The Doctor Who Makes Fight Calls

My phone rang a few days later, and it was Promoter Bob Arum, who was then handling the paymaster chores. He was laughing. "Guess what?" he said. "You can't figure boxing people. Herbert saw your bill and said it wasn't enough. He is authorizing me to add some more on."

The case of the sore hands came up only one more time. We were in Zaire for the Foreman fight, and Ali suggested a sort of compromise. What if I only deadened his left hand; after all, he planned to use it more than the right. I proposed an even better plan. His hands were getting better, I said, particularly since he had stopped using the heavy bag in training. The only problem left, I felt, was the main knuckle on his right hand and, if he liked, I could deaden only that one. We quietly considered it, Ali and I alone, and finally he decided to go without any shots at all. What he was really wistful about, it turned out, was that I hadn't let him eat the big apple cobbler.

Since that fight in Africa, I have been paid for my ministrations to Ali, although I have never submitted another bill. I leave it up to Herbert Muhammad. Let's face it, I would have been perfectly glad to pay him for the honor of working with the greatest fighter who ever lived.