Ali’s ‘Rumble in the jungle'

You have to be of a certain age to understand why Casius Clay, aka Muhammad Ali, was as close to a God like figure Black boys would ever find. And I was no exception.

Many of us back then were at schools where the first thing you learnt was to fight and be good at sport.  If you could fight you were less likely to be bullied.  And if you were good at sport, you got the respect of your friends and it was something you could be proud of.

At that time, everything around us screamed ‘inferior, second class citizen…’. It wasn’t just the brutal insults: ‘rubber lips’ ‘wire hair’, Black wog’. In many ways they were easier to deal with than the unspoken attitudes which we just sensed, that reminded us of our alienation.

Within that cultural backdrop, one man above all reminded young boys like myself that we could be Black and proud.  Muhammad Ali.  A few years before that most famous of fights, ‘The rumble in the Jungle’- the Brazilian football player Pele gave us enormous Black pride by winning the World Cup with perhaps the greatest international team ever assembled. But Pele barely spoke. And when he did it wasn’t about the Black experience. 

In contrast Muhammad Ali wouldn’t shut up. He talked, he rhymed, he danced, he harangued racist America, and if that wasn’t enough he took heavyweight boxing to a new level of artistry that defied logic.  A big heavy man like that cannot move like a ballet dancer.  Ali did.

Furthermore, everything about that fight was consumed with Black power.  It was in Africa, the promoter was Black - the infamous Don King, the entertainment was Black, James Brown and his entourage were Black.  This was a global statement of intent that brought joy around the Black world, unprecedented in its scale and execution.  To this day.

Of course,  the very sad part of this otherwise glorious story was the shameful demonisation of George Foreman. Forman, like most Black sportsmen of that era, was largely controlled by his white backers. That didn’t mean he was any less Black, but like Joe Frazier before him Ali characterised Foreman as an ‘Uncle Tom’.  The defeat and the cruel indignity left this fine, dignified individual a broken man for years after.

But when in the ring that night in Kinshasa, Ali, some way past his best, defied age and logic by beating the stronger Foreman by physically sapping his physical and mental strength.  ‘That didn’t hurt, George!’  Ali would taunt, ‘Is that all you’ve got?’ he whispered in his ear close up.  Foreman would rain blows that would have felled a lesser man.  In the end, spent of energy and the will to win, you could almost hear Foreman saying, ‘What do I have to do to beat this man?’  Sensing victory, Ali summoned up a final burst of strength with a flurry of blows that would see the man mountain fall defeated on the canvas.  In that glorious moment, and perhaps in every sense of the word Muhammad Ali had just become the greatest.

Virtually the next day, all my friends and I took up boxing. I could dance like Ali – I mastered the Ali shuffle - but I couldn’t take a punch.  One of my best friends at the time, Chris Pyatt, could take a punch and dance like Ali too. He went on to become a World Champion middleweight boxer 

In hindsight what Ali did - by his own admission - to fellow Black boxers was disgraceful. But what he did to the pride of young Black men by beating down racism was beyond measure. Because of him we all walked tall.

Simon Woolley