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He was so mean he made medicine ill
- Thread starter al70
- Start date
Yeah but it would be awesome to see! Sorry for being off topic
Someone in the press had told Ali that Smoking Joe Frazier was going to knock him out. His reply was, "What in the world is Smoking Joe Smokin?"
I think standing up to the US Government and not allowing himself to be drafted was a courageous thing, especially for someone of color in that time in America. That war in Viet Nam was not protecting US Soil. It was an experiment where the Communist and the West matched each other militarily instead of going toe-toe in the USSR, China or USA. He was right and I support his decision to say the US Government is wrong sometime. Kind of like when they made the whole world prohibit cannabis..
I think standing up to the US Government and not allowing himself to be drafted was a courageous thing, especially for someone of color in that time in America. That war in Viet Nam was not protecting US Soil. It was an experiment where the Communist and the West matched each other militarily instead of going toe-toe in the USSR, China or USA. He was right and I support his decision to say the US Government is wrong sometime. Kind of like when they made the whole world prohibit cannabis..
Oh come on.if Tyson connected with Ali's chin with a left hook you think he would still win? The only reason Tyson bit holyfields ear was he was getting pissed that the refs were letting holyfield close in and head but and shit.in a fair fight Tyson would win.but I'm a fighter.not a boxer with is a sport.I could be wrong
R
Rubber Chicken
The people in the background of that picture look like ghosts.....
I'm not taking anything away from Ali.he has my respect.but let's not get over our heads hear.he was a boxer.not a fighter.unless you count the white people he wanted to fight.I'm sorry I'm just speaking my mind.its fucking true.I like the guy.I liked his movie.but the only thing that he was the greatest at was talking shit. Either way I'm sorry he passed
I wanna say I'm sorry about my frank statement.but I know fighting and a good bit of boxing.it was a lot of intimidation and fixed fights.especially when done king came into the picture.I blame him and his cronies for ruining boxing.being heavyweight champ of the world was a bigger title than president of the USA.but those times are over now I guess
Not Fightin' Billy Goats
Not Fightin' Billy Goats
Classic Ali
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fuX7FlddCRg
Not Fightin' Billy Goats
Classic Ali
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fuX7FlddCRg
that man was one bad mofo...in the ring and out...rest in peace man ...yeehaw
A giant of a man and a hero of mine as a very young man, from when he resisted. He resisted the war against a poor people and refused to cowtow no matter the costs as we are not slaves. And he didn't run to Canada like some friends of mine did he resisted right here and suffered the penalties. And because of him so did I even from inside the navy in 1970. Thank you Muhammad and RIP.
Here's a rememberence in the players tribune
This Is Muhammad Ali’s Legacy
Jun 4 2016
Tommie Smith
Track & Field / Gold Medalist
When I think of Muhammad Ali, the image of a boxer isn’t the first thing that comes to mind. And it’s not an image from one of the many famous photographs of him — of the athlete and the man. It’s something else entirely, almost out of a dream. Ali is standing on a diving board. He’s alone, one hundred feet above a distant pool below. He’s looking down, wondering, Is there enough water down there?
Two days ago, when I learned that Ali had been hospitalized, I wrote him a letter. I wasn’t sure if my note would reach him in time. Part of me knew it wouldn’t. We’re both more than threescore and 10 years old and have known each other for many years. I just wanted to talk to my old friend.
This morning, I’m grieving. We all are. Our country is mourning the mighty soul of a man. Ali was my hero. If our presidents get a sentence in history, Ali deserves at least a paragraph.
Two days ago, when I learned that Ali had been hospitalized, I wrote him a letter.
Today we are all desperately pushing buttons on our computers and searching for stories to help us make sense of Ali’s legacy. We’re staring at his iconic photos in the hopes that if we look long enough, perhaps we can hang on to some of his magic for just a little while longer.
I’m deeply saddened that I won’t get to see Ali again and that he will never get to open my letter. The man meant so much to me.
Here’s part of what I wrote to him:
***
Dear Muhammad,
When I stood on the podium in Mexico City in 1968, you were with me.
When I ran for gold medals, your spirit was the wind.
When, throughout my life, I worked up the courage to speak out against systemic injustices in our society, your strength echoed in my voice.
When I was told, “Don’t shake things up” and “Don’t cause trouble,” you were there saying, “Speak up. Get louder.”
When I wanted to quit — and we all flirt with quitting at some time — I would think about how many times you had had every reason in the world to say, “Cut the tape off. I’m done.” You’ve always had little use for excuses.
Ali, you taught many to stand. Whether it was on a podium or on principle, you showed the strength to stand — even when it was unpopular.
***
In times of grief, it’s easy to exaggerate the greatness of our heroes. Let us tell the truth about Muhammad Ali. Very few people in this world put action behind their words. Muhammad Ali did. He shone a light on humanitarian issues and he opposed war and racism, clearing the way for generations of athletes. When he spoke, people listened. More importantly, when he spoke, he gave birth to new voices.
Let’s allow ourselves to mourn. But then let’s get back to work.
I’m reminded again of the image in my mind of Ali on the diving board. The waters below are dark and what’s beneath the surface is unknown. Throughout his life, Muhammad Ali had the faith and the fortitude to leap. It’s the image of a man undeterred and unafraid. Ali felt deeply about what needed to be done in our society, in our systems and in our hearts, so he stepped out onto that diving board and didn’t worry about the risk below.
The man who floated like a butterfly and stung like a bee is no longer with us. Let’s allow ourselves to mourn. But then let’s get back to work. Now it’s our job to carry Ali’s torch.
Find your place to stand.
Find your song to sing.
Float.
Sting.
There’s no time to waste.
Rest in peace, my friend.
http://www.theplayerstribune.com/tommie-smith-remembering-muhammad-ali/
Here's a rememberence in the players tribune
This Is Muhammad Ali’s Legacy
Jun 4 2016
Tommie Smith
Track & Field / Gold Medalist
When I think of Muhammad Ali, the image of a boxer isn’t the first thing that comes to mind. And it’s not an image from one of the many famous photographs of him — of the athlete and the man. It’s something else entirely, almost out of a dream. Ali is standing on a diving board. He’s alone, one hundred feet above a distant pool below. He’s looking down, wondering, Is there enough water down there?
Two days ago, when I learned that Ali had been hospitalized, I wrote him a letter. I wasn’t sure if my note would reach him in time. Part of me knew it wouldn’t. We’re both more than threescore and 10 years old and have known each other for many years. I just wanted to talk to my old friend.
This morning, I’m grieving. We all are. Our country is mourning the mighty soul of a man. Ali was my hero. If our presidents get a sentence in history, Ali deserves at least a paragraph.
Two days ago, when I learned that Ali had been hospitalized, I wrote him a letter.
Today we are all desperately pushing buttons on our computers and searching for stories to help us make sense of Ali’s legacy. We’re staring at his iconic photos in the hopes that if we look long enough, perhaps we can hang on to some of his magic for just a little while longer.
I’m deeply saddened that I won’t get to see Ali again and that he will never get to open my letter. The man meant so much to me.
Here’s part of what I wrote to him:
***
Dear Muhammad,
When I stood on the podium in Mexico City in 1968, you were with me.
When I ran for gold medals, your spirit was the wind.
When, throughout my life, I worked up the courage to speak out against systemic injustices in our society, your strength echoed in my voice.
When I was told, “Don’t shake things up” and “Don’t cause trouble,” you were there saying, “Speak up. Get louder.”
When I wanted to quit — and we all flirt with quitting at some time — I would think about how many times you had had every reason in the world to say, “Cut the tape off. I’m done.” You’ve always had little use for excuses.
Ali, you taught many to stand. Whether it was on a podium or on principle, you showed the strength to stand — even when it was unpopular.
***
In times of grief, it’s easy to exaggerate the greatness of our heroes. Let us tell the truth about Muhammad Ali. Very few people in this world put action behind their words. Muhammad Ali did. He shone a light on humanitarian issues and he opposed war and racism, clearing the way for generations of athletes. When he spoke, people listened. More importantly, when he spoke, he gave birth to new voices.
Let’s allow ourselves to mourn. But then let’s get back to work.
I’m reminded again of the image in my mind of Ali on the diving board. The waters below are dark and what’s beneath the surface is unknown. Throughout his life, Muhammad Ali had the faith and the fortitude to leap. It’s the image of a man undeterred and unafraid. Ali felt deeply about what needed to be done in our society, in our systems and in our hearts, so he stepped out onto that diving board and didn’t worry about the risk below.
The man who floated like a butterfly and stung like a bee is no longer with us. Let’s allow ourselves to mourn. But then let’s get back to work. Now it’s our job to carry Ali’s torch.
Find your place to stand.
Find your song to sing.
Float.
Sting.
There’s no time to waste.
Rest in peace, my friend.
http://www.theplayerstribune.com/tommie-smith-remembering-muhammad-ali/
Muhammad Ali Answers "What Will You Do After Boxing?"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IlYQwFxhkuo
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IlYQwFxhkuo
I'm sorry about my harsh words.I take them back.I was drunk and I'm too young to of understood what you guys were saying.sorry
one of the baddest men on the planet
hes fighting on mars now (awsome raido broadcast)
http://bigthink.com/big-think-tv/muhammad-ali-boxing-on-mars-video
hes fighting on mars now (awsome raido broadcast)
http://bigthink.com/big-think-tv/muhammad-ali-boxing-on-mars-video
The full quote (poem) of the OP's thread title.
"Only last week I murdered a rock...
Injured a stone...
Hospitalized a brick...
I'm so mean I make medicine sick."
He was brash and it was part of the fight game. He even said it was his mouth that got the attention of the promoters that landed him the Liston fight.
"Only last week I murdered a rock...
Injured a stone...
Hospitalized a brick...
I'm so mean I make medicine sick."
He was brash and it was part of the fight game. He even said it was his mouth that got the attention of the promoters that landed him the Liston fight.
Watching a great documentary right now with rare home videos of Ali.its called I am Ali.its on Netflix
The Opinion Pages | Op-Ed Contributor Muhammad Ali Shaped My Life
By WALTER MOSLEYJUNE 5, 2016
Cassius Clay being escorted from an armed forces examining station in Houston, Tex., after refusing to join the army. Credit Associated Press
When I was 15 years old some kid at my school asked me what I felt about the draft and Vietnam. He wanted to know if I expected to go to war and if I was happy about that possibility. I told him that I had no intention of fighting the Vietnamese, “first, and most importantly, because I have no desire to be killed or maimed and secondly, because I feel no hatred toward or fear of the Vietnamese people.” These are the words I used and even at the time I wondered where they had come from.
The answer was, of course, Muhammad Ali. His courageous and articulate stance against the imperialism of that war had seeped into my awareness without my knowledge; that’s how powerful he was. I mean, he was fast and strong in the ring, but Ali’s rope-a-dope or phantom punches were nothing compared with his character, his commitment to a code of conduct, and his unique ability to motivate the entire world.
I remember the day I became aware of the Champ. My mother was driving me to school after he won the heavyweight title from Sonny Liston. At a crosswalk a black man passing in front of our car suddenly turned and, raising his fists into the air, announced loudly, “I am the greatest!” I was frightened by the man’s violent outburst, but even then I heard the pride and hurt, the dashed ambition and the shard of hope that cut through him. Cassius Clay’s declaration had become his own. The Black Pride movement was on, and one of its pillars were these four words.
Ali brought white college students together with black militants in their fights against war, racism and class oppression. His words were powerful, but I feel that it was his presence and willingness to engage that opened the doors between the races. Not everyone loved him. If you choose a side and commit to change, if you’re brash and outspoken and brave there are bound to be detractors. If you put human life above nationalism, or one God over another, there will be haters. But even here, over the decades, Ali changed many hearts and minds.
And he did this without the trappings of many social and political leaders. We always felt that he was one of us and with us because he was a working man. He was our John Henry. He was sweat and bone, blood and pain. That’s the language of the worker. And like most people, who build the world with their sweat and strain, he had his best years taken from him.
He took on some of the baddest fighters that ever got into the ring. Many of his opponents were stronger than him; some matched him in heart; there were others who went toe to toe from the first round to the last, taking a great toll from him. And later on there were men younger and hungrier than he. But Ali was a magician in the boxing ring. He was the embodiment of the sweet science. He beat big men like Liston and George Foreman, smaller men made from iron like Joe Frazier, and hard, hard hitters like George Chuvalo and Earnie Shavers.
Unlike most of his predecessors, Ali made his opponents famous, at least in the boxing world. To fight Ali was money in the bank, your name in the newspaper, and the assurance of future fights in the spotlight.
Ali was possibly the most recognizable face and name in the world. And it’s hard to be that famous unless you are a fiction like a movie star or have an army or a movement behind you. Ali was loved because he walked with us and took the barbs and arrows, body blows and head shots, the prejudices and dismissals.
He believed in himself absolutely, but that faith did not diminish the rest of us. He loved the crowds who greeted him. They felt it, returned it and fed off it. When I sat next to him at a TransAfrica event in Washington years ago, he told silly jokes that anyone from 6 to 60 could enjoy. He would do magic tricks for people. Ali’s confidence allowed him the greatest gift — to be just another human being bemused by Creation.
He rose, head and shoulders, above us, but those shoulders were broad enough to allow us to climb up there with him and see that we’re in this together.
Walter Mosley is the author of “Charcoal Joe: An Easy Rawlins Mystery.”
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/06/06/opinion/muhammad-ali-shaped-my-life.html?module=Promotron®ion=Body&action=click&pgtype=article
By WALTER MOSLEYJUNE 5, 2016
Cassius Clay being escorted from an armed forces examining station in Houston, Tex., after refusing to join the army. Credit Associated Press
When I was 15 years old some kid at my school asked me what I felt about the draft and Vietnam. He wanted to know if I expected to go to war and if I was happy about that possibility. I told him that I had no intention of fighting the Vietnamese, “first, and most importantly, because I have no desire to be killed or maimed and secondly, because I feel no hatred toward or fear of the Vietnamese people.” These are the words I used and even at the time I wondered where they had come from.
The answer was, of course, Muhammad Ali. His courageous and articulate stance against the imperialism of that war had seeped into my awareness without my knowledge; that’s how powerful he was. I mean, he was fast and strong in the ring, but Ali’s rope-a-dope or phantom punches were nothing compared with his character, his commitment to a code of conduct, and his unique ability to motivate the entire world.
I remember the day I became aware of the Champ. My mother was driving me to school after he won the heavyweight title from Sonny Liston. At a crosswalk a black man passing in front of our car suddenly turned and, raising his fists into the air, announced loudly, “I am the greatest!” I was frightened by the man’s violent outburst, but even then I heard the pride and hurt, the dashed ambition and the shard of hope that cut through him. Cassius Clay’s declaration had become his own. The Black Pride movement was on, and one of its pillars were these four words.
Ali brought white college students together with black militants in their fights against war, racism and class oppression. His words were powerful, but I feel that it was his presence and willingness to engage that opened the doors between the races. Not everyone loved him. If you choose a side and commit to change, if you’re brash and outspoken and brave there are bound to be detractors. If you put human life above nationalism, or one God over another, there will be haters. But even here, over the decades, Ali changed many hearts and minds.
And he did this without the trappings of many social and political leaders. We always felt that he was one of us and with us because he was a working man. He was our John Henry. He was sweat and bone, blood and pain. That’s the language of the worker. And like most people, who build the world with their sweat and strain, he had his best years taken from him.
He took on some of the baddest fighters that ever got into the ring. Many of his opponents were stronger than him; some matched him in heart; there were others who went toe to toe from the first round to the last, taking a great toll from him. And later on there were men younger and hungrier than he. But Ali was a magician in the boxing ring. He was the embodiment of the sweet science. He beat big men like Liston and George Foreman, smaller men made from iron like Joe Frazier, and hard, hard hitters like George Chuvalo and Earnie Shavers.
Unlike most of his predecessors, Ali made his opponents famous, at least in the boxing world. To fight Ali was money in the bank, your name in the newspaper, and the assurance of future fights in the spotlight.
Ali was possibly the most recognizable face and name in the world. And it’s hard to be that famous unless you are a fiction like a movie star or have an army or a movement behind you. Ali was loved because he walked with us and took the barbs and arrows, body blows and head shots, the prejudices and dismissals.
He believed in himself absolutely, but that faith did not diminish the rest of us. He loved the crowds who greeted him. They felt it, returned it and fed off it. When I sat next to him at a TransAfrica event in Washington years ago, he told silly jokes that anyone from 6 to 60 could enjoy. He would do magic tricks for people. Ali’s confidence allowed him the greatest gift — to be just another human being bemused by Creation.
He rose, head and shoulders, above us, but those shoulders were broad enough to allow us to climb up there with him and see that we’re in this together.
Walter Mosley is the author of “Charcoal Joe: An Easy Rawlins Mystery.”
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/06/06/opinion/muhammad-ali-shaped-my-life.html?module=Promotron®ion=Body&action=click&pgtype=article
