The  12 year old boy was upset . Really upset.

His bike had just been stolen, and the young man’s dad was trying to console his son.

A policeman approached, overheard the commotion, and then witnessed the youngster threatening harm if he ever found the thief who took the bike.

The police officer was also a boxing coach.

The 12 year old was Cassius Marcellus Clay Jr.

The 12 year old was Muhammad Ali.

The rest is history, except I had never read about the history until Ali died on Saturday.

I’ll sum it up…. Clay took the advice of the boxing coach and took up boxing.  He was 100-5 as an amateur. Fast Forward to gold medals in the olympics. Fast Forward to the greatest fighter of all time.

I wasn’t allowed to watch boxing when I was little. Mom said it was too violent, but I was obsessed with watching the news from 5 years old on.  That’s when I discovered this Muhammad Ali & Howard Cosell.  It was fascinating to watch.

Ali and Cosell would dance.

The waltz of words was captivating.

My father tells me stories of Muhammad Ali.  He was Cassius Clay to my dad.

My grandad would take my dad and uncle over to the gym in MIami Beach once a week to watch the guys train.  My grandpa was friends with Angelo Dundee.

Dad remembers Cassius Clay.  How cool is that?

But, I admit, I don’t have any lasting memory of Ali.  I thought when he lit the torch at the olympics, that it was really cool. But, that’s about where the knowledge ends.

I think the story of a little boy getting his bike stolen, and having a natural instinct for fighting is pretty cool too.

I have found myself reading so much about Ali over the past 48 hours.  Alot of people didn’t like him.  He was too outspoken for their likes.

I read from Ali’s memoir about how he wanted to be remembered…. I’m going to do as he said….I’m gonna remember how pretty he was.

RIP G.O.A.T.