He began throwing punches again, still sitting down. "You stick and move, stick and move," he said again. "He's moving in, ain't reaching me because he's too small to reach mc. I'm looking for the opening, looking and picking and then I see it."
His eyes widened and he began to punch harder, banging his right elbow against the wall of the small room as he drew his arm back, the familiar "unnnh-unnnnh!" marking each punch.
"Now I'm sprinting, but I'm sprinting in the ring," he said, still banging away, his elbow thudding off the wall. "Now I got him in trouble and I'm chopping him with the right hand, and he don't know how to run, where to go."
He slammed the right hand twice in succession and stopped punching and leaned back, a film of sweat on his face. "He ain't going to withstand that," he said. "Ain't no heavyweight in the history of the world could withstand that."
"Then this fight won't go 15 rounds," someone said, and Ali shook his head.
"Ain't no way it gonna go all the way," he said. "One of us is gonna get knocked out."
One of us? That's what he said. Of course, it could have been just one more put-on.