When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
Mary Oliver “When Death Comes”
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
Or full of argument.
I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world
There was this one time that I realized I could categorize a lot of people’s life ambitions into whether they were an Ali or a Foreman, two of boxing’s greatest champions. By lots of societal measures, they’re both successful men: celebrities, wealthy, philanthropists. Both have been honored numerous times for their achievements, but Muhammad Ali risked so, so much more over the course of his life. Ali didn’t risk himself once, he did it over, and over and over, and he did so publicly–facing massive ridicule and condemnation along the way. Ali versus Foreman: pretty good outcomes, entirely different legacies.
Foreman versus Ali: say that, and a boxing fan will reply with “the Rumble in the Jungle.” A favored heavyweight champ against a has-been contender in the boxing match of the century on a steamy 1974 morning in Zaire. Ali’s story, even up to this point is the classic hero’s journey (and it kept going!). Let me say at the outset that I’m a fan of both George Foreman and Muhammad Ali even though you might read what I’m about to write here as more condemnatory of Mr. Foreman. It’s the archetype of the fight’s winner, Ali that matters here.
Consider Muhammad Ali: widely known today as “the greatest” a counterculture hero; a gifted athlete who fought a racist American system and went on to reclaim the heavyweight boxing title against stacked odds. He was a braggart—if you remember him, you probably also recall his rhyme laden, almost lyrical trash-talking. That gift for syncopated haranguing though is now seen as prefiguring rap and hip hop. Did you know he was Grammy-nominated twice? He’s known as a talented boxer, but did you know he also fought a Japanese wrestler to a draw late in his career? Forgettable at the time, that fight presaged MMA. Ali was edgy, a boundary pusher. He was willing to face ridicule in spite of conscientiously objecting the draft for the Vietnam war, being banned from the sport during his prime, and winning a right to rejoin boxing from the U.S. court system. Most of us would have given up by then. Ali was the Olympic-gold-medal-winning Cassius Clay who became the Sufi Muslim Muhammad Ali. He defies categorization. Even if you’re not a fan of the “sweet science,” chances are you know him.
George Foreman. Think about him for a moment too. What’s the first image that comes to mind with his name? It’s probably a grill. Now, this is in spite of a back story that is almost as compelling as Ali’s. Big George went on to win back the heavyweight championship at the age of 45! He became a Baptist preacher. Also, he sold the George Foreman Grill.
Think about it. These two men fought each other in Kinshasa, Zaire in October of 1974. By that time they were both already famous. Ali, a 4-1 underdog facing what looked to be an unbeatable, bigger, stronger Foreman in “the jungle.” Ali wins in a stunning knockout with a strategy and no small amount of chutzpah that is still studied. One man goes on to light the Olympic cauldron in Atlanta capping national pride in a nation that 28 years before had vilified him; the other made a fortune selling cooking products.
A friend who happens to be a Catholic Priest will sometimes say to me about someone: “Oh that one… he’s a company man.” At that moment although I do not know the man’s company, I do know some important things about him. That “company man” is not released to his moment. He’s ransomed to sell grills. He’s probably the victim of expectations other than his own. His most significant risk is not meeting a quota set by someone else. He’s known for a product, not as a person. His gains are all external, and his pains are internal, probably unexamined. His net worth? Climbing. His self-worth? I’ll bet he questions it at times.
Which one are you? Are you selling grills or are you changing your name? Are you risking exposure, willing to be called “fraud”? Alternatively, are you terrified of “not hitting the number?” Whose measures are you measuring yourself against? Are you ready to risk being kicked out of the tribe to speak the truth? How many times would you be willing to do that? Consider it: are you just a visitor to this world or are you going to do something particular and real?