Muhammad Ali, You Are Dead To Me

AliI didn’t know The Champ very well, but I like to think we had a lot in common. It was said that he could float like a butterfly and sting like a bee. I’ve been known to collect butterflies because I’m deathly allergic to bees.
For the younger generations, Ali reigned before our time. Most young people who hear the words “down goes Frazier” wonder why beating up Kelsey Grammer was so impressive. Although seeing Ali in his prime tossing the salad and scrambling the eggs of Beast from X-Men would be an event that would surely pull promoter Don King by the hair, out of retirement.
In ‘74 you came out with a win at Rumble in the Jungle, but at 74 years old you got knocked out by the rumble in the Substantia Nigra segment of your overly pummeled brain. If only the doctors had discovered how to rope-a-dopamine to the neurons that communicate with your body’s extremities.
I supposed there are worse ways to go. You could have been shot by cops who didn’t know your arms weren’t real guns, but you went out fighting one last battle; Parkinson Vs. Ali. Only this time Parkinson’s was all over you and you just couldn’t shake it.
Ali is survived by Eye of the Tiger by Survivor, as well as his collection of George Foreman grills, which are all named George.
Your mamma called you Clay, you called yourself Ali, as you prepare for one last box, we call you dead to me.