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Real vs. Reel Today's stars compete with mystique of past greatsPosted: Thursday January 10, 2002 12:27 PM
Probably no athlete has seen his image grow and embellish so in retirement as Muhammad Ali. And he doesn't do anything, either, except be Muhammad Ali and receive awards for being Muhammad Ali. Now, with the new movie Ali, we have reached a first in sports when, indisputably, there is more general interest in a retired athlete than in anyone actually competing in his sport. Yes, boxing retains a hardcore audience, but essentially, outside of that base, far more people know and care about Muhammad Ali than all of the boxers who are still incidentally boxing. In our general consciousness, Ali is still accepted as the heavyweight champion instead of . . . whatshisname. As Chester A. Riley used to say: "What a revoltin' development that is." Well, maybe this is a step up for that sad sport. For a time, a couple of decades ago, there was more interest in a fictional fighter, Rocky Balboa, than in the real sport. At least Ali really did exist in the ring. We had something of a similar situation in basketball a couple of years ago just after Michael Jordan retired, but as popular as the esteemed Mr. Jordan was -- and is, now that he's back in the saddle again -- he only momentarily overwhelmed his whole sport. As soon as the new season began, Jordan softly moved into the nostalgia niche. But Ali? One could even posit that he hurts boxing, that he remains such a romantic figure that, by comparison, all the current boxers seem so terribly dull and commonplace. We often glorify the past, but never before have we had a situation where the past intrudes so much that it competes with the present. Of course, as much as any institution, all sports feed off the past. Now that we have so many performances on film, that, effectively, keeps old heroes in the forefront of our memories in perpetuity. While videotape may take a little fun out of nostalgia by making the past so terribly clear and literal, it also makes the good old days a live part of our ongoing days. Is that good? I don't know. Sleeping dogs will never again lie in games. No sport, of course, is so involved with its history as baseball. The annual elections for the Hall of Fame were announced Tuesday, and fans will fuss over these sculptured credentials from yesterday with as much passion as they expended in November, arguing whether Mariano Rivera should have thrown that ball to second base. It seems to me, in fact, that interest in the Baseball Hall of Fame is greater than that attached to all the other sports' Halls of Fame put together. Whenever I give a speech, the one question that invariably comes up more than any other is: Should Pete Rose be in the Hall of Fame? As great a player as Pete Rose was -- one could say, in fact, quite ingenuously, that he was a Hall of Fame player -- he remains far more famous for not being in the Hall of Fame than for all the things he actually accomplished. And as the ghost of Muhammad Ali yet rules boxing, so does the specter of Pete Rose, haunting Cooperstown, loom above all who actually go into the shrine. Most athletes are through that famous phase of their lives by the time they are 40, when they graciously fade away into the mists of age. But now with videotape and the nostalgia industry, a select few of them remain with us as classics, oldies-but-goodies, keepsakes. And of course, we're delighted to help them remain fresh and vigorous, in their prime, for as long as we can keep them young, a bit of us can stay that way too. Sports Illustrated senior contributing writer Frank Deford is a regular contributor to CNNSI.com and appears each Wednesday on National Public Radio's Morning Edition. His new novel, The Other Adonis (Sourcebooks Landmark), is available now at bookstores everywhere. The opinions expressed here are solely those of the writer. |
