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.