A Boxing Memory: The Thrilla in Manila

A Boxing Memory: The Thrilla in Manila

“Ali and Frazier weren’t fighting for the heavyweight championship of the world. They were fighting for the heavyweight championship of each other.” Thomas Hauser

In 1975, at the time of their third and final meeting, Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier weren’t quite damaged beyond repair. That would come later. The difficulties both had in later life couldn’t all be put down to the terrible damage they did to each other in the mid-morning simmering heat in that Manila ring, but it most certainly played a major part in the terrible debilitating health problems they suffered in their twilight years. Both should have retired on the spot. Neither did, and the quality of their lives, and indeed, their longevity, were greatly reduced because they refused to heed the obvious warnings.

It was the most savage fight of their incredible trilogy. Both were badly faded fighters, their once fabulous skills diminished by the never-ending wars they had both endured throughout their quite remarkable careers. But despite Ali and Frazier now being reduced to mere mortals, certainly, in comparison to what they once were inside a boxing ring, they still had enough left to deliver one of the greatest fights in boxing history.

As Thomas Hauser said: “Their declining curves crossed at exactly the same spot.”

Their relationship had changed in the last few years. Friendship was always a bit of a stretch, but Frazier helped Ali in his time in exile when he refused to take that one step forward. He gave Ali money when the former heavyweight champion was struggling financially without his boxing income. Frazier also went to the White House to plead with President Nixon for the reinstatement of Ali’s boxing licence. Frazier very much helped keep the name of Ali alive. When the public opinion of the Vietnam War changed and with it, the perception of Ali, the three-and-a-half-years exile ended, the relationship with Frazier changed also. Initially, it was relatively playful, but then it morphed into beyond bitter. Ali used references like Uncle Tom, the Gorilla, calling Frazier stupid, backward, and inferior as a human being. I could go on.

“A white lawyer kept him out of jail. And he’s going to Uncle Tom me,” Frazier said in his autobiography. Intended or not, plenty of what he said about Frazier had racial implications. Ali said it was all part of the show. It wasn’t. It went way beyond promoting a fight.

One scribe said he thought Ali said things and would have forgotten about what he had said a few minutes later, and there was never any malice in whatever Ali said about Frazier. I’m far from convinced about that, but either way, even if Ali forgot, Frazier never did. “I think he should be pushed into the flames,” Frazier said when asked about his thoughts on Ali being selected to light the Olympic torch in 1996. Despite claims of forgiveness just a few years before his death, Frazier likely took much of his hate of Ali to his grave.

But despite the verbal hostilities and animosity, their legacy is greater because they had each other. The award-winning writer David Halberstam said of the rivalry, “that the only way we know of Ali’s greatness is because of Frazier’s equivalent greatness.” 

“Ali always said I would be nothing without him,” Frazier once said. He had a point.

Ali and Frazier shared forty-one rounds together, Frazier was forever bitter about the one round in Manila that got away. Frazier got first blood in 1971, dropping Ali in the 15th round of their so-called Fight of the Century to retain his world heavyweight title against the former champion who was only two fights into his comeback the night he met Frazier in the iconic Madison Square Garden. Frazier was never better than he was that night in New York. Ali lost his unbeaten record at the hands of Frazier but got his revenge in a much lesser fight over 12 rounds three years later. Frazier had previously lost his world title to George Foreman, but when Ali upset the fearsome big-punching Foreman in 1974 in that famous rumble in the jungle, thoughts then turned to his old rival. It was unfinished business. Their rivalry needed a decider. Even if their bodies didn’t.

An early morning start to accommodate American TV when the Manila heat was at its fiercest. Frazier was 31. Ali was 33. Both gave their last great performance in the morning sun.

“The fight was the closest thing to death.” Was how Muhammad Ali described his final fight with his old rival. Ali started with the intent to finish it early. He nearly did. But that early effort nearly cost Ali the fight. Frazier survived the early onslaught, and when Ali started to clown to try and hide his incoming fatigue, Frazier just started to fight even harder. Frazier then started to take over, and as Ali started to fade, victory for the fighter very few gave a chance, looked more than a distinct possibility.

But great champions find something deep within that separates them from the rest. Somehow, in maybe his greatest-ever miracle, Ali, when seemingly on the brink of defeat, came roaring back. Frazier took a sickening beating in the final few rounds. In the 13th and 14th rounds, Frazier took sustained punishment from Ali that was difficult to watch. Even more so now. How he stayed on his feet was beyond normal. Due to an accident in the 60s, Frazier had fought most of his career with only partial sight in his left eye. Only Frazier and his trainer Eddie Futch knew this. By round 12 in Manila, the right eye of Frazier was virtually shut. Even in exhaustion and virtually blind, Frazier refused to go down. Or quit. Futch made the decision for him after the fearful beating he took in that 14th round.

“It’s all over. No one will forget what you did here today,” Futch told Frazier in the corner. Futch never once regretted his decision to pull his fighter out. He had previously seen eight fighters die in the ring. Futch did what he did it out of compassion. And love. Frazier complained out of pride. “Don’t stop it. Don’t stop it. I can still make it.” Even with nothing left to give. Frazier still wanted to give more.

“When a fight as hard as this one gets to the 14th round, you feel like dying. You feel like quitting. You want to throw up.” Ali said post-fight. He knew and understood the hell he had shared with Frazier. Legend has it, Ali said to his trainer Angelo Dundee to cut his gloves off at the end of the 14th round. Dundee denied it. But it added another little twist to the tale and added fuel to the fire for Frazier’s protests at being denied the opportunity to fight those last three minutes. As one scribe would say, did Futch save Frazier’s life? Or cost him the fight? The once close bond between fighter and trainer was forever broken.

“There is a great possibility that I will retire. You might have seen the last of me.” Ali threatened retirement. Sadly, it never came. At least, not until it was too late. Both fought on long past the point of no return with dire consequences to their health.

Joe Frazier hoped for a 4th meeting with Ali, but it never came. George Foreman beat him again in 1976, and he retired. But he had one last fight in the predictable comeback that nearly every fighter needs to have for at least some semblance of peace, he managed a sloppy lacklustre draw with Floyd ‘Jumbo’ Cummings in 1981 and it was the last time we saw Frazier inside a boxing ring. The effects of his time in the ring were plainly visible as time passed on.

Frazier was just 67 when he died of complications from liver cancer in 2011.

Ali said of Frazier: “The world has lost a great champion. I will always remember Joe with respect and admiration. My sympathy goes out to his family and loved ones.”

The story of those final two gut-wrenching fights with Larry Holmes and Trevor Berbick has been well told. Neither fight should have happened. Ali suffered more than he needed to with his health because of his refusal to let it go. Ali fought ten more times after Manila. Every single punch he absorbed took away plenty from the normal life Ali could have had in retirement. The fight with Holmes was just plain old butchery. The one with Berbick was just sad. Boxing has had many nights of shame in its long and often less-than-noble history. Those two fights would be the perfect piece of evidence for any prosecution to abolish boxing.

The final years of Ali’s life were painful to watch. Ravaged by Parkinson’s, unquestionably caused by the damage he received in the ring, Ali was reduced to a mere shadow of the fighter and man of old.

Ali fought his last battle in 2016. He was 74 when all the fight finally left his body.

In victory and defeat, Ali and Frazier proved their greatness in Manila. But at what cost.