To define the life of Cassius Clay, later known as Muhammad Ali, could not be contained in simple words or eulogized by the mountain of quotes that the "Louisville Lip" popularized in his heyday. It would be impossible to define him simply for his stance against an unjust system in America during the Civil Rights Era.
Even more, you could not define him by his unsurpassed skill and determination in the ring of the sweet science of boxing as he took on all challengers and became the face of a generation.
Muhammad Ali was so much more than that. His complexity was only matched by his bravado and quick wit. His mission wasn't to be the richest or most popular fighter, it was much more than that. It was to give that 9-year-old child growing up in Detroit's section 8 housing someone to look up to when their father wasn't around. It was to inspire confidence in a people who felt that no one stood up for them. His voice was loud and proud; his enemies called him arrogant, his supporters called him fearless.
No, his greatness was defined by his willingness to give up everything for what he believed in. He was willing to sacrifice championship gold and the fame to hold fast to his faith. Did I agree with everything he said? Not always, but I respected the strength of his convictions. Ali knew that the greater reward was to be received long after the final bell had sounded. People didn't follow him because of his "rope-a-dope" strategy; they followed him because of his presence. He was a symbol of power and pride.
One can be accomplished without being respected. One can be liked without being admired. Ali was all of those things, and it wasn't because of his sharp tongue or blinding speed, it was because he knew that true greatness goes beyond the cheers of man. As a native son of Georgia, this image of Ali will always burn brightest in my mind, long after the flame of the torch has flickered.
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