My Hero

He gained fame for his ability to fight. Yet he became a legend as a symbol of peace. His primary world was one of few words where combatants slugged out their differences. Yet people from all corners of the globe flocked to him for his ability to talk and inspire. He stood tall for his religious convictions. Yet he lived a life of moral imperfection. Despite all the contradictions and even inconsistencies, he was beloved. "The People's Champ" was what many called him. To others, it was simply "Champ."  Either way, to me the label "hero" worked best. Muhammad Ali was my hero. Yesterday, as I write this, he died at age 74.

One would be hard-pressed to find anyone anywhere who was not familiar with Ali. For over a half century he was part of the world stage as a result of his great skills as a boxer, courage, and unshakeable conviction. His victories were many, some even spectacular. This includes his victory over the United States which tried to imprison him for refusing to accept induction into the armed services. After three years, ultimately it was the U.S. Supreme Court that raised his hand invictory. Never did he stand taller. Yet his setbacks were just as impressive for the grace in which he accepted them.

I met my hero once at a luncheon at my college in the early 1970s. I even got to shake his hand. Later that decade I was present at two of his fights both of which he won by decision. All told, he fought 61 fights and won 56 of them. I watched them all. For me, perhaps the most memorable was a rare loss when his jaw was broken in the early rounds, yet he fought for ten more rounds before losing on a split decision.  Then and throughout his life he communicated heart, courage and love. To me, this fighter was a man of peace. As many have said since his passing, Ali really did shake up the world. We are the better for it.