Glogin?URI= To save articles or get newsletters, alerts or recommendations – all free. Don't have an account yet? Create an account » Alain Mabanckou: «Au Congo, Ali est venu conforter notre africanité» L’écrivain franco-congolais Alain Mabanckou, installé depuis quatorze ans aux Etats-Unis, où il enseigne la littérature francophone à l’université de Californie-Los Angeles (UCLA), revient sur la disparition de Mohamed Ali et ses liens avec le continent africain. à lire aussi : Nos articles sur la mort de Mohamed Ali Vous vivez aux Etats-Unis depuis de nombreuses années.
Quel est l’impact de la mort de Mohamed Ali ? C’est un séisme, et c’est le seul événement qui a pu reléguer au second plan les propos extrémistes de Donald Trump. Ali apparaît comme le grand chaînon qui facilite une unité nationale, même si celle-ci est à repenser tous les jours : l’Amérique est encore victime de ses propres démons et de ses principes «multiculturalistes», louables mais qui ne font pas l’économie des regroupements identitaires.
Et donc de perpétuels clashs. Quel regard portiez-vous sur Mohamed Ali lorsque vous étiez enfant, au Congo ? Je l’ai découvert en même temps que la télévision, à l’âge de 9 ans. Statement from President Barack Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama on the Passing of Muhammad Ali. Muhammad Ali was The Greatest. Period. If you just asked him, he’d tell you. He’d tell you he was the double greatest; that he’d “handcuffed lightning, thrown thunder into jail.” But what made The Champ the greatest – what truly separated him from everyone else – is that everyone else would tell you pretty much the same thing. Like everyone else on the planet, Michelle and I mourn his passing. But we’re also grateful to God for how fortunate we are to have known him, if just for a while; for how fortunate we all are that The Greatest chose to grace our time.
In my private study, just off the Oval Office, I keep a pair of his gloves on display, just under that iconic photograph of him – the young champ, just 22 years old, roaring like a lion over a fallen Sonny Liston. “I am America,” he once declared. That’s the Ali I came to know as I came of age – not just as skilled a poet on the mic as he was a fighter in the ring, but a man who fought for what was right.
Le livre. UK. Über boxen. De la boxe. Del boxeo. On Boxing (japanese) On Boxing. The Cruelest Sport. And if the body does not do fully as much as the soul? And if the body were not the soul, what is the soul? —Walt Whitman, "I Sing the Body Electric" A boxer's victory is gained in blood. —Greek inscriptionProfessional boxing is the only major American sport whose primary, and often murderous, energies are not coyly deflected by such artifacts as balls and pucks. Boxing is a stylized mimicry of a fight to the death, yet its mimesis is an uncertain convention, for boxers do sometimes die in the ring, or as a consequence of a bout; their lives are sometimes, perhaps always, shortened by the stress and punishment of their careers (in training camps no less than in official fights).
This is because boxing's mimesis is not that of a mere game, but a powerful analogue of human struggle in the rawest of life-and-death terms. A romance of (expendable) maleness—in which The Fight is honored, and even great champions come, and go. [Ali] discovered something which was both very good and very bad. Mike Tyson: 1986. By Joyce Carol Oates Originally published as "Kid Dynamite: Mike Tyson is the most exciting heavyweight fighter since Muhammad Ali" in Life, March, 1987. Reprinted in (Woman) Writer and On Boxing (expanded editions). 22 November 1986. When twenty-year-old Mike Tyson enters the packed arena of the Las Vegas Hilton Convention Center, it is through a deafening wall of noise.
A neutral observer would wonder: Is this young man already a champion? —a great champion? Of the nearly nine thousand people jammed into the arena—in seats as costly as $1,000 at ringside virtually everyone has come in expectation of seeing not merely a heavyweight title fight that promises to be unusually dramatic but boxing history itself. Mike Tyson, a boy warrior, has become legendary, in a sense, before there is a legend to define him. Mike Tyson—"Kid Dynamite" as he has lately been billed—exudes an air of tension, control, fierce concentration. The post-Ali era has finally ended. "I'm happy when I'm fighting. Muhammad Ali: "The Greatest" I was determined to be one nigger that the white man didn't get. —Muhammad Ali, 1970 Boxing was nothing.
It wasn't important at all. Boxing was just a means to introduce me to the world. —Muhammad Ali, 1983 In the twentieth century, and perhaps most spectacularly in the 1970s, sports has emerged as our dominant American religion. Through the excited scrutiny of the media, our most celebrated athletes acquire mythopoetic status; they are both "larger than life" and often incapacitated for life in the ordinary, private sense. Though he came of age as an extraordinary young boxer in the 1960s, and made his mark as a radical political presence during that decade, it was in the 1970s that Ali achieved greatness. Viewed from the perspective of the new century, the 1970s was a transitional period in which, in a sense, a New Era of sports was born. Among boxing historians and fans it will long be debated whether All, or Joe Louis, was the greatest heavyweight boxer in history. 1960-1967.
On Boxing 2. Browse Inside On Boxing. The Fighter’s Cruel Art. The Fighter might more accurately have been titled The Fighter and His Family: it’s a boisterous, brilliantly orchestrated ensemble piece at the paradoxically near-still center of which is an Irish-American boxer (Mark Wahlberg), whose once-promising career, like his grim hometown, Lowell, Massachusetts, is on what appears to be an inevitable downward spiral. Just nominated for seven Academy Awards—including best picture and Christian Bale as supporting actor, the current favorite in that category—the film is based on the life and career of former junior welterweight champion Micky Ward, most famous for his three brutally hard-fought bouts with Arturo Gatti in 2002–2003. It is also a group portrait of working-class Irish-Americans in a blighted, postindustrial landscape: the brawling, clannish, emotionally combustible Ward-Eklund family for whom Micky is the great hope and from whom, if he wants to survive, let alone prevail as a boxer of ambition, he must separate himself.
Boxing.