Ali vs Foreman--my Yankee opinion

   
   "Ali vs Foreman--my Yankee opinion"
   
   All Saints' Eve--a day before, in the rhyme of the year 1974.  Make it like Hemingway, Mark.  No college--a 4 year vacation.  Not machine gun sentences, but a short, 3 shot burst.  1, 2, and 3.  I saw a fish.  It was a big fish.  I caught the fish.  I ate the fish.  The fish gave me spirit.  
   Foreman was bigger, uglier, meaner, nastier, had a German Shepherd on a chain, was stronger, saying:  "I gonna kill that pretty boy."  More or less.
   Africa, of that region, accepted the monstrous Foreman's dog, though it was unclean.  The children accepted Ali, and he looked like an adolescent in a state of glee.  Ali, a great philosopher, kinda/sorta preached:  "Repeat the mantra, and it shall happen."
   The BELL Rings!!!  Foreman--strong as an ox, slamming the svelte Ali--over, and over, and over, and over--Ali's hands up; plus, a dance here.  And a dance there.  No offense.  Hands up.  A mere dance.  Round after round.  Big, big, big, angry and mean Foreman beats the shit out of little Ali--so it appears in our Kool-Aid-drinking souls.
   Next, after many rounds.  Ali exits his corner.  Foreman, so big and strong--is simply exhausted.
   Then, Ali has his opening.  A jab here.  A jab there.  A dance.  A dodge.  A dance.  Another dodge. 
   Foreman can't hit shit.  Has made himself a sluggard due to anger and hate.  
   Ali.  Another jab.  A right.  Next, picks the bigger monster apart.  Picks him to crumbling pieces. 
   Ali has victory.  Nobody still believes.
   And Foreman becomes humbled, selling grills, and morphing into a magnanimous man of virtue and love.  A great man.  Ali prayed for his enemy with punches--in my humble opinion.
   Ali, a resting pulse of 50.  Parkinson's for over an easy decade.  Surviving.  The mantra.  Say it.  It comes true.  Believe it.  It comes true.  
   Be at rest CHAMP.  You are not arrogant.  You taught.  You gave.  You endured.  You were and totally are--beautiful.