I am in agreement with the sentiments on Twitter from the bloggers VSB...Muhammad Ali has died. And 2016 can go to hell.
Opening of the 1996 Olympics. I was at home, watching the opening ceremony, having cringed at the pickup trucks that had raced around the stadium, and watched with detached interest as they lit the flame. And then, unexpected to me, Muhammad Ali emerged to move the flame the last few feet. I was suddenly riveted, and on my feet, cheering for him, as the entire arena did the same. I was one of those Ali moments that just sticks with you.
It's taken me a while to write to this, mostly coming to the realization I was never going to find quite the right words. The last time I saw Ali he was in a cart at a Miami Marlins game and he looked nothing like I wanted to believe. And so I want to remember him as a more vital man, potent with style and bursting with charm. Not just unparalleled fighter, but also the man who came after.
There is no way to finish that sentence because the man was almost too many things to quantify. At a time when black men died for raising their voices, Ali hollered in defiance. He was witty, yet insightful, charming with just a hint of dominance. He won boxing championships. He told the US government not just no, but HELL NO. He appeared on Broadway. He spoke about injustice and racial politics. In the comics he fought Superman...and won. In his prime, he was larger than life.
|From DC Comics...|
Muhammad Ali was the the Greatest of All Time. And I hope he rests well.