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Ali Memorabilia > Muhammad Ali Autographs
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Muhammad Ali vs George
Foreman - Rumble In The Jungle
Photograph of Muhammad Ali and George Foreman
from the famous Rope a Dope fight entitled The Rumble In
The Jungle. One of the greatest fights in Boxing History
in which Muhammad Ali reclaimed the Heavyweight Title by
Knocking Out George Foreman. 16x20 inches and signed in
Gold sharpie.
Signed in Gold Sharpie and comes with
Online Authentics Certificate.
Nice LARGE clear Signature.
£1,245.00
RUMBLE IN THE JUNGLE - ZAIRE
There’s no better way to appreciate
the Rumble in the Jungle without looking at how so many
antonymous things came together in Zaire on October 27,
1974. And with the aide of time, the world has lent even
more contrasts, making Ali’s bout with George Foreman
his most interesting match, perhaps the most interesting
sporting event since the second Louis-Schmelling fight.
Muhammad Ali has always stood as a study in contrast. As
a boxer, his lightning-quick hands belied the power behind
his punches. His tendency to fight with his fists around
his waist gave the appearance of defenselessness, but he
was always ready to protect his mug. As a man, he’s
the juxtaposition of the seemingly opposite, a strikingly
intelligent but obviously uneducated individual.
Ten years after shaking up the world and beating Sonny
Liston, Ali went to Zaire to try, for the second time, to
regain the championship taken from him by Uncle Sam. And
for the first time since he fought Liston, he entered the
ring a qualified underdog. Even when he fought Joe Frazier
in 1971 for the heavyweight title, it seemed conceivable
at worst and probable at best that he would leave with the
title. He was decisively beaten, a fact highlighted by the
left hook Frazier used to take Ali off his feet in the fifteenth
round. But this go-round, he was fighting Foreman, a young,
menacing machine that beat Frazier two years before as though
Smokin’ Joe had stolen something from the government.
And this was not the Ali of ’64, or even the Ali
of ’68. The Ali of ’64 (Clay?) was louder, more
entertaining, and physically sharper than the Ali of ’74.
The biggest difference between the Ali of ’74 and
’68 was that the Ali of ’74 was allowed to step
foot in the ring. The Ali that went to Zaire was an old
head, more of an uncle than the little brother he was when
he burst upon the scene.
Now, we’ve got the contrast between Ali and Foreman.
Where Ali was warm and engaging, Foreman had little more
to say than a short answer to whatever question was asked.
In the ring, even at 32, Ali could still dance, and his
game was still centered on his quickness. Foreman was a
tall, chiseled portrait of power. Were he blond and Russian,
he could easily have passed for Ivan Drago, the antagonist
of “Rocky IV.”
Ali would have put a hole in Rocky’s chest, but it
seemed impossible that he could beat Foreman. It was overpoweringly
unlikely that any man could withstand Foreman’s onslaught,
that anyone could get close enough to hurt Foreman without
leaving himself dangerously vulnerable to the vicious, sweeping
haymakers George used to erase foes.
It even seemed impossible that the fight itself would take
place. This was Don King’s greatest feat; he managed
to organize a fight in a place few were familiar with using
money he didn’t have. After Foreman was injured in
sparring, the fight was pushed back six weeks, during which
Foreman was stricken with homesickness and tried to go back
to Houston.
But the fight went on, the details of which have been chronicled
extensively (most notably by Norman Mailer and spectacularly
by the documentary “When We Were Kings”). Ali
used the Rope-A-Dope, a strategy whose effectiveness is
outweighed only by its apparent insanity. The Rope-A-Dope
placed the recipe for victory—absorbing Foreman’s
punishment until he punched himself into exhaustion—against
good sense—trying not to get hit.
Ali put Foreman on his face in the eighth round, showing
how often the predictive power of prognostication diverges
from the forces of will, fate, and the unknown.
Now, we stand thirty years removed from the Rumble. Ali
has morphed into the strangest American hero, his deification
being an example what happens when those on the fringes
grow up and become the establishment. After finding Jesus
in the late seventies, Foreman has gone from killer to cuddly.
The brooding man that looked to be carved from granite—which
must be the only way one could achieve Foreman’s physique
circa Rumble without modern weight training—is now
a cuddly, Doughboy-ish pitchman for the greatest kitchen
product since the three-speed blender.
Time often has a way of making life’s characters
different from themselves. Many become shells of their former
selves, but most become redefinitions of who they once were,
evolving into futuristic beings that barely remember who
they were in the past. So while there’s no surprise
that Ali and Foreman are much different than they were thirty
years ago, it becomes interesting because how different
they were than each other in ’74. Their subsequent
changes have brought them to an iconic convergence, as both
have become cultural signposts, and that’s something
no one could have seen coming thirty years ago.
Tragically, two things have remained the same. The serpentine
qualities that allowed King to get the fight off the ground
remain. The hustler he was in Cleveland was the hustler
he was in Kinshasa, and it’s the hustler he is to
this day. But more sobering is that living conditions in
Zaire—now the Democratic Republic of the Congo—are
minimally different than they were before. Crippled by the
rule of Mobutu Sese Seko—who used the Rumble in the
Jungle to show the world a picture of his country that was
glossier than was really the case—the Congo has stayed
mired in poverty and political unrest since its independence.
Had the Congo hosted a fight this month between Bernard
Hopkins and Felix Trinidad, the living conditions of the
Congolese would appear to be no different, a fact that dampens
the nostalgia engendered by retrospectives like this one.
But like most things compelling, the Rumble in the Jungle
struck the imagination because all the major players seemed
to stand apart from each other. Now, the fight’s two
most famous figures stand together in a legendary pantheon
but far away from their early morning showdown in the Motherland.
That they are removed from that time is part of what makes
the fight interesting today, just as their removal from
each other thirty years ago made that moment so interesting
then.
