OUT of clay, you moulded this clay of a man (Cassius Clay) and turned him into a great work of art. A masterpiece from the Supreme Artist that you are. You our Creator, our Father, our Master, our God, our everything. Out of clay we came. Into the clay we go, leaving all our vanities behind.
You not only made him handsome—the kind of handsome looks that make women all over the world tremble. You blessed him like a modern day Samson with an incredible strength, fighting talents and an indomitable spirit. Before him, there was no fighter with his kind of prowess, his kind of style and the panache he brought into boxing. Before him, there was no charismatic boxer who transcended boxing to become a historic figure and a world leader placed on the same moral pedestal like Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King Jr., Mahatma Gandhi, Steve Jobs and a few more—men whose greatness time would not allow us to forget, men who changed the world, men who left their marks on the sands of time, men whose iconic faces are recognizable everywhere on this planet. Perhaps, among all of them, Muhammed Ali stood out as the most recognized face of our modern era. He was the face of boxing, not just boxing but the face of all sports because no sportsman be you Pele, Maradona, Michael Jordan, Roger Federer, Tiger Woods, Jack Nicklaus, Sachin Tendulkar has Ali’s stature. He was the face of Parkinson, a disease he battled heroically till the end. No one can forget the picture of a trembling Ali, struggling to light the Olympic flame in Atlanta. It was so pathetic. Yet heroic. Now, the skilful, legendary boxer has finally been kayoed in his last fight.
Here lies a man who was everything— the face of peace, a “conscionable objector” who will not go and fight for America in Vietnam because as he puts it, “I ain’t got nothing against them Vietcong…no Vietcong ever called me a nigger.”
Here lies the game-changer—the man who changed the face of boxing with his “Ali Shuffle,” with his bravura, with his showmanship, with his speed of a heavyweight that looks like a middleweight or even a lightweight, with his evasive style of dodging blows by moving backwards, cockily lowering his guard, dancing in the ring, floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee. The innovator who invented “rope-a-dope” style of staying on the ropes, absorbing all the powerful blows, then unleashing fast, killer punches when the opponent got tired as evidenced in the fall of the boxing Goliath, George Foreman in Zaire — the Rumble in the Jungle. In 1964, the first fistic Goliath, Sonny Liston fell in Round Seven in Miami for young Cassius Clay to shock the world and become the heavyweight champion.
In life, we all come across Goliaths in all forms standing on our paths to success and greatness. Muhammed Ali’s life and times is an encouragement to us all that Goliath, no matter how big and strong can be defeated—if you have God on your side, if you have the skill and you hone it, if you have the courage to confront your fears, if you work very hard and if you use unconventional weapons to confront, to scare, to surprise and to conquer the enemy. In the Bible, David surprised, unnerved and confronted Goliath with a catapult and the word of God. Today, whatever is your Goliath, God will help you to overcome it. God is the giver of talents, honour, greatness, fame, fortune. When Muhammed Ali was calling himself the “Greatest” he wasn’t competing with God. Far from it. I am reading a book by Joel Osteen titled “THE POWER OF I AM.” And through it, I find meaning in the life and times of Muhammed Ali who coined the phrase: “I’m the greatest.” In life, we must confess the positive. Joel Osteen says: “When you go through the day saying: “I am blessed… blessings pursue you. I am talented… talent follows you…I am healthy…health heads your way…I am strong…strength tracks you down.”
Ali called himself the greatest boxer that ever lived and God put His stamp of approval on that. Today, almost everybody agrees that Ali was the greatest—not just the greatest boxer but the greatest sportsman ever.
You must be the “greatest” in something in Jesus name. Maybe you want to be the “King of the Tabloids” or the greatest headline writer that ever lived. There is nothing wrong in aiming high to be the best that ever lived in your profession, in whatever calling, in whatever talent God gave you. God gave Muhammed Ali an unusual talent, and he used it to the glory of his maker.
For young Cassius Clay, it started when a thief stole his bicycle and he boasted to a policeman about giving the thief a beaten, but the policeman told him, Boy, before you can whup anybody, you have to learn first to fight. So he took him to his gym and trained him to fight. That is how God works. He will send someone to train you or train your child to the height of greatness.
Like everyone else, Muhammed Ali is one boxer I adore and who has been an inspiration. Last year, I was in Phoenix, Arizona and my regret is I didn’t visit Louisville, Kentucky, the hometown of my hero. If only I knew he would die so soon. But no one knows when the bell of quittance will toll.
Ali’s death is a reminder that the bell of death tolls for everyone—great or not that great. Ordinary or extraordinary. Champion or the vanquished. Winner or loser. The lesson I have learnt is that at the end of the day, God is the only true champion. Anyone born of a woman who sleeps and wakes can be knocked out at any time by God the Father, the real Godfather who never sleeps. That’s why I feel so sorry for those who found themselves in the position to serve Nigeria, but they ended up ruining our beloved country, looting our resources, failing to build the right infrastructure with our oil money in the time boom, making us suffer today, making us “Rumble in the Jungle” called Nigeria where we now live in perpetual darkness.
Goodbye Stevie Wonder!
I was in the middle of writing this Muhammed Ali tribute when the news came in through the social media that Stephen Keshi, the first Nigerian coach to win us the African Cup of Nations has passed away after a heart attack. My dearly beloved reader, this is too much for me to bear. I cannot write again. I can no longer gather my thoughts to continue this column. It hurts to think that I spoke with Stephen Keshi not too long ago and he was so nice, so humble. All through our conversation, he accorded me with the respectful “sir”. Oh, what a life! And what is life? The “Big Boss” has finally been summoned by the Big Boss in the sky in whose hands our fate lies. Like Muhammed Ali, the “Greatest” Nigerian to ever manage the Super Eagles is gone! Gone the way of the world. Gone the way of all flesh.
A lot of tributes have come worldwide for Muhammed Ali. My favourite is by the folksinger and poet Bob Dylan. And that goes for Stephen Keshi too: “If the measure of greatness is to gladden the heart of every human being on the face of the earth then he truly was the greatest.”
How I wish my favourite woman-poet Maya Angelou is around to pay her tribute to Muhammed Ali but she too is gone. On her behalf, I wrote this poem which opens this column:
OUT of clay, you moulded this clay of a man (Cassius Clay) and turned him into a great work of art. A masterpiece from the Supreme Artist that you are. You our Creator, our Father, our Master, our God, our everything. Out of clay we came. Into the clay we go, leaving all our vanities behind.