Tuesday, March 30, 2010

The Greatest Horse of All



1970 is remembered in the history books for all sorts of noteworthy events that are not remembered with any fondness — the My Lai massacre, the aborted space mission of Apollo 13, the Kent State shootings.

But 40 years ago today, a thoroughbred racehorse that is remembered by many as the greatest of all time was born.

He was Secretariat, the first horse to win racing's Triple Crown (the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness, the Belmont Stakes) in a quarter of a century. In fact, his times in the Kentucky Derby and the Belmont set records that still stand today.

I will always remember watching the Belmont in 1973 in anticipation of the first Triple Crown winner in my life. So often in the years since, a horse has entered the Belmont (also known as the "Test of the Champion" because it is the longest and final race of the Triple Crown) with wins in the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness only to go down in defeat in the Belmont.

But Secretariat did not disappoint observers on that Saturday in June. He seized control of the race early and romped to a 31–length victory, covering the 1½–mile distance in 2:24. He left no doubt in anyone's mind that he deserved to be the Triple Crown winner.

His achievement is commemorated by a statue at Belmont Park.

Because of a deal his owner made, Secretariat didn't race past the age of 3 and was retired to stud, but he never produced any offspring that came close to duplicating his accomplishments. Nevertheless, his reputation led to the sale of one of his early progeny for more than $1 million, something that had never happened before.

Secretariat's life ended in October 1989 when he was euthanized.

Monday, March 22, 2010

When Ali Was in His Prime ...



It probably goes without saying that Muhammad Ali was a controversial figure — both inside the ring and out.

He was brash and cocky, unorthodox in his style, earning the derisive nickname "The Louisville Lip" for his prefight poems, some of which predicted the round in which his opponent would fall. But even his critics had to admit that he backed up his boasts. After winning a gold medal at the 1960 Summer Olympics, he compiled a professional record of 56–5, including wins over the most respected fighters of his time. And he became the first man to win the heavyweight championship three times — the first while he was still fighting under his birth name of Cassius Clay — a name he gave up when he converted to Islam.

Ali was barely 22 when he beat Sonny Liston to become heavyweight champion for the first time in February 1964. At the time, he was the youngest heavyweight champion of all time, and he held that designation for more than 20 years — until Mike Tyson won the title in 1986.

After beating Liston, he announced that was a member of the Nation of Islam, which was frequently called the Black Muslims in those days. That caused quite a backlash in America, and it is fair to say that Ali, who had already polarized many boxing fans and journalists, became even more of a lightning rod.

He was in his prime as a fighter, and he went on to successfully defend his title nine times in the next three years, winning all but two by knockout or technical knockout — including a rematch with Liston, who was still widely regarded as the most fearsome fighter on the planet.

Then, about a month after he defeated Zora Folley on this day in 1967, Ali was stripped of his title for refusing to be inducted into the military and fight in the Vietnam War. I've heard — but I can't positively confirm — that he said, "No Viet Cong ever called me a nigger" to justify his opposition to the war. He didn't box again until 1970.

He was a different fighter when he returned to the ring — he was nearly 29 when he fought Jerry Quarry in the first of two warmup fights for the "Fight of the Century" against the champ, Joe Frazier, in March 1971.

He was still talented, but he was past his prime, and he had to depend on his wits more than he did before he was stripped of his title. He lost to Frazier, but he won the rematch before pulling off an amazing upset of George Foreman in the "Rumble in the Jungle" to reclaim the crown in 1974.

After regaining the championship, Ali brought boxing back to the masses. Instead of having his fights carried only on closed–circuit TV — the pay–per–view of his time — Ali defended his title nearly a dozen times after defeating Foreman, and most of those title defenses were carried on network television.

In February 1978, at the age of 36, he lost the title in the ring to 24–year–old Leon Spinks, then won it for a third time with a unanimous 15–round decision over Spinks later that year. It was Ali's last victory.

But on this day in 1967, against Folley, Ali was still a young boxer in his prime.

Friday, March 12, 2010

Death of a Role Model



I often hear folks complain about the absence of quality in the famous people their children wish to emulate.

All too often, unfortunately, the athletes that young people admire are greedy or self–centered, not generous and selfless. They are the athletes with the multimillion–dollar contracts, the big houses and the flashy cars who cheated on their spouses or took steroids to gain an unfair advantage over those who played the game straight.

Herb Brooks, who coached the U.S. hockey team to its miraculous gold medal at the 1980 Winter Olympics, once defined (without realizing it) the characteristic of an athlete that parents should want their children to mimic — "players whose name on the front of the sweater is more important than the one on the back."

Merlin Olsen was such a role model. And he died of mesothelioma yesterday at the age of 69.

Many folks may only know Olsen from his work in television. Like many former athletes, he provided commentary for NFL and college football broadcasts. He was also a star of Little House on the Prairie for many years before starring in his own series, Father Murphy.

All of this came after his 15–year career in pro football, all of it spent with the Los Angeles Rams and much of it spent in the years before most professional sports teams put the player's last name on the back of the jersey.

Olsen also played at a time when defensive units weren't given collective nicknames. But, before Minnesota had the "Purple People Eaters" and Pittsburgh won four Super Bowls with a defense known as the "Steel Curtain," the Rams' front four were known as the "Fearsome Foursome."

A defensive lineman, Olsen was one of the "Fearsome Foursome." And, although that group included such names as Deacon Jones, Lamar Lundy and Rosey Grier, Olsen may have inspired the most fear of all. At 6–5 and 270 pounds, he was a mountain of a man in the years before it became almost commonplace for linemen to exceed 300 pounds — an intimidating force with "superhuman strength," according to Jones, who told the Los Angeles Times in the 1980s that "[a] lot of the plays I made were because he or the others would make the sacrifice."

Olsen modestly asserted that the "Fearsome Foursome" would have been successful in any era. "We could all run," he said. "The other thing we had going for us was a rare chemistry. There was also a very special kind of unselfishness."

He was a special kind of person. It is uncommon these days to find an athlete who graduated from college before moving on to professional football, but Olsen was named one of the nation's top students during his senior year at Utah State, and he earned his master's degree in economics while he played pro football.

Maybe it was due to the values he learned growing up in a Mormon household. Maybe it was a quality that was born in him. But, whatever the source, his many accomplishments made him someone that any parent would want to see his/her child idolize.

He was a winner. Even if he didn't win championships.

Rest in peace, Mr. Olsen.