The name conjures bragging rights to greatness.

Muhammad Ali was not only a boxer to me. I had his face posted on my bedroom like a fixed mantra.

When father brought home my first Everlast boxing gloves, i just had to strut like a butterfly and sting like a bee.

I somehow think that his lip-swag served as therapy for my shyness into adolescent braggadocio. 

My favorite moment was the genius of the Zaire fight with George Foreman. It was mind over brawn. Rope-a-dope.

The news of his death yesterday pinched hard.

I really hope to see him someday.

I guess, that is not my call.

I don't even have a clue where his ropes leaned on the last few seconds of his final round.

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