Contrary to what you can make regular readers of this blog, I do not despise the sport, quite the opposite. One of my biggest regrets is not being good at any team sport, although I was a good skater and a decent rider. But the most popular sports in these latitudes, football, basketball, volleyball, I was always plain horrible (although I discovered how to make myself useful in football, eliminating real players' skills through pure and simple violence and foul play). Over the years I developed a fierce hatred of football culture-two words that should not be antithetical, but they are, and football as a measure of all things, but I can not help being moved like an old cop against soap opera when occasionally I run into one of those moments of sheer beauty that competitive sport gift, infrequently, like all good things. And I've seen great things, saw a goal from Diego Aguirre in 120 minutes against America de Cali (which it does not take manya to have screamed), I saw four tries that Jonah Lomu he put England in the Rugby World Cup 1995, saw the incredible win and break the world record Yelena Isinbayeva -the finest of sportsmen in 2004, I saw two goals from Diego Maradona -that for me are the same goal in two acts, to England in 1986, I saw Sugar Ray Leonard in the early '90s, I saw Michael Jordan win only the epic semi-final against New York Knicks in 91, I saw Ben Johnson beat Carl Lewis in Rome '87 (give a fuck that was doped), saw the Netherlands of Euro '88, I saw Nadia Comaneci , saw duels Borg - McEnroe in 80, all ...
wonderful things I saw, however, not directly at least, the most exciting and amazing of all sporting moments, something that goes beyond mere competition to become a legend moral, a lesson of beauty, discipline and courage given by the greatest athletes of the twentieth century: Mohammed Ali , or rather, by two of the largest, Ali and George Foreman . I'm talking, of course, the "Rumble in the Jungle " the fight for the heavyweight championship in Zaire in 1974.
This fight is for me a unique quality, I've seen, fragmented or almost full, dozens of times, in documentaries about Ali, in any collection of great moments in boxing or sports in general, even in recreation with which Michael Mann tried to convince the world that Will Smith could emulate the graceful figure of Ali ... all excite me, always, inevitably, it gives me goose bumps and my eyes are glazed. Each and every one of boxing movies have tried to reproduce its rhythm, dynamics of resistance and ultimate redemption, but none, not even my favorite boxing film, Undisputed ( Walter Hill, 2002) - will come not to heels in terms of dramatic tension and beauty. Mann, Smith had to film with close-ups from the waist up or just the legs, because neither Smith nor anyone else could replicate the grace of Ali, the guy who made boxing a dance ritual. Oriana Fallaci was ordered for me since long before he wrote his books anti-Arab racist. The was from that described Ali as a "loudmouth ignorant" and a man with no interest. "The Lip , a loudmouth? Without a doubt, is the man who turned to be a loudmouth into an art. "An ignorant, a man with no interest? Poor Oriana, how far the men who spent his entire life ... repellant human interest not see the last of the warrior-poets overrides anything the Italian has said in his life or his death.
Both my enthusiasm a few days ago, mentioning in passing that Ali and fight, and thus embark on a huge monologue about, "I offered to lend me a book he knew but he had never put your hands on: The Fight of Norman Mailer , ie chronic Mailer was on the "Rumble in the Jungle." Of course that interested me and of course I read it in one sitting just fell on my hands. Mailer always seemed a formidable writer, but a horrible problem of identity that led him to change his style much more often than recommended. But when you sink your teeth into something, as in Tough Guys Do not Dance or The Armies of the Night is unsurpassed, and The Fight was writing about his favorite subject and a hero.
Obviously the book is brilliant, among other things porque Mailer no se queda atrapado por su fascinación por Alí y le da un buen espacio a estudiar a Foreman, a su manera un boxeador casi tan notable como Alí.
Pero todo este post viene a cuento de algo que no sabía y que me electrizó al leerlo; una de las características de la pelea Alí-Foreman que la convirtieron en leyenda es el abrumadora ventaja previa que tenía Foreman a su favor. Alí era ya un boxeador veterano que había pasado sus mejores días, venía de los largos años en que no lo dejaron luchar y le quitaron su título por no haber querido ir a Vietnam porque “ no vietcong has ever called me nigger ” (¿qué otro deportista sin ser Alí ha sido ever capable of such an act of courage, of giving the best years of his career to save his soul and understand weight of circumstance and place?), and in those years had lost circulation and shape. Foreman was young, had the biggest blow that I had ever seen (to this day is considered that it was the stronger fighter stuck in the history of boxing, even stronger than Iron Mike Tyson ) and came to demolish in two rounds with Joe Frazier , who had beaten Ali. Had destroyed Ken Norton, who also had beaten Ali. It was a killing machine, was the Christian black, ugly, disciplined, patriotic and nationalist who was in front of subversive Muslim Ali handsome and vain. And betting was 8 to 1 in his favor. Even within the circle of Ali confessed there were many who have prayed, not because Ali Foreman won but that will not kill or cripple it forever, which was nothing remote possibilities.
But Ali won and if you do not know the story, go and read it somewhere on the web. Or rather, consíganse documentary When We Were Kings .
The fact that he knew about the fight and I mentioned before is that Ali had not heard that Foreman would say something before the fight, which was leaving him worried. Mailer played what later became known that Ali told Foreman while the referee gave them instructions. He said, "Have You Heard of me Since You Were Young. Since I've Been Following You Were a little boy. Now, you must-meet-me, your master! . "
No Hollywood screenwriter never imagined such a heavy caliber. It is clear that the fight was won over to Ali before, because we must respect the time when the truth is stranger than fiction.
Leo, while along some information for this post that, how could it be otherwise between two men who go through together a moment of such importance, though be on opposite sides of the ring-Ali and Foreman ended up being friends. And when the documentary Leon Gast about the fight, When We Were Kings , won the Oscar for Best Documentary, Foreman helped Ali, and consumed with Parkinson's disease up to receive the award so amazing registration. Luckily I did not see, because one is not in stone and we must maintain the reputation of elegant insensitivity.
0 comments:
Post a Comment