My Lunch with Muhammad Ali
“The Champ” - Always “The Champ” and More
One of the most memorable experiences from my time at the University of Louisville happened because I was always involved in numerous multicultural projects. Our university president had been in the middle of a dialogue with Muhammad and Lonnie Ali about their proposed Muhammad Ali Center for Humanity and Justice along with how the university could support its mission.
By then, Muhammad Ali had become an icon of social change in America and had cultivated his legacy as one that would heal wounds, not create them. A lunch was planned so that some faculty could learn more about his proposed center and how our interests might relate. The President sent out a call for proposals and faculty responded with their relevant priorities and activities. From these, a group was invited to a lunch to have conversations about how to move forward together.
I received an invitation and expected to find 50+ people from throughout the university in the faculty club dining room. To my surprise, there were 15 of us seated at a long, narrow oval table in no particular order except the president at the end of the table. I chose a seat in the middle.
How could I know that Lonnie and Muhammad would take seats directly across from me! Wide- eyed, I smiled and nodded, thinking. “OMG! What now?” The usual introductions, eating lunch, going around the table sharing about our activities lowered my anxiety. Lonnie did all the talking for them at this stage of The Champ’s life. He had been selectively mute for years because of his Parkinson’s disease and developed an array of performances to tease people when he interacted with others. However, none of that was really on my mind. I was taken back to the 1996 Olympics in Atlanta, which I attended in person with friends. From our hotel room (the cheap seats!), we watched as this legendary man held the torch in one shaky hand and limped his way toward the final lighting of the eternal flame. There was not a dry eye in the universe. Of course, the crowd erupted. Later, I learned that he had stopped going out in public until after Atlanta. It was then that he began non-verbal joking around with admirers in public.
Story behind Muhammad Ali 1996 Olympic torch lighting moment - Sports Illustrated
I watched with tremendous admiration as Lonnie gave voice to their dreams and aspirations at this lunch. What a lucky man to have such a wife by his side. She was a childhood friend who grew into a wise, loving, strategic partner who was a genius at managing his complexity and their dreams.
I was inspired by her. I idolize her to this day. A role model for me and all women.
Did he read my mind? I don’t know. I believe he had magical powers! Nevertheless, I wasn’t prepared for what happened next. Under the table . . . “Oh, excuse me,” I thought. I must have bumped the table leg or something that was there . . . no, not the table . . . oh, surely not his leg ... oh, not MY leg . . . what? Really? He had slipped off his loafer shoe (convenient style!) and was bumping my leg with his stocking foot. Oh my gosh! Is he playing footsie with me??
I looked under the table and looked at his face. Of course! But at this point, I froze. Gone was my own memory of his many antics with others - only shock and amazement for me! Here I was in this sentimental reverie and then this! What do I do now? I remember smiling but I don’t remember if I took off my shoe and returned the favor (amnesia or missed opportunity!). Even now, I worry that I didn’t fully appreciate that moment and the next one to come. I was dumbstruck.
Amid our discussions, there was a point near the end of the lunch when a Black male professor (I wish I could remember his name) spoke out: “You know, Champ, when I was a boy, my dad took me to your fights. We watched all your fights. We followed you. It’s because of you that I’m here today. Because of you, I had dreams that I followed. Because of you a young Black boy could make it here. I just want to say ‘thank you. You will always be The Champ.”
Of course, my colleague had no idea The Champ was playing footsie with me, or that I was taken away from the greatness of this moment, but he brought me back to it in this vivid and heartfelt tribute. Not a dry eye in the room. I paused at that moment to recognize that I, as a white-looking Japanese woman, occupied a seat at his table that millions of adoring people (especially my Black brothers and sisters) would have given anything to fill.
I felt such an obligation to them and much guilt that it was me and not them at this table at that moment.
While this experience happened so many years ago, it has become more important to me than ever. Yes, I followed him and Lonnie in the media from then on. I drove by his childhood home and noted the marker. I visualized that Black boy being angry when someone stole his bike and how he landed in the care of incredible boxing coaches. And I don’t even like boxing! But, all this happened in West Louisville.
No, I wasn’t able to collaborate on a project related to violence prevention before I left that university. But, did I take this moment to further their legacy in other ways? Of course! (See my advocacy page on indigenous practices.) So many things from Louisville came with me to California. A Rites of Passage program for boys, the CRDP research in California. Oh yes, he went with me. I set aside the day of his funeral and watched in collective mourning and admiration with the rest of the world. And inscribed on his funeral program, absolutely, he stays with me: