The Conversation: Muhammad and Larry, Boxing and MMA

Jones,

First off, I'm in total agreement about ESPN's "30 for 30." I think we all have our frustrations with the network, which has become such a powerful force in the world of sports, I've come to view it the way I view Google and Microsoft, in some respects. I need it in my daily life, but I also am wary of how deeply it influences the way people view things. Give Bill Simmons credit though, since this idea is essentially his baby. The documentary series reminds me of what made me fall in love with ESPN when I was a teenager. It's about storytelling, not shameless self-promotion, and nowhere was that more evident than in the "Muhammad and Larry" documentary.

It's true, I never saw Ali fight. I was 4 years old when he mercifully put down his gloves for good. But he had such an impact on our country, and sportswriting to be honest, I've always tried to seek out stuff that captured what a charismatic figure he was. I recently read David Remnick's book "King of the World," which covers the time from Ali's high school days to his second fight against Sonny Liston, and it's absolutely fascinating. He really was the first athlete who refused to fit into the box that both the public and the press wanted him to fit into. He was black, he was proud to be a Muslim, and he refused to humble himself for the sake of anyone else. It's remarkable to think about what our culture was like 50 years ago, when there was so much outrage over the fact that African-American men like Ali refused to be patient when it came to demanding equality. I understand why Larry Holmes probably feels slighted when compared to Ali, even today, but anyone with a grasp of the larger history can understand why that is. Larry Holmes was a great fighter. But Muhammad Ali was so much bigger than boxing.

Seeing him struggle to bang that speed bag was a heartbreaking moment. Ferdie Pacheco was right. Everyone who enabled Ali's fight with Holmes (not to mention his fight against Trevor Berbick, which is only alluded to at the end) should be ashamed of themselves. But you hinted exactly at why the fight still happened, and probably why the footage of this has never aired until now: This is a sport run by shadowy figures in the most shadowy city in the United States. Does anyone really believe that Las Vegas boxing commissions make decisions based on anything besides money? If Evander Holyfield and Mike Tyson agreed to fight yet again, and one of the big casinos thought it could turn it into a major event, there is no doubt in my mind a fight like that would happen, even though Holyfield is showing some of the same signs of deterioration that Ali was and Tyson's mental state has been in question for years. And people would probably watch because there is such a dearth of talent in the heavyweight division these days. The other professional sports have sucked all the life out of boxing. Think about someone like Ray Lewis. Had he been born 40 years ago, he might have been a heavyweight fighter. Instead, he became one of the greatest middle linebackers ever. No one becomes a boxer now unless they have no other options.

I think my favorite part of the documentary was Ali doing magic tricks for kids. It was, in many respects, a metaphor for everything about his last few fights. He had everyone spellbound that he could pull off yet another magic trick. And we believed, even though the truth was right in front of our eyes, because we wanted to believe.

I had a friend once ask me what it was that I liked about boxing. He wanted, in all serious, for me to explain its appeal. Why was I not horrified by two grown men pummeling each other? I struggled to come up with a legitimate answer. He scoffed when I mentioned the artistry of throwing punches and playing defense, and rolled his eyes when I tried to explain that it really is the most courageous thing a man can physically do, because he's all alone in that ring. He was somewhat disgusted, but he wasn't about to change my opinion one bit. There is a reason, I said, much of the best sportswriting that has ever been penned has been about boxing.

I sort of wonder why we -- and by that I mean you and I -- can't quite embrace mixed martial arts in a similar way. Why doesn't it possess the same mystique for us as the sweet science does? I find it compelling, but not romantic the way I do boxing. I can't imagine Norman Mailer or W.C. Heinz or George Plimpton or Gay Talese writing about cage fighting in the same eloquent way they wrote about boxing. But are they really that different? You can make a pretty strong case, and several studies have, that MMA is actually less dangerous than boxing.

Seeing Ali barely able to talk these days also makes me wonder about something else. What happens 20 years from now if Lewis is suffering from a similar deterioration? Or Brett Favre? Isn't the NFL just as brutal and violent, in some respects? When I see Pacheco decrying the enablers who shaved years off Ali's life, I wonder whether someone won't be saying the same thing about NFL players in the not so distant future.

No longer floating like a butterfly,

KVV

If I were an offensive or defensive lineman in the NFL, I'd be fearful. They're bigger and stronger than ever, and the pounding they take on a play-by-play basis is frightening. Studies have shown that NFL players, by and large, die younger than most. And sad tales of suicide by guys like former Eagles safety Andre Waters have been linked to the head shots they took while playing the game. But you know what, it's an occupational hazard. In boxing, too. I think it's incumbent upon the athlete to get in, make that money, and get out. Want to know who I think is one of the most brilliant living athletes? Lennox Lewis. He is obnoxious as they come, but he is a top-10 all-time heavyweight, and he was smart enough to get out of the game with his mind in check.

As for MMA versus boxing, two reasons pop out as to why we can't get behind MMA the way we can the sweet science. The first has to do with gumbo. You know, that spicy, New Orleans treat made up of ... well, nobody knows exactly what it's made of, but hey, when it's done right like at a hole-in-the-wall spot off the French Quarter, the taste is something to behold. Still, on its best day, gumbo can't outdo a first-rate steak, the kind you only find at five-star restaurants. Granted, I've only had maybe two my whole life, but I remember them to this day.

I liken boxing to the simplicity of a steak. The limited space between head and waistline, the defense, the intelligence it takes to hit and not be hit, the gloves. It's limitless strategy within a confined space. Too much goes into MMA. I watch it and I'm at a loss trying to figure out its rules. Are there any? It's gumbo -- a hodgepodge of violence.

The second reason we're drawn to boxing, of course, are the personalities. They make the sport. I'd argue that three of the top 10 most fascinating athletes of all time are boxers: Ali, Mike Tyson and Jack Johnson. I'm at a loss naming others who can provide never-ending volumes of material that could fill up Enoch Pratt like Ali, Tyson and Johnson.

It's why I enjoyed the Ali-Holmes documentary. For me, it gave a peek into an Ali that few have seen. One that's equally important.

I was amazed by how much his speech had slowed. I never got the feeling he wasn't there mentally, but physically he was falling apart before our very eyes. And he was 38.

You touched on ESPN, and I want to go back there quickly. Why are they burying this documentary series? They promo the heck out of Chad Ochocinco going face-to-face with Skip Bayliss on "First Take," choreographed drivel I found nauseating -- highlights repeated on "SportsCenter." And now the network has some of the most compelling sports footage and stories I've seen in a while (at least through the first four episodes), and I've hardly seen a word about. It's not prevalent on its Web site, and the only mention on the network are the occasional obscure house ads. For once, ESPN, do your thing and promote this to death.

I wish I could interview Ali. You and I have talked to a decent number of high-profile athletes over the years, but I can't say I've ever been star-struck by any of them (With the exception of Mike Singletary. I wasn't a Bears fan like you growing up, but I admired the way he played the game. When I wrote a profile about him when he was linebackers coach for the Ravens, I flashed back to being 10 years old and watching him tear up the field. He will forever be one of my favorite players.)

Beyond asking Ali whether extending his career was worth putting him in the state he's in now, I'd rather talk to him about race in America as he sees it today. From a sports standpoint, I'd love to her his thoughts on the modern-day high-profile athlete's inability to stand for much of anything, like he did. You got any questions for Ali?

Trying to remain pretty,

P.S.

Much like everyone else, we're giving Holmes the short end of the stick by almost not mentioning him. So let's bring him into the fold.  What was up with Holmes and that horrific music? The only thing worse was his attempt to sing along. I've heard better tunes coming out of Central Booking and Intake. I did like the way he pimped his car out in 1980 with a tape deck and, literally, a car phone -- one I think he dragged out of his grandmother's house and installed on the dash board. A man ahead of his time, that Holmes.

Jones,

I think that gumbo/steak analogy might be the best description I've ever read of mixed martial arts vs. boxing. And as a Montana man, I think you know I've had a few good steaks in my day.

I guess I'm just not smart enough to see the poetry in mixed martial arts, at least not yet. The violence, I understand. I feel like part of the reason boxing's popularity waned is because fighters like Floyd Mayweather were so good at not getting hit, it turned off the people who weren't purists. A.J. Liebling might be able to wax poetic about the art of slipping punches, but some people just want to see another guy get blasted in the face. Maybe we should be blaming the "Rocky" movies. Rocky led with his head and had the worst defense in the history of boxing. His strategy in the Clubber Lang and Ivan Drago fights seemed to be "I think I'll let them punch me in the face until they get tired, and then I'll make my move." Too many people think this is the ideal style of boxing. They want to see contact. Mixed martial arts gives it them, guaranteed.

It's true, we are giving Larry Holmes the short end of the stick, just as history did. But I actually liked Holmes singing in his car. I thought it was an oddly tender moment. And watching him cry after the fight with Ali was kind of beautiful. It showed me he really was a good person who realized how horrible it was for him to have to beat on Ali like that just because people didn't have the guts to stop the fight. He was an incredible heavyweight who will never get his due though. Even before this documentary, the thing I remembered most about him was the time he jumped off a car and kicked Trevor Berbick in the face. That phone was epic, though. I wish I had one of those in my car right now.

But that image is a nice transition into your point about the most colorful athletes being boxers. I think that's true, in part because most boxers don't have a filter. Or at least they didn't for a long time. So many athletes now are corporations. They're terrified of saying something interesting because they fear it might put their corporate sponsorships in jeopardy. I guess I do admire that about Chad Ochocinco. The dude pretty much says whatever is on his crazy mind, consequences be damned.

Reading Remnick's book about Ali made me realize how much sports journalism has changed since then. Basically, if you covered boxing back then, you could hang out with Ali in his hotel room and ask him anything you wanted. Didn't matter whether you worked for Sports Illustrated or the Newark Star-Ledger. Covering a fight meant spending a few weeks in the camp of each fighter and getting inside his head, and the fighters were happy to talk about just about anything. These days, you can count on one hand the number of journalists who have had a one-on-one with Tiger Woods in their career. No one has ever been inside his hotel room or his house. And I think we're all lesser for it.

I can't imagine what ESPN would do with Ali today. What's interesting when you read about him, and when you watch this documentary, is how much opinions changed over the course of his career. The writers hated him when he started. They wanted him to be Joe Louis or Floyd Patterson, and he refused. And that infuriated them. But by the end, they adored him.

Let me close by saying, isn't it about time President Barack Obama pardoned Jack Johnson? Is there anyone who would be against this? They man was jailed for dating outside his race and might have been the greatest heavyweight of all time otherwise. It's a shame, but not a surprise, talk of pardoning him has taken this long. It seems like something Rahm Emanuel and Obama could get it done by lunch.

Rumble young man, rumble,

KVV

P.S.

When is Bundini Brown's hairstyle going to come back in vogue?  Greatest hairstyle ever, as far as I'm concerned.