How Muhammad Ali Won the ‘Rumble in the Jungle’

Then, in the second round, the bee unexpectedly threw away the tactics of his entire career. Off his toes and seemingly off his rocker, Ali stood along the ropes, exactly where Foreman wants an opponent to be. Indeed, with his customary authority, Foreman started pounding punches against Ali’s midsection. Some of Foreman’s blows glanced off Ali’s arms and gloves, and none hit Ali’s face, but it seemed to be only a matter of time before Ali’s belly would turn to pulp.

Astonishingly, Ali seemed hardly concerned. As the fiercest puncher since Sonny Liston whaled away, Ali shouted taunts at Foreman. “You can’t hurt me!” Ali yelled. “You punch like a sissy.” Soon it became clear that Ali had constructed a trap. All summer and fall he had been developing granite abdominal muscles with a grueling regimen of calisthenics, spending an hour every morning hardening his gut by doing sit-ups with his legs held up at a 45 degree angle or while his limbs were pumping back and forth in a bicycle-pedaling motion. Now he was simply letting Foreman punch himself out against that iron flesh. “I wanted to make him shoot his best shots,” said Ali later.

That is precisely what Foreman did. In the sultry tropical night (the temperature was 86° and the humidity about 90%), Foreman’s punches soon lost power. Arm weary, he began to swing wildly, frequently missing entirely, spinning around on his own momentum like a worn-out drunk. Ali took advantage of Foreman’s slack defense by springing off the ropes time after time to jolt the bone-tired champ with lightning combinations to the head.