else would’ve just faded away with their tail between their legs, much like those spineless pussies that jumped the border into Canada. But not Ali, who stood his ground and preferred to fight for what he believed in, even if it meant jail time. We knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, his career was over. But he reclaimed his title, the hard way: one opponent at a time. For that reason, his following got bigger.
The fight that the world anticipated brought him to superstar status. My dad hoped this one would shut him up for good, as George Foreman, the favorite of white America, would punch the shit out of him and end it once and for all. The ‘Rumble in the Jungle’ ended the only way it could: Mohammed Ali had won back his title in the eighth round. How Foreman got over the public humiliation, which started the moment he set foot in Africa, is still a mystery to this day. Nowadays, he sells out with his George Foreman Grill.
Sure, Ali suffered some defeats, but he also came back, stronger and more determined. He definitely made the career of Howard Cosell. ‘Smokin’ Joe Frazier received the brunt of ‘Ugly’ jokes and an on-air feud went on for a long time, yet that also proved a boon as Joe shared the spotlight.
Despite it all, Mohammed Ali had stood in the spotlight longer than any boxer, and perhaps any athlete in history. I guess if I were black back in the day, I’d have a reason to be proud, also. That was the time when white America made being black a bad thing. Hell, Mohammed Ali even stood in the ring with Superman (a special edition comic), and fucked him up too. I know that sissy from the Bryan Singer movie wouldn’t have a chance, but this was way before that.
But now as I sit in my own place and think about what my son-in-law explained to us old Irish-American codgers, I realize that this Mohammed Ali wasn’t just a Boxer, he was a Man. Not only did he change the face of boxing, but he also changed the Color of the sport. He was also a symbol that made boxing an Art that everyone could enjoy. Maybe it’s a good thing that everybody can enjoy this sport around the world. I enjoyed the movie starring Will Smith, as well as the originals starring Ali himself.
…And maybe, just maybe…
He really IS the greatest…
Boxing. Now, there’s a real man’s sport.
Its not where a bunch of guys in knee high socks throw their balls around and swat at them with clubs and prance around a square. Or guys in tight shiny pants and big shoulder-pads grunt, sweat and chase each other with homo-erotic names like ‘Tight Ends’ and ‘Wide Receivers’, trying to grab an inflated piece of Pig’ Ass. Or tall skinny guys in baggy shorts running from one end of a gym to the other, chasing an orange ball, in a variation of ‘Ring Toss’. I ain’t impressed. I’ve seen Donkey and Monkey Basketball. The monkeys go one step further. They jump through the hoops as well. Now, that’s impressive!
I can go down the list, citing all those other sissy activities, but I’m only gonna talk about Boxing.
I remember those times in my early youth when my dad, and granddad used to gather in the kitchen after dinner and entertain the rest of the family with tales gone by. This past holiday, we all gathered, along with the newer generation. My daughter, recently married, brought along her new husband, a nice black kid from the east coast. It was a little strange at first, but we eventually warmed up to him. We Irish are a social bunch, and had no problem as he listened to Granddad talk about the days of boxing gone by.
He told us about John L. Sullivan, the hard drinking, hard brawling Irishman, who unmercifully beat the shit out of his opponents. Back in the day, bare-fisted brawling was the norm, fought inside and out of the Ring. When Boxing gloves were introduced, it ‘pussified’ the sport, but it didn’t change good ole’ John L.
Sullivan used to travel the country and knocked out people in bar fights, claiming that he could ‘lick any man alive’. Maybe granddad exaggerated a bit when he would claim that John L would fight wild animals and sea monsters, but it was all in fun.
Then my old man would chime in with tales of ‘The Rock’, Rocky Marciano. He was the guy who bought Boxing to the next level. He was able to keep it all in the ring. He was the ‘Gentleman’s boxer. No muss, no fuss, just boxing. Rocky was as reliable as clockwork. He’d take a hit to give a hit. Most of his wins were by knockouts, and he gave better than what he got.
When it came my turn to contribute, all I could do was reiterate on the old newsreels that played on the sport channels. Jack Dempsey, etc.
But then, my new son-in-law mentioned Mohammed Ali. The living room got quiet. Leave it to a smart-assed kid to bring up something ridiculous. I mean, what did this guy ever do to change the face of Boxing?
Then he started. Out of respect, we let him talk, expecting his to trip on his own words. The lad started his boxing career as Cassius Clay, winning the Gold in the Rome Olympics but threw it away after the realization that gold didn’t mean respect from the white American public. Even his fight for the heavyweight championship in Miami against Sonny Liston didn’t garner much respect. Everybody, including Liston thought of him as some mouthy upstart.
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I remembered seeing the ‘Ali-Shuffle’ for the first time, putting an end to the led-footed fighters. Most boxers were taught to plant themselves. A moving target was harder to give your best shot to. And this guy Ali moved. He ducked and bobbed. It was unthinkable!
We were used to knuckle dragging Neanderthals who swing their fists like clubs. After a few years, the boxers developed beetling brows, cauliflower ears and broken noses, resembling their simian ancestors. You knew when a prizefighter entered the room. But this Mohammed Ali guy had a movie star face, barely touched. Maybe that’s why he was able to hold the crowd in thrall for so long. Everybody was listening when he opened his mouth. People came from miles around, even women.
Boxing used to be a sport that men could watch in dimly lit barns, akin to cockfights. It became quite unsettling to have your wife jump out of her seat and scream at the fighters as loud or louder than you. Boxing used to be feared by women, thought only as lowbrow brutalization, where guys slightly more evolved from apes, acted out their alpha-male challenges. And that was why Granddad loved John L.
This Ali guy entertained out of the ring too. He didn’t need a manager to speak for him; in fact, most of them played ‘straight men’ to his prankster. The ones who got the worst of it were his impending opponents.
At first, we thought he would eventually fade away, but it seemed that the louder he got, the more people would listen. Even those who hated him, bought tickets to his fights hoping that they would be there at ringside to see his defeat. Even after the public witch-hunt and demonization due to his refusal to go to war, he managed a comeback and win his championship belt back. Anyone else would’ve just faded away with their tail between their legs, much like those spineless pussies that jumped the border into Canada. But not Ali, who stood his ground and preferred to fight for what he believed in, even if it meant jail time. We knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, his career was over. But he reclaimed his title, the hard way: one opponent at a time. For that reason, his following got bigger.
The fight that the world anticipated brought him to superstar status. My dad hoped this one would shut him up for good, as George Foreman, the favorite of white America, would punch the shit out of him and end it once and for all. The ‘Rumble in the Jungle’ ended the only way it could: Mohammed Ali had won back his title in the eighth round. How Foreman got over the public humiliation, which started the moment he set foot in Africa, is still a mystery to this day. Nowadays, he sells out with his George Foreman Grill.
Sure, Ali suffered some defeats, but he also came back, stronger and more determined. He definitely made the career of Howard Cosell. ‘Smokin’ Joe Frazier received the brunt of ‘Ugly’ jokes and an on-air feud went on for a long time, yet that also proved a boon as Joe shared the spotlight.
Despite it all, Mohammed Ali had stood in the spotlight longer than any boxer, and perhaps any athlete in history. I guess if I were black back in the day, I’d have a reason to be proud, also. That was the time when white America made being black a bad thing. Hell, Mohammed Ali even stood in the ring with Superman (a special edition comic), and fucked him up too. I know that sissy from the Bryan Singer movie wouldn’t have a chance, but this was way before that.
But now as I sit in my own place and think about what my son-in-law explained to us old Irish-American codgers, I realize that this Mohammed Ali wasn’t just a Boxer, he was a Man. Not only did he change the face of boxing, but he also changed the Color of the sport. He was also a symbol that made boxing an Art that everyone could enjoy. Maybe it’s a good thing that everybody can enjoy this sport around the world. I enjoyed the movie starring Will Smith, as well as the originals starring Ali himself.
…And maybe, just maybe…
He really IS the greatest…