On January 17th, 2012 Ali celebrated his 70th birthday. His reaching that ripe old age gave me pause to reflect on him, his career, and the concept of GREATNESS.
I remember, as a kid, that excitement rippled through school, amongst my friends, for 3 types of events more than any other things that happened in our world. Those three events were, the end of the school year, any Evel Knievel stunt, and Ali-Frazier boxing matches.
The end of the school year is obvious; free time, unlimited baseball at the field behind our house, sleeping in and staying up late. What could be better?
Evel Knievel was the ultimate showman, and a cartoonish character that many of us admired for his brave (foolhardy?) ability (dumb luck?) that enabled him to perform spectacular stunts. The fact that he broke a lot of bones and had to walk with a cane due to stunts gone wrong, but was still willing to get back on a motorcycle to attempt more difficult stunts spoke to us of his courage (inability to hold a steady job?). Discussing whether he’d be able to successfully complete his next jump was a major topic of discussion amongst the boys at Washburn Elementary School in Bloomington.
Ali-Frazier. NO event stirred the passions of young boys as much as a heavyweight championship fight pitting Muhammad Ali against Smokin’ Joe Frazier. There were definite favorites and people typically loved one and hated the other. Me? I liked ‘em both, but usually rooted for Frazier to win. Ali was a little too boastful and arrogant for my likes. It wasn’t until years later I learned ‘it ain’t braggin’ if you actually done it’. Ali could back up his boasts as he was one of the greatest boxers we’ll ever see.
But what of Ali’s greatness? One school of thought posits that a certain gift, or genetic makeup is required for one to have a chance at greatness. Obviously a short man has little chance of being an NBA great, just as a tall man or woman has little chance of riding a mount to the Kentucky Derby winners circle. Ali had the physical tools, 6 foot 3 inches tall, muscular physique, and lightning quick reflexes.
Studies have revealed that it takes 10,000 hours of practice at a pursuit to even expect to reach expert status. It doesn’t matter the pursuit; dance, playing the cello, boxing, they all require a vast amount of quality training.
How does one get quality training though to achieve greatness? In Ali’s case a lot of the help came from largely unheard of trainers, handlers, and sparring partners. There were A LOT of people behind the scenes helping him achieve greatness.
I think that’s more common than people realize. I first heard the term “Help-mate” at my Dad’s retirement. Someone used that term to describe Mom. I hadn’t really ever thought very deeply about how effective their relationship was, but the term "help-mate" made me think.
Dad was up in the pulpit on Sundays, serving on commissions during the week, and ministering to his congregation around the clock. How was he able to tirelessly serve so many people? The answer to that question sat at the kitchen table with us every day, as we ate a meal she prepared, with a family she raised, in a home she maintained, so her husband could do what he was expert at.
Mom was willing to do the unsung, largely unheralded things in order to support Dad; kind of like the sparring partners, trainers, and dieticians, who helped Ali develop into a world champion. Some do the mundane support work so others can do the more noticeable things. Thanks Mom for all you have done to support Dad and others.
For 15 years I worked as an equipment manager for the Golden Gopher football team at the University of Minnesota. I wasn’t the one running the offense or making a game saving tackle, but I was a part of the crew that took care of the uniforms and equipment so that others could do those things. I was always happy to be one small cog in that very large machine.
For the past 7 years I’ve worked as an accountant at the U of M doing invoicing and reporting on the federally funded research grants. I’m not the one doing the ground-breaking research, or writing peer-reviewed papers, but the work I do helps others do those things.
I always used to compare myself to Dad and figure that the acorn didn’t fall far from the oak. I guess I’ve also got a lot in common with Mom too, helping others to acheive greatness.
Who knew?
PS I’ve gotten 2 in-person glimpses of greatness in the form of heavyweight champions. Evander Holyfield cut an imposing figure in the concourse of the Metrodome escorted by 8 bodyguards in formation at the opening ceremonies of the Special Olympics. Impressive.
Muhammad Ali, in town for the 1992 Superbowl, emerging from a limousine in the Hyatt parking lot, waving, bowing, and acknowledging a crowd that wasn’t there was both chilling and sad. I nearly cried seeing how Parkinson syndrome had ravaged this once imposing figure.
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