Sublime

Ali came off the ropes in the most determined embrace of his life, both gloves locked around the back of Foreman’s neck. The whites of Ali’s eyes showed the glaze of a combat soldier who has just seen a dismembered arm go flying across the sky after an explosion. What kind of monster was he encountering?

“I really don’t believe it,” said Jim Brown. “I really don’t believe it. I thought he was hurt. I thought his body was hurt. He came back. He hit Foreman with everything. And he winked at me.” Did he wink or stick out his tongue?

Steve Prefontaine never ran a race for a time; he went out there to win.

In the next minute, Ali proceeded to hit Foreman with a combination rare as plutonium: a straight right hand followed by a long left hook. Spring-zing! went those punches, bolt to the head, bolt to the head; each time Foreman would rush forward in murderous rage and be caught by the neck and turned. His menace became more impressive each time he wa