It was the fall of 1963 and I was a senior at Central High School in Detroit Michigan. Football practice was just about over and I was happy for that. There were more important things in life right now: Like catching a glimpse of the Greatest of All Time: Muhammad Ali.
The school was abuzz with the rumor that Ali was paying a visit to the Muslim Temple No. 1 which was located directly across the street from Central on Linwood Avenue. Everybody knew who Ali was; he had fought hometown favorite Sonny Banks in 1962 and was knocked down for the first by Sonny. Ali came back and was awarded a TKO over Sonny in the fourth round. But that is not what made Ali the greatest.
Ali was outrageous. He recited poetry, he predicted the round he was going to knock out his opponent. He floated like a butterfly and stung like a bee. But most importantly, the message he sent to Black People was that it as okay to speak about what was on your mind. It was okay to be different. It was okay to be a man and speak about what was right and what was wrong. He told us it was okay to be yourself.
But that's not why I wanted to see Ali. Ali needed to know there was a challenger right in our midst. My football coach, Corky Foster said he could best Ali in arm wrestling. Corky was a short powerful man with large forearms. Could he beat Ali?? Suddenly there was an entourage of cars traveling down Linwood stopping in front of the Temple. A crowd had gathered and all of a sudden there he was! Being the showman that he was when hearing of the challenge Ali asked, "Where is he? I'll Kill him!!" Ali struggled briefly with his body guards, winked at the crowd and went into the Temple. There would no arm wrestling today.
That's how I will always remember Ali: that brash young man that played to the crowd who always spoke his mind.
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