Sport: Ali in Wonderland

The visitors from America had come to pay a courtesy call on Philippine President Ferdinand Marcos and his stylish wife Imelda. Dutifully diplomatic, they praised Autocrat Marcos for his leadership and vision. The President was flattered, and one of the guests continued to gush. “Looking at the way you chose your wife, I can see you’re not so dumb,” said Muhammad Ali. Joe Frazier flinched, but Marcos quickly counterpunched. “Looking at yours,” he informed the heavyweight champ, “I can see you’re not so far behind.”

If Ali’s reception in Manila was any indication, he may in fact be far ahead. Fully 5,000 Filipinos jammed the airport just after dawn one day last week to welcome him. As the door of the 707 opened, a solitary tenor launched into the opening verse of a ballad commissioned for the occasion. The warrior emerged from the jet, paused, then strutted down the steps to the strains of The Muhammad Ali March.

Ostensibly, Ali had come to defend his title against Frazier in an extravaganza he touts as the “Thrilla in Manila.” In fact, the expedition resembles nothing so much as a royal tour. Ali has become one of the most readily recognized individuals in the world. Since he inaugurated his gaudy Third World road show with a knockout of George Foreman a year ago in Zaïre, he has parleyed with Presidents and sheiks. What’s more, his pitchman’s prattle and irrepressible posturing have never failed to captivate the common fan.

Not Too Shy. In his own words he is “bigger than the Kentucky Derby, the World Series and the Indianapolis 500.” Lest these seem too parochial, he is not too shy to suggest he even possesses the power to part oceans. If he is not omnipotent, Ali is at least inexhaustible. Within hours of his arrival he waltzed through a workout and presided over a press conference. “What is Frazier mad at me for?” he asked. “I have made him the second most famous athlete.”

Not quite. Frazier labors like a thief in the night—alone and almost totally ignored. His arrival ceremony in the Philippines barely lasted a minute. He sticks close to his suite where he peels grapefruit and plays high-stakes blackjack with his sparring partners to pass the time. On his first morning of roadwork, he found the Manila streets clogged with joggers; he was later granted special government permission to start before the national curfew is lifted at 4 a.m. In the afternoon, he retreats to his dressing room, which is decorated in the same red and blue motif that jazzes up his gym in Philadelphia.

Good Target. When Ali flew in, Frazier sent his 15-year-old son Marvis to heckle the champ by singing the latest Frazier recording, First-Round Knockout. Ali couldn’t resist the chance to spar. Summoning Marvis to the microphone, he said, “He’s better looking than his father, and he makes more sense.” Marvis bravely sang on. “Hey, that’s good” said Ali. “He even talks better than his father.”

For Ali’s purposes at this stage, any target is a good one. His verbal hooks and jabs are aimed, above all, to hype the gate. Locally there may be no need. Filipinos are such boxing fanatics that when former World Junior Lightweight Champion Gabriel (“Flash”) Elorde goes shopping with his wife, he brings along his gloves to oblige admirers who want to show their stuff. There probably will be few empty seats at the coliseum in nearby Quezon City when Frazier and Ali square off Oct. 1 (Sept. 30 in the U.S., which is on the other side of the international date line). But even with a capacity crowd of 25,567 (16,000 of whom will pay just $4.50 a seat) and some TV income, the Philippine government will undoubtedly fall far short of recouping its $4 million investment.

The big money will be made elsewhere, and it will be needed. For his 15 rounds—or less—in the ring, Frazier has been guaranteed $2 million. Ali will, of course, do better. His contract with Impresario Don King, the bout’s promoter, calls for more than twice that sum. If the fight sells well at closed-circuit television outlets in the States, both fighters could double their take.

Moslem Ties. Whatever it amounts to, Ali’s purse may eventually prove to be mere mad money. Before he broke camp in Pennsylvania, he was visited by Mandungu Bula Nyati, Foreign Minister of Zaïre. Bula helped promote Ali’s “Rumble in the Jungle” against Foreman. He now wants to establish Ali as the middleman in all business deals between Zaïre and U.S. firms. Ali’s share could reach $100 million a year.

And why stop there? Ali thinks he can capitalize on his ties with Moslem nations to provide them with the same service. The champ’s charitable dreams of a mosque in Louisville, a home for the aged in Chicago and countless other projects would then be well within reach. “God is leading me to deals,” Ali says.

But first he must punch his way past the man he calls “the Gorilla.” Frazier’s manager, Eddie Futch, insists that is easier said than done. “Ali’s not 25 years old any more. He can only go four rounds on his toes, and eventually he’ll have to stand and fight.” Perhaps not. “I’ll be sidestepping and dancing, pacing myself,” says Ali. “When he takes two steps forward, I’ll take three back.” He also plans to unveil a new weapon, “the acupunch.” Not that he thinks he needs it. “Frazier’s so easy to hit,” he says, “he gets mad when you miss.”