Taki
Already a subscriber? Log in
Well, Billy got knocked out by Louis because he threw caution to the wind and went for broke when he didn’t have to. He was leading on all three cards. The same thing happened at the return match five years later, after both had served in a thing called world war two. I sat next to Billy Conn once in the back of a car, and asked him about Joe. ‘Best fighter and best gentleman ever,’ was his laconic answer.
The noblesse oblige in the noble art vanished when one who refused to serve, Cassius Clay aka Muhammad Ali, became champion. He stood over a fallen Sonny Liston (who had taken a dive on orders from the Black Muslims) and baited him to stand up. Ali humiliated opponents, tormented and badgered them for publicity purposes, but in doing so established a terrible precedent which has since gone over the top. Just compare a tearful Rocky in 1951, a boastful Ali in, say, 1971, and two black thugs who last month spat, slapped and insulted their white opponents.
The two thugs were British — what else? — one born in Blighty the other in Zimbabwe, whereas the two white fighters were gents with university degrees born in Ukraine and fighting out of Germany. The fact that the two thugs ran and ran and never threw a meaningful punch is immaterial. They both lost and lost big to the Ukrainian Klitschko brothers, who as I said are both sportsmen and scholars of sorts. Despite the slaps, the spitting and the insults the two brothers restrained themselves and acted like the sportsmen they are. So degraded is our culture that one of the thugs was invited on a major television programme back in London to publicise himself further.
The reason martial artists bow non-stop to each other is simple. Despite the violence on the mat, respect for one’s opponent is imperative. I have never disrespected an opponent in close to 50 years of practising karate and judo, and have never been disrespected in return. Mind you, I’ve had some bad fights outside the dojo, two of which took place where people are sent to pay their dues to society — I won the first and tied the second after we both collapsed with fatigue — but both times we shook hands afterwards and let bygones be bygones.
Actually, I’ve walked away from fights more times than I can remember. In one egregious case, the Greek who insulted me was too weak and small to hit. He had a grievance because of a woman. Natch. Another time long ago, the ex-husband of Camilla, Andrew Parker Bowles, said something to me in a nightclub about me being in the Fourth Division. I answered in football parlance about perhaps being in the Third. I am glad I didn’t take it any further but regret not saying that, unlike him, I don’t let my wife have an affair with the Prince of Wales.
Fighting has consequences. The best way to go about it if one must is to hit first and keep hitting until the other one lies prostrate. But in all my years I have only hit first once, in a Paris nightclub, over a girl naturally, and live to regret it still. I became a friend of the victim and apologised to him for close to 50 years, until his death, and I still feel ashamed. Getting hit is not like in the movies. A proper punch if it lands breaks the jaw, knocks out teeth and causes concussion. A judo slam on the pavement can cause death if the head makes first contact. Walking away is the best policy, and brave men do it all the time. Cowardly thugs fight.
Also in Society
Also by Taki
Latest
Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in