The greatest

The old, Italian barber had trembling hands. He was in his mid to late 80s, and he was cutting my hair. This was about 25 years ago. His barbershop – now owned and operated by his son, my current barber – was adorned with old photos of boxers and baseball players. But the old barber, he was all about boxing. All he ever talked about was the great Rocky Marciano, with a few sprinklings in there about Rocky Graziano, Primo Carnera, Jake LaMotta. Italian boxing legends, every one of them.

The old barber’s son, at the time a young barber, told the old man that I was a sportswriter. “A sportswriter, huh,’’ the old man sniffed. “OK, son, who was the best boxer who ever lived?” Reflexively, without even thinking, I blurted out: “Muhammad Ali.” The old barber, hands trembling, holding sharp scissors, stopped cutting my hair. He had a serious look on his face as he stared into the mirror at me. I’m thinking, “Oh s—t, I’m in trouble here. You’re Italian, you idiot! Why couldn’t you mention one of the Italians? He’s wielding sharp objects!” Then, the old, Italian barber, he breaks into a smile, pats me on a shoulder and says: “You’re right, son. Ali was the greatest who ever lived.”

I woke up this morning to the news of Muhammad Ali’s death. For the past 30 years, he has been a sympathetic and inspirational figure – a “secular saint,” the New York Times wrote. That belies a very complicated early life. Very complicated. But as a child of the 1970s, when the heavyweight boxing division was big news, there was no character bigger than Muhammad Ali. His epic battles with Frazier and Foreman were pure blood sport. The savage beatings that he dished out and received left him a frail and trembling man in his older years. A 15-round bout with Chuck Wepner, known as the “Bayonne Bleeder,” was the impetus for the series of “Rocky” movies; those who know me realize I love those old movies.

And so today, we lose the man who called himself the “Greatest of All Time.” In his prime, in the 1960s and 1970s, he was a man who was larger than life. For those in my age category, he was a huge character in our youth, in our formative years. When historical figures like Muhammad Ali die, a little part of that youth goes will it and we realize the relentless march of time. The greatest is gone. There will never be another like him.