Chansky’s Notebook: Rest In Peace, Champ

The day the champ came to Chapel Hill.

Despite his long-time battle with Parkinson’s disease, Muhammad Ali’s death still shocked the world, like he did to Sonny Liston back in 1964 to win the heavyweight title at age 22. The most popular and charismatic boxer, if not athlete, in history used his worldwide platform and went from being one of the FBI’s top public enemies to receiving the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

Ali was the people’s champion, and his fan base grew exponentially with every victory in and out of the ring. He could have made a deal with the federal government when he refused draft induction, which put his boxing career on hold for three years of his prime, but Ali risked all that to prove his points about the Vietnam War, racism and religious discrimination.

During his banishment from boxing, Ali spoke at any podium from college campuses to public venues that would pay him to do so. Had his heavyweight title not been stripped and he kept fighting, Ali may never have become the global figure who despite his weakened condition was still a symbol of strength and a champion of humanity. After resuming his boxing career, he continued speaking to sold-out crowds, enlightening and entertaining them.

Ali came to Chapel Hill in 1975 and thrilled a cheering throng at Carmichael Auditorium, mixing his messages with poetic verse and verbal jabs. After he finished, the attending writers were told he was staying at the old Holiday Inn on 15-501, and we even got his room number. We all jumped in cars to chase down the champ and whatever that would bring.

After knocking on his hotel door, it brought the champ outside into the open air hallway. Dancing and bobbing, he asked a couple of nervous writers to hold up their palms so he could shadow box with them. I asked him to show us the famous Ali Shuffle. He cracked, “Are you Jewish?” What did that have to do with it? He said, “People pay millions to see the Ali Shuffle, and you want to see it for nothin’. I ought to whup you right here.” We all laughed and Ali broke into the shuffle, punched the air a few times and said goodbye.

He kept fighting until he was 39, and his speed and speech were clearly affected by his eventual diagnosis. But the world continued to remember him as the champion – and all he stood for. Rest in Peace, Champ.