A Moment with Muhammad Ali

Muhammad Ali and I shared a moment. It’s true. It was the year 19__, and I was in my senior year of college in upstate New York. For some reason no one could figure out, our SUNY school was chosen as the first official location of the Special Olympics. It was to be an impressive affair and I don’t think anyone at our school was prepared for the spectacle or the outpouring of celebrities, local and national TV stations and huge throngs of special needs kids carted in from all over north western New York to participate. Everyone from Eunice Shriver, Teddy Kennedy, Christopher Reeves, Susan St. James, was there, and it was filmed by WABC Wide World of Sports, featuring the Gif! (Frank Gifford) as the official announcer of the games. About two weeks prior to the games start, a huge monument of… I wish I could remember what — was delivered to our campus and erected in front of the library — a sculpture, a gift from the U.S.S.R. to commemorate the games. Impressive. This was our first hint of just how serious an affair this was going to be.

Because I was a communications major, I had been interning for BTV, our campus TV station, and we in turn had the honor of interning for WABC Wide World of Sports, as they set up and filmed events taking place all over the campus. For the most part, this entailed standing around and gawking at all the celebrities as they showed up for the shoots, the games and the awards, as the network TV unions would not allow any college kids to touch any of their equipment or cables. Union rules. It was exciting though, and we’d scored a cool gig.

At one point, a few days into the games I was assigned the uber cool gig of “setting up” (ie: standing around and watching them set up), a boxing ring in one of the gyms where a mystery guest was going to be “fighting” the "guest contestants." That mystery guest turned out to be none other than Mr. Ali himself, and as he made his way up into the ring to test it out I just happened to be standing right by it, gawking and asking my fellow student gawker if that really was who we thought it was.

There was no mistaking him however, as he loomed so large, with such an imposing presence that the whole gym, filled with about 30 interns and union guys suddenly became silent and stand still. I remember thinking that something big was about to happen, although I had no idea what.

Then he was by himself, walking laps around the ring, until he took a seat on a small stool set up in one of the corners. I stood there watching him, and suddenly he said to me, very softly, “Come here, young lady!” As I looked around to see who he was speaking to he said it again, and when I turned around to face him he gestured to me. To say I was a bit intimidated was an understatement; after all this guy was the size of a Volkswagen Beetle. A Volkswagen Beetle with a very soft husky voice that didn’t seem to match his size.

So I climbed up into the ring and we had a moment. He asked me what I was doing there and a few other questions which seem to allude me, and forget remembering my answers, I’m sure I just gurgled something incoherent. But here’s what I do remember: When he noticed how nervous I was, he reached out and took my hand — my right hand — and holding it between his two mammoth paws (honestly, they were like hard baseball mitts), raised it up to his mouth and kissed the back of my hand as though I was Princess Grace of Monaco. And he said this: “Little girl, there is no reason in hell why you need to feel nervous in front of me. I am your friend. Do you understand?” And that was that.

I think I must have nodded like a bobblehead, he then very gently kissed my left hand, and just as if it had never happened I descended out of the ring and held my hand. Then the other one. I’m sure I looked a little odd, standing there, holding my own hands.

About 15 minutes later the volunteers began filing in with the athletes, to get up into the ring and spar with The Champ. A few didn’t know who he was, but could tell he was someone very important; you could see the delight in their eyes as one after the next had the chance to KO this imposing presence. For the ones who did know who he was, the air became electric. It was a moment that wouldn’t be duplicated ever in their lives and they knew it.

Time and time again Ali let these kids run him around the ring, chasing him down with their huge gloves flailing, a few leaping yards onto him, and he seemed just as gleeful, just as in the moment as they were, as though he too was a kid again. He moaned, he swayed with drama, he wobbled around in circles, he held his side and cried out as their inefectual crazy punches which must have felt like a flea bite landed on his torso, his legs, and a few times he even encouraged a little face contact.

It was a beautiful thing to watch. This heavy weight champion of the world, the best of the best, the guy Seth Godin in Permission Marketing says “did not become heavyweight champion of the world by punching 20 people one time each. He became the champ by punching one guy 20 times”; a guy whose reputation as the meanest, toughest SOB in the game, how this guy stood there and play acted with everything he had with over 50 special needs kids, letting every one of them win the rounds and the match each and every time was nothing short of spectacular.

Each time the “ref” would come around and declare the kid a winner, Ali would lie there on the floor of the ring, pretending to be too tired to even lift his head, but you could hear the groans. The kids squealed and laughed and were made to feel like champions themselves, just this once, as they were paraded around the ring, hands held high, with towels sporting big monogramed — or they may have been painted — a large golden 'C' for Champion. A few of them had to be dragged out of the ring if I recall correctly. A few times Ali would drag himself back up and ask to have another go, then collapse back into a puddle with a highly dramatic splat after one quick jab to the gut. 

An amazing gift, this huge heavyweight champ of the world was giving them. A gift of a lifetime. I’m sure he knew it.

I’ve never forgotten that day, and I think back every now and then wondering how many of those special needs kids who are still around today remember their big moment in the ring with Ali. And if that moment remains for them the best moment of their lives to date. And if Ali really understood the magnificent gift he gave us, myself included, but especially the kids, who each had their moment of glory in the ring with Muhammad Ali.

*Dedicated to the Super 7 BNI group I promised this story to.

Suzen Pettit, a longtime Brookfield resident, is principal at Omaginarium and Omagine Health, a marketing firm specializing in growing small businesses and medical practices by creating search engine optimized websites, internet marketing, social media marketing, and SEO 

Contact Suzen at 203-733-8578 or email her at Suzen@omaginarium.com.