I was only seven years old and in first grade at the Salesian Sisters run St. Mazzarelo school at the VMC compound, Victorias City, Negros Occidental when Muhammad Ali stopped the younger and bigger Goerge Foreman in the eighth round of their classic “ Rumble in the Jungle” world title fight in Zaire (now Democratic Republiuc of Congo).
The fight was on a Wednesday and was held at the 20th of May stadium (now Stade Tata Raphael) It was exactly 11 a.m. in the Philippines, and was 4 a.m. in Zaire.
The clash was held early morning in Zaire to accommodate US audience.
More than 60,000 fans still trooped to the stadium to cheer for Ali.
My late adopted father Roberto E. Biantan was a hardcore boxing fan. He was also an admirer of the seemingly indestructible George Foreman. He hated Ali’s big mouth but he loved to see him fight.
With the entire family behind my father including my adopted mother Virginia and my two adopted elder sisters Teresa and Elizabeth. Ali was the demon, the "traydor" (traitor) of the house. We all wished him to be knocked out cold.
We all wanted to watch the match but there was one problem. We did not have any TV. My father was also working and my two sisters were in school. Lucky for me the Salesian sisters dismissed us 30 minutes before the fight. Maybe they were also boxing fans.
So I rushed home carrying with me my bag full of books and notebooks. But then when I almost reached our gate, I remembered that we did not have any TV. I could hear my neighbors along the 4th Street in New Barrio, Victorias Milling Company, screaming and cheering. Some of them for Ali but most of them for Foreman.
I left my bag outside our gate and rushed to my neighbor only to find out that their living room was also full of other neighbors trying to get a glimpse of the fight.
I squeezed in and was just in time to witness Ali hit foreman with a cross on the jaw. Foreman who at 25 was seven years younger than Ali, could not comprehend what hit him. He was leading from the start until that very moment. He fell on the canvas. He tried to get up but the referee counted him out.
Most of us all shouted “booo, mafia, mafia”. I cried. I ask God why the “traydor” won. When I went home, I saw my mother by the gate asking me where I have been. “Did you not know that the ‘traydor’ won the fight, I asked her. She said yes she knew because she was listening to her big antique radio the live coverage.”
“You want to have lunch or not? Hurry up also because your father will be home for lunch soon and for sure he will be in a bad mood after the ‘traydor’ beat his boxer.”
Ali briefly ended Foreman’s boxing career although he managed to stage a grand comeback 20 years after.
After that Foreman fight, Ali still remained active and fought 14 more times including another classic battle with Joe Frasier in Oc. 1, 1975 at the Araneta, Coliseum in Cubao, Quezon City. He retired in 1981 after a unanimous decision loss to Trvor Berbick in Bahamas.
My father failed to see or hear the fight live, but three days after he saw a replay in his brother Felixberto’s house. He was still convinced that the Sicilian Mafia manipulated the result and Foreman did not get up because he was paid. The referee also counted too fast because he was paid.
I hated Ali because I did not know his fights outside the ring. As I grew older, and I knew him as a person, hatred turned into respect. Then respect turned into love. Ali is still the greatest boxer ever and his legacy will be in my memory forever.
(l.biantan@gmail.com)