Ali And His Entourage

First thing I'd do if I had some money, I'd go to the Bahamas and see my baby. King Solomon Brown's his name. Made him at Ali's last fight, with a woman I met down there. He was born on the seventh day of the seventh month. There's seven archangels and seven colors in the rainbow, you know.

I brought him to America and lived with him until he was one. Then he went back to the Bahamas with his mother. Didn't see him for a year and a half, then I went back. Wanted to see if he'd remember me. I said, "A-B-C-D-E-F-G—dock-dock" (he makes a sound with his tongue and the roof of his mouth)—that's what I always used to teach him—and he remembered! He ran and leaped into my arms—I mean, jumped!—and we hugged, and it wasn't like I was huggin' somebody else, we was one body, we was one! (He wraps his arms around himself and closes his eyes.) I'll never forget that hug. Couldn't bring him back to America, I had no house for him to come back to. Stayed eight weeks and went broke. Came back and after that I'd see kids on the street and think of my kid and I'd start to cry.... Why don't you get up and leave now? Put two eggs in your shoes and beat it. You stirrin' up things, you know. (The visitor starts to stand.)

I'll make some money. I'll get a home he can come to, and put him in school. Got two grandchildren, too, and I wanna be near 'em. They're by my son, Drew, he's a jet pilot in the Persian Gulf. And I have another son, Ronnie, here in Los Angeles. One son black, one son white, born a day apart. And then Solomon. I'm a boymaker. Don't see my kids like I want to. Can't go back to my babies till I got somethin' to give 'em. Right now, I'm broke. I said, broke, not poor, there's a difference. (He glances across the room and speaks softly.) I know one thing. You get used to good food and a clean bed, hard to get used to somethin' else. Why don't you leave now? Please?

(He rises and goes to the door, shredding a piece of bread and tossing it outside to the pigeons.) People don't know it, but feedin' the birds is like paintin' a picture.... Some people think Muhammad's broke, too. He ain't broke. He's brokenhearted. He hasn't found himself in what he really want to do. Maybe he just be in the freezer for a few years. Maybe he's going through this so he has time to think. Last time I was with him, his 15-year-old son said to him, "Daddy, Bundini is your only friend, the only one that doesn't give up on you." Muhammad looked at me, and we started cryin'. But this is not the end for Ali. Somethin' good gonna happen for him. Maybe not while he's still alive on this earth, but Ali gonna live for a long time, if you know what I mean. Like my kids, even when I'm gone, I'm gonna be livin' in 'em...if I can be around 'em enough to put my spirit into 'em. Go fishin' with 'em. There you go again, you got me talkin' about it. Didn't I ask you to leave? (The visitor reaches for his shoulder bag.)

It ain't nothin' for me to get up and walk down the street and have 15 people yell, "Hey, Bundini, where's the champ?" That one reason I stay in my room. (He pauses and looks at the visitor.) You think I'm alone, don't you? Soon as you leave, God's gonna sit in that chair. I call him Shorty. Ha-ha, you like that, don't you? By callin' him that, means I ain't got no prejudice about religions. I was born on a doorstep with a note 'cross my chest. It read, "Do the best you can for him, world." I had to suck the first nipple come along. I didn't run away from home—I been runnin' to home. I'm runnin' to God. And the nearest I can find to God is people. And all around me people are fightin' for money. And I'm tryin' to find out what makes apples and peaches and lemons, what makes the sun shine. What is the act of life? We all just trancin' through? Why can't we care for one another? There's a lady that come out of church the other day and got shot in the head. I want to know what the hell is goin' on. God, take me home if you ain't gonna give me no answer. Take me home now. If you're ready to die, you're ready to live. Best thing you can do is live every day like it's the last day. Kiss your family each day like you're not comin' back. I want to keep my dimples deep as long as I'm here. I want to see people smile like you just did.

(His lips smile, but his eyes are wet and shining.) The smarter you get, the lonelier you get. Why is it? When you learn how to live, it's time to die. That's kind of peculiar. When you learn how to drive, they take away the car. I've finally realized you need to be near your kids, that you need to help 'em live better 'n you did, that you can live on by feedin' your spirit into your babies. But now I ain't got no money and I can't be near 'em. Back when I was with the champ, I could fly to 'em anytime. See, I was in the Navy when I was 13 and the Merchant Marine when I was 15, and they was the happiest days of my life, 'cause I was alone and didn't have no one to worry about. But now I'm alone and it brings me misery.... C'mon now, get on up and leave. Talkin' to you is like talkin' to myself....

See this bald spot on my head? Looks like a footprint, don't it? That come from me walkin on my head. Don't you think I know I'm my own worst enemy? I suffer a lot. If my kids only knew how I hurt. But I can't let 'em know, it might come out in anger. And 'fore I see 'em, I gotta have somethin' to give to 'em. I owe $9,000 'fore I can get my stuff out of storage. (He bites his lip and looks away.) One storage place already done auctioned off all the pictures of Ali an' me, all my trophies and memories from back then. Strangers have 'em all.... (A long silence passes.) Now the other storage place, the one that has all Ali's robes from every fight we ever fought, every pair of trunks we fought in, lot of jockstraps, too, enough stuff to fill a museum—I owe that place $9,000, and I'm talkin' to 'em nice so they won't auction that off, too, but I don't think they'll wait much longer. Sure I know how much that stuffs worth, but I can't sell it. That's not right. I want that stuff to be in my babies' dens some day. That's what I'm gonna give my babies. I can't just sell it.... (His head drops, he looks up from under his brow.) You know somebody'11 pay now?

(He rubs his face and stares at the TV set.) You stirrin' it up again. Go on, now. You know if you just keep sittin' there, I'll keep talkin'. Pretty please? (He gets to his feet.) You can come back and visit me. We friends now. I can't go out, I gotta stay by the phone. I'm waitin' on somethin' real big, and I ain't gonna get caught off-guard. Somethin' big gonna happen, you wait and see....

A few days later, Bundini Brown fell in his motel room and was found paralyzed from the neck down by a cleaning woman. And then he died.

Seven years ago, when the group broke camp at Deer Lake for the final time, everyone contributed money for a plaque that would include all their names. They left the task to Bundini Brown and departed.