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By Lyle Fitzsimmons - If anyone’s wondering… the answer is yes.
As I headed north on I-75 Saturday and heard the news on ESPN Radio that a certain former heavyweight champion was in the final stages of a battle with liver cancer, I did feel bad.
And when I heard Tuesday morning that he’d succumbed to the disease, I felt worse.
In spite of anything I’ve ever written, thought or otherwise opined about Joe Frazier regarding his deserved rank among the sport’s all-time greats, I surely wasn’t wishing any ill upon him.
I didn’t hate the man. In fact, it’s quite the contrary.
Having only competed in the ring myself on the smallest of scales, I have tremendous respect for anyone with the courage to have done it on a larger one – and even bigger admiration for those who’ve earned anything beyond moderate levels of success in doing so.
Clearly, Joe was one of those guys.
He was, for a time, the best heavyweight in the business. He did, under the brightest of spotlights, win a fight that set the standard for all “Fights of the Century” that have followed.
He had, without question, a career the other 99.9 percent would have killed for.
Those are facts only a fool would deny.
But whether I believe his bust in Canastota is worthwhile or not is, at this point, immaterial.
And regardless of where anyone else weighs in on the debate, it’s hardly a time to toss verbal grenades back and forth determining whether the opposite viewpoint holds any water.
There was time for that in months past. There’ll be time for it again someday.
But right now, we ought all simply agree to respect the accomplishments the man had, hope for his family as much comfort as is possible and wish him well in whatever life exists in the next phase past this one. [Click Here To Read More]
As I headed north on I-75 Saturday and heard the news on ESPN Radio that a certain former heavyweight champion was in the final stages of a battle with liver cancer, I did feel bad.
And when I heard Tuesday morning that he’d succumbed to the disease, I felt worse.
In spite of anything I’ve ever written, thought or otherwise opined about Joe Frazier regarding his deserved rank among the sport’s all-time greats, I surely wasn’t wishing any ill upon him.
I didn’t hate the man. In fact, it’s quite the contrary.
Having only competed in the ring myself on the smallest of scales, I have tremendous respect for anyone with the courage to have done it on a larger one – and even bigger admiration for those who’ve earned anything beyond moderate levels of success in doing so.
Clearly, Joe was one of those guys.
He was, for a time, the best heavyweight in the business. He did, under the brightest of spotlights, win a fight that set the standard for all “Fights of the Century” that have followed.
He had, without question, a career the other 99.9 percent would have killed for.
Those are facts only a fool would deny.
But whether I believe his bust in Canastota is worthwhile or not is, at this point, immaterial.
And regardless of where anyone else weighs in on the debate, it’s hardly a time to toss verbal grenades back and forth determining whether the opposite viewpoint holds any water.
There was time for that in months past. There’ll be time for it again someday.
But right now, we ought all simply agree to respect the accomplishments the man had, hope for his family as much comfort as is possible and wish him well in whatever life exists in the next phase past this one. [Click Here To Read More]
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