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https://www.esquire.com/sports/a4551...-cassius-clay/
And one of the best quotes (which real fans will resonate with) - but I stress, the WHOLE article (long) is worth the read:
And one of the best quotes (which real fans will resonate with) - but I stress, the WHOLE article (long) is worth the read:
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So I'm all for boxing, although I admit that the existence of boxing says something about our society and the violence that it needs. When a fighter kills in the ring he does not go to jail; instead he gains a strange new respect from some people, maybe just bloodthirsty people, but this respect is something like that given to a war hero who has killed many men in battle, and when a fighter becomes a killer the boxing promoters know that more people will come out to watch him fight the next time. So violence and hate are part of the prizefighter's world, Clay's world and mine, although we do not hate one another, nor do I hate Liston or Ingemar Johansson or any other opponent, and I am sure the feeling is the same with them. We fight but we do not really hate down deep, although we try to pretend we hate. Sometimes it is all very confusing, we become very mixed up. And we are afraid.
We are not afraid of getting hurt but we are afraid of losing. Losing in the ring is like losing nowhere else. People who lose in business—get fired from their job, or lose a client, or "get kicked upstairs"—can still go down with some dignity and they might also blame their defeat on an ungrateful employer or on the unfair competition. But a prizefighter who gets knocked out or is badly outclassed suffers in a way he will never forget. He is beaten under the bright lights in front of thousands of witnesses who curse him and spit at him, and he knows that he is being watched, too, by many thousands more on television and in the movies, and he knows that the tax agents will soon visit him—they always try to get their share before he winds up flat broke—and the fighter cannot shift the blame for his defeat on his trainers or managers or anybody else, although if he won you can be sure that the trainers and managers would be taking bows.
So I'm all for boxing, although I admit that the existence of boxing says something about our society and the violence that it needs. When a fighter kills in the ring he does not go to jail; instead he gains a strange new respect from some people, maybe just bloodthirsty people, but this respect is something like that given to a war hero who has killed many men in battle, and when a fighter becomes a killer the boxing promoters know that more people will come out to watch him fight the next time. So violence and hate are part of the prizefighter's world, Clay's world and mine, although we do not hate one another, nor do I hate Liston or Ingemar Johansson or any other opponent, and I am sure the feeling is the same with them. We fight but we do not really hate down deep, although we try to pretend we hate. Sometimes it is all very confusing, we become very mixed up. And we are afraid.
We are not afraid of getting hurt but we are afraid of losing. Losing in the ring is like losing nowhere else. People who lose in business—get fired from their job, or lose a client, or "get kicked upstairs"—can still go down with some dignity and they might also blame their defeat on an ungrateful employer or on the unfair competition. But a prizefighter who gets knocked out or is badly outclassed suffers in a way he will never forget. He is beaten under the bright lights in front of thousands of witnesses who curse him and spit at him, and he knows that he is being watched, too, by many thousands more on television and in the movies, and he knows that the tax agents will soon visit him—they always try to get their share before he winds up flat broke—and the fighter cannot shift the blame for his defeat on his trainers or managers or anybody else, although if he won you can be sure that the trainers and managers would be taking bows.
dannnnn
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