Don't Start the Revolution Without Me! - Jesse Ventura [30]
The big fights weren’t on pay-per-view then, but all heavyweight title bouts were broadcast live on the radio. My brother and I occupied the upper part of our little house in south Minneapolis, and whenever a heavyweight fight happened, my dad would come up and sit with us. All three of us would be glued to the play-by-play on the radio. When Sonny Liston knocked out Floyd Patterson in the first round, that “family experience” lasted all of about fifteen minutes.
When the Clay-Liston bout was about to happen, I’d actually been predicting that Clay would win. Even though nobody got past a few rounds with the “Big Ugly Bear,” and the “Louisville Lip” wasn’t given a chance. I had Clay’s record album, I Am the Greatest! I’d memorized it.
So I was ecstatic when Liston failed to come out for the eighth round. I always remembered Clay screaming, “We shocked the world!” after the fight, and that’s all I could think of when I went out for my acceptance speech. Not long after this, I was in the transition office of the Capitol when on my schedule appeared the name Harvey Mackay. He’s a prominent businessman who wrote the book Swim with the Sharks. Harvey came walking in with a big gift-wrapped box, and I was thinking, “What the heck could this be about?” Setting the box down, he said, “You’d better open that, governor.”
Inside was a pair of red Everlast boxing gloves and, written in magic marker on one of them was: “To Governor Jesse Ventura—You Shocked the World. Muhammad Ali.” I was stunned. Harvey told me that Muhammad was watching TV the night I won.
Harvey then set it up for us to go visit Muhammad on his farm in Berrien Springs, Michigan. Four state troopers accompanied us—my two security guys from Minnesota, one from Indiana, where our plane landed, and another from Michigan. We spent a whole afternoon with Muhammad. It was a dream come true for me to be sitting on a couch with the Champ, creating a friendship. His wife, Lonnie, told me that he’d barely slept the night before, he was so excited I was coming. I was awestruck—Muhammad Ali, excited to see me?
As the world knows, Muhammad suffers today from Parkinson’s disease. So you do most of the talking, and he answers more with his eyes. We walked out to his gym and got in the ring together. They took some photos of us boxing, as well as my putting him in a headlock. It was there that Harvey talked me into reciting “I Am the Greatest” from the record album.
“This is the legend of Cassius Clay, the most beautiful fighter in the world today, who talks a great deal and brags indeedy, of a muscular punch that’s incredibly speedy. The fistic world was dull and weary, with a champ like Liston things had to be dreary. Then someone with color, someone with dash, brought fight fans a-runnin’ with cash. . . .”
I hadn’t heard that album for thirty years, but I did the whole thing from memory. Muhammad was standing next to me and, when I finished, I could see a tear in his eye.
Isn’t it ironic that a white kid from south Minneapolis would have a black Muslim for a hero? Some people have said to me, “How can you, being a Vietnam veteran, look up to a guy like him who refused induction into military service?” My response is, “Because Muhammad is a man who gave up everything for his convictions. He was willing to sacrifice the greatest title in the world for his beliefs.” You know damned well that Ali would never have seen Vietnam. He’d have done his boxing exhibitions on the military bases. But he wasn’t going to play that game. I have tremendous respect for that.
Something I noticed when I walked into his home: On a shelf in his living room, in equal prominence, are the Koran and the Bible. Obviously, they both carry a deep meaning for him. I imagine he reads both. For people who don’t believe that Ali truly believes, they’re wrong. Like I said, he’s a man of conviction. Always has been, and always will be.
Muhammad is also big into magic. While we were there that day, somebody said to him, “Muhammad, do you feel