This week marks the 50th anniversary of one of boxing's greatest fights: the Thrilla in Manila between Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier. As Ali's authorised biographer, I watched the bout with him in 1989, and he still winced at the blows years later.
For a book I was writing, Ali and I reviewed his fights. We laughed at Henry Cooper's left hook and noted the punches from Frazier and Norton. But watching the Thrilla in Manila was different. Despite it being one of Ali's greatest triumphs, there was no joy on his face. He winced as Frazier's blows landed, seemingly reexperiencing the pain. When the tape ended, he said: 'Frazier quit just before I did. I didn't think I could fight anymore.'
Fifty years on, the fight remains legendary. Sports writer Jerry Izenberg noted: 'What it came down to wasn't the heavyweight championship of the world. Ali and Frazier were fighting for something more important than that. They were fighting for the championship of each other. Both fighters won that night, and both fighters lost.'
Neither man fully recovered from the physical damage. Ali in 1975 was the most famous person in the world, his views on race and Vietnam largely accepted. His 1974 knockout of Foreman had brought global joy. But Frazier didn't share those feelings. In 1971, he had defeated Ali in the 'Fight of the Century' to become undisputed champion, but the victory came at a heavy price.
The first fight was seen as a metaphor for racial and political struggle, with Frazier cast as the anti-Ali. But Frazier didn't want to be a symbol. He was a sharecropper's son who just wanted to fight. Ali demeaned him as an 'Uncle Tom', a label that stuck. Writer Dave Wolf said: 'The damage he did to Joe was never undone.'
Frazier wanted to be a hero, but after beating Ali, he received condescending approval from white America and was never a hero to his own people. The Thrilla in Manila was the brutal climax of their rivalry, a fight that defined both men forever.
