Muhammad Ali and Me

I never expected to have anything in common with Muhammad Ali. After all, he was a three-time world heavyweight champion and Olympic gold medal winner, and I required three friends to turn me over to complete a forward roll in gym class.

In 1998, however, at the age of 44, I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease, as Ali had been 14 years earlier. Overnight our lives became inescapably entwined. Over time, Ali became one of my heroes, his exceptional courage, nobility, and strength touching a meaningful chord in large numbers of people, myself included.

I shared one of his greatest moments while standing in a mock stadium in the Muhammad Ali Museum in Louisville, Kentucky. Projected before me was a life-size Ali, his hand shaking as he raised a golden torch and lit the Olympic flame at the 1996 games in Atlanta. Those of us who shuffle in his shoes know that standing there, with the attention of the world focused on him, took more courage than getting in the ring with the toughest opponent, sending a clear message that those with disabilities are as deserving of respect and dignity as the “temporarily healthy.”

Listening to the thunderous, standing ovation Ali received, I believed for a moment that the world beyond the PD community understood this as well, and I wept.

Now 66, frail, and barely able to speak, Ali remains active, his example an inspiration for all PWP. Although some fans are uncomfortable seeing Ali as a shadow of his former self, he refuses to hide and wait for death to take him.

Instead, he continues to travel the world promoting tolerance and understanding, feeding the hungry, and helping children in need. Parkinson’s is no match for this man who has the heart of a champion beating inside his weakened body.

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  Sheryl & Tony at the Muhammad Ali Museum in Louisville 

“Championship springs from a glowing spark deep within – a desire, a dream, a vision,” Ali says. “Every single day effort pushes towards excellence, over obstacles, and through setbacks. Others can help you, but the achievement is your own.”

The humanitarian cause Ali adopted after retiring from professional boxing in 1981 have earned him everything from Amnesty International’s “Lifetime Achievement Award,” to a citation as “United Nations Messenger of Peace” to the Presidential Medal of Freedom, our nation’s highest civilian award for distinguished Americans.

Ali has come a long way from my memories of him in the 1960’s – the arrogant, self-proclaimed “Greatest,” whocould “float like a butterfly, sting like a bee;” the convert to the Nation of Islam; and the Vietnam War era draft resister stripped of his boxing title and banned from the sport for four years until the U.S. Supreme Court reversed his earlier conviction.

“Those who think the same at 50 as they did at 20 have wasted 30 years of their life,” Ali says.

Like Ali, each of us must decide whether to allow Parkinson’s to limit and define us, or to set us free to do great things we never dreamed we’d do.