Joe Frazier, Muhammad Ali made each other great

It was March 8, 1971, the night of "The Fight," matching unbeaten heavyweights Joe Frazier and Muhammad Ali at Madison Square Garden. The emotion of the buildup was a reflection of the cultural divide across America as the Vietnam War was winding down.

Having refused induction to the Army and subsequently had his conviction overturned by the U.S. Supreme Court, Ali symbolized the anti-war cause and personified the "black is beautiful" pride of the civil rights movement. Frazier was thrust into the role of standard-bearer for traditional middle-class America, and his insistence on calling his opponent by his given name of Cassius Clay reinforced that view.

I experienced that fight as a sophomore at the University of Missouri, and it was obvious how politics and sport were inextricably entangled. With no access to the closed-circuit telecast, the students in my all-male dorm gathered in the lounge to listen to the radio broadcast. Just 10 months earlier, finals were called off at Missouri because of protests of the killings at Kent State, and that climate was unchanged as the hawks in the room all lined up in support of Frazier and the doves cheered for Ali.

The tension was riveting right up to the 15th round when Frazier's famous left hook decked Ali for only the third time in his career, eliciting a wild celebration from the pro-Frazier forces and causing Ali's supporters to sag. The two Hall of Fame heavyweights went on to stage the greatest trilogy in boxing history, culminating with the "Thrilla in Manila" in 1975.

Sports fans of all stripes ultimately came to appreciate the skill, determination and valor of both fighters. While Ali was recognized as "The Greatest" for winning the last two Frazier bouts and also regaining the title from George Foreman, there was no denying Frazier's greatness and how it elevated both men.

After their ring careers ended, it was Ali and Frazier who remained stuck in the roles they had played, unable to resolve their differences despite many fitful attempts at reconciliation.

"It hurt Joe very much," said Joe Hand, Sr., who was one of the original partners in Cloverlay, Frazier's management company. "He didn't like the fact his kids had to hear these things about their dad at school. I don't think he ever got over it."

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Promoter Bob Arum added, "Ali tried to , but Frazier never accepted it. He had terrible animosity toward Ali . . . Frazier was a very difficult fight for Ali, and Ali was looking for every edge. One way to get the edge was to get under Frazier's skin, which he certainly did."

When it came to assaulting Frazier with insults to hype their fights, Ali gave no quarter. He compared Frazier to a gorilla, and called him dumb and an "Uncle Tom," remarks that fed the very racial stereotypes African-Americans were trying to overcome. It was deeply personal for Frazier, who especially resented Ali's popularity within the black community.

"Joe would tell me stories about his sharecropper father, which was one step removed from slavery," said Don King, who co-promoted the "Thrilla in Manila" with Arum. "He wanted change, but he was a moderate who was more acceptable to the white community. Ali was more iconoclastic.

"Joe would say to Ali, 'Why are you going to put me down? I'm black like you. You're no better than me.' It became a war of words, and it showed in the courage of Joe Frazier answering all the blows Ali was throwing in kind."

The personal relationship between Frazier and Ali remained tortured, King said, because the smooth spots inevitably were followed by rough patches when one said something and the other responded. But what took place in the "Thrilla in Manila" in King's view, ennobled both fighters forever and resonated beyond the boundaries of sport.

"It was the epitome," King said. "Smokin' Joe brought honor, dignity and pride for his people, the American people."