The Courier-Journal from Louisville, Kentucky • Page K3

The Courier-Journal 5,2016 3K would become, arguably, the most famous person in the world, but in 1954, he was just a crying 12-year-old boy, mourning the loss of his Marcellus Clay Jr. had been eating free hot dogs and popcorn at the downtown Louisville Service Club, the story goes, when someone tole his practically new red-and-white Schwinn bicycle. delivered him to Joe Martin, a police officer who trained oung boxers in the Columbia Gym. The tearful boy told the oliceman he wanted to find the thief and him. Learn to fight first, Martin counseled him.

THE EARLY YEARS Young Clay was hardly a boxing prodigy as he learned from Martin and, later, from Fred Stoner at the Grace Community Center. But Cassius was a dedicated student, transformed by the ring. made me feel like somebody he would say a dec- a de later in a Sports Illustrated story, just before winning the world heavyweight championship. ut that title was just a fantasy as Cassius turned serious about boxing. Classmates remember him running alongside the bus to Central High School, throwing punches at the air.

And when his after-school job as a cleaner and messenger at Spalding niversity (then known as Nazareth ollege) was over, walk across he street to the Columbia Gym to rain. About the onliest (other) sport I ver thought about was he ould say in a 1975 Playboy magazine interview. I like it, because there was no personal publicity in it; ou have to wear too much equipment and people see you. went with boxing because fight- rs can make more money than other athletes, and the sport cut off by a eason, like He won 100 of 108 amateur fights, icking up six Kentucky Golden loves titles. I 1960 he graduated near the bot- tom of his class at Central High School.

had my mind so wrapped up in boxing, I work hard in he explained in his 1975 autobiography, As his fame grew, reports of his academic deficiencies varied wildly. ne had him 313th in a class of 323, another 376th out of 391, still another dead last in a class of 157. Whatever is rank, he soon became the most distinguished member, winning agold medal at the 1960 Olympics in Rome. all knew be champion of the classmate Abdullah Lateef recalled. Clay almost make he trip because he was afraid of fly- i ng.

But Martin, his mentor, talked im into taking the journey during a ong conversation in Cent ral Park. the way to the Olympics, the oxing team stopped in New York, where Ali encountered his boxing idol, five-time middleweight champi- Sugar Ray Robinson. stopped by a nightclub in Harlem, because Sugar Ray my idol, eve idol was Ali told Playboy. just wanted to see him and ouch him. I waited outside for him to leave that club, and I was hoping alk to me and maybe give me his auto- raph.

Man, never forget how bad I elt when he turned me down. Sugar ay said, kid, how I a got and then got into his car and took off. I said to myself right hen, I ever get great and famous and people want my autograph enough to wait all day to see me, sure to treat Dick Schaap, the late sports writer and broadcaster, recalled the event differently. In the documentary Fights and Times of Muhammad chaap said that Robinson did meet with Ali and other Olympic boxers at his restaurant, and signed autographs or them as he sat at their table. Clay won the gold medal and friends in Rome, where he was seen a a gregarious gamesman armed with a camera and a winning smile.

He ran backward alongside the famous printer Wilma Rudolph, promising to marry her someday. His parents, Cassius Clay a sign painter, and Odessa Clay heard about his triumph on an evening newscast at home. At first the medal meant so much to Ali that he wore it to bed, sleeping on is back lest it dig into his chest. But 1975 biography, said the medal soon became meaning- ess. According to the book, Ali was denied service at a Louisville restaurant because of his skin color.

And then, according to the book, that offense was compounded when he and a friend, on bicycles, were chased by a white mot orcycle gang. A fter fighting off the gang, Ali said threw his gold medal into the Ohio iver, realizing it was a sham. That tory, however, has been discredited a an invention of the Nation of Islam promote its most famous convert. In the movie the details changed: There was no motor- ycle gang. Ali threw away his medal because of shabby treatment by one of his wealthy white backers in Louis- ille.

Both stories involved being snubbed at a restaurant. A best friend, photographer Howard Bingham, buy either tory. I know what happened with he he told The Courier-Jour- nal in 2005. know that he did not throw that into the Ohio In time, the mythology around Ali would grow larger and more lustrous. But there was no need to make up anything.

The truth was unbelievable nough. His fighting style itself inspired disbelief. He stood up straight, with is face exposed and his arms down, flicking his head backward or sideways to dodge blows. Ali explained his style to Sport magazine: had my hands down because that would suck a man in, make him come to me. I was faking, I was pened up, but I could pull back just nough like radar.

I would judge my istance and leave him about an inch ut of range. He would throw a punch, a nd move back another inch and miss me by two rainer Angelo Dundee try to change approach. him was a whole differ- nt ballgame from most he said. have to push. It was like jet propulsion.

Just touch him and took off. He used to say, train And I he was ight. I directed him, and made him feel that he was the ut Clay was about to change, hough no one could have suspected in hat way or how much. TOM HE COURIER-JOURNAL Joe Martin, a ouisville police officer, started entoring Cassius lay in 1954. He would talk Clay i nto going to the 1 960 Olympics despite his fear of lying.

COURIER-JOURNAL FILE PHOTO Central High students cheer Cassius Clay as brother Rudy holds his hand aloft. C. RAY HALL SPECIAL TO THE COURIER-JOURNAL Seeds ofa champion planted in Louisville gym Ihad never met any 18-year-old kid like him. I had certainly met no athlete like him. He had this image, he had this aura he was creating of himself.

No sneaker company was oing it. No sponsor was doing it. He was doing it, and he was doing it for the sheer joy of DICK SCHAAP sports writer and broadcaster.