I'm Not The Greatest, But I Have Met Muhammad Ali

“Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee!”

No I’m not the Greatest, but I have met Muhammad Ali.

As a child I had the honor of not just meeting him, but spending time with him. My father was assigned to him via the New Orleans Police Department as his bodyguard.
Words can only begin to express the profound and prolific impact such men made on my life. Yes, I am putting my father right up there with Ali, you will too after this.

Sit back, relax and enjoy the ride.

First let me take you back in time to 1978. It was a time when Hotel California as well as disco were on AM radio. When the Archie Bunker Show and the Rockford Files were on our console televisions, and if you were lucky, you may have scored that old black and white set in your own room.

On Saturday mornings we would watch Schoolhouse Rock and boy how those songs helped us out years later when we had civics exams. To all those who know what I’m talking about, stop singing I’m Just a Bill and start reading again.

What a special time it was in New Orleans as well! We were hosting the biggest event in boxing that year: the Muhammad Ali versus Leon Spinks fight in the Superdome. The same place that America’s team, the Dallas Cowboys, beat the Denver Broncos during Superbowl XII which was the first Super Bowl in primetime as well as indoors.

Was it a simpler time? For me, without a doubt. I was a kid for Pete's sake. The world was just coming into focus for me. What a time for that.

My dad was bigger than life: an all pro football player for the Dixie League, a motorcycle policeman, now Muhammad Ali's bodyguard. Too bad I was too young to actually attend the fight.  My older brother and I did watch it on TV at grandma's house, with mom and dad busy on the night!

I remember a gift Mr. Ali gave my dad. It was a "warm-up suit," a brown and tan Adidas model.  It looked just like the Champ’s and even had Muhammad Ali’s name on the back. Let me tell you that back then there was one type of lettering...HUGE!

The other neat thing was the cut of the outfit.

It was called the "athletic cut," a new way (at the time) of making clothes for professional athletes.  You see, back then, an extra large jacket with large pants yet a slim waist line was not the norm.

Back in the day, dad was not able to buy different sizes that actually fit off the rack; this was like Christmas for him. I think he wore it a few times, but then realized just how special it was.

The location of said suit is confidential; however, it is very safe!

Don't get me wrong, sports were a very integral part of life back then, but the aspect of taking care of the athlete was not the business it is now. 

This brings me to the way Mr. Ali trained.

He rented a house in a suburban area of New Orleans; Lakeview to be exact.  Some may be familiar with the area, as it was hit fairly hard during Katrina. Ali did this in order to continue training, but in our weather. The humidity in August and September is brutal.

I remember asking my dad why wouldn't he just go to a gym to run? The response was something along the lines of, "it's conditioning the body above and beyond the sport you want to excel at," and how those words still ring true in all areas of sports and life.

Just as the city loved Ali being here, he loved it, too.

He would jog every morning thru the neighborhood as part of his workout. Everyone, especially the children, knew this and would come outside to witness Greatness. Ali did not disappoint. He would, quite regularly, not only sign autographs, but talk and play with the kids.

He knew how much of an "idol" he was, that he was making a difference. He took this role very seriously, even then. He was beyond race issues that I am sure were around, but not around us.

To us he was just Mr. Ali, the man that tickled my dad's feet to wake him for their morning run. The same man that didn't let a loss a few months before define him. He let his comeback win do that:

Do you know if I beat him the first time I wouldn't have got no credit for it. He only had seven fights . . . the kid was nothing. . . . So I'm glad he won. It's a perfect scene. You couldn't write a better movie than this. This is it. Just what I need. Competition. Fighting odds. Can the old champ regain his title for a third time? Think of it. A third time. Do or die. And you know what makes me laugh? He's the same guy. Only difference is he got eight fights now.
—Muhammad Ali on Leon Spinks before their championship rematch fight

It still amazes me that I not only met him, but sat on his lap and was tickled by him!

Spending time with him away from the spotlight gave me such a perspective of Ali the man. The wonderful memory of the Champ rolling on the floor with his kids reminds me to enjoy those down times as often as possible.

He loved his sport while always making time for his family, as did my dad.  In turn those memories make me a better mom!

Thanks Dad!

Thanks Champ!