Al “Blue” Lewis is a name which does not command too much attention on Muhammad Ali’s CV unless you have an interest in Irish boxing. And for the committed, as well as the curious, who turned up at Croke Park for a blatant mismatch on July 19th, 1972, it is easy to understand why Lewis never made it into the big earners in the sport.
At a time when Ali was attempting to rebuild his career after his boxing licence had been taken away, the rugged man from Detroit had caused panic by smashing one of Ali’s ribs in a sparring session. The painful experience was never forgotten by the world champion.
"I hadn't been in a gym for 2½ years when I employed 'Blue' as a sparring partner for my comeback fight against Jerry Quarry in Atlanta in 1970 and I needed to find out where I was in terms of getting my body back in shape," Ali said.
“I knew ‘Blue’ could throw them in pretty hard. I saw the punch coming but wasn’t in condition to get out of the way quickly enough. Some in my camp were outraged by that, but not me. It showed me just how rusty I had gotten and the lesson I got that day helped to get me on the straight and narrow again.”
Lucrative fight
The payback two years later represented the most lucrative fight of his career. Providing he didn’t get too ambitious on the night, Ali’s handlers were prepared to do business again with the man who took up boxing in prison after being jailed for 10 years for manslaughter.
Few on this side of the Atlantic had heard of Lewis when Butty Sugrue, a colourful Kerryman, announced he was teaming up with Harold Conrad to promote Ali's Dublin appearance. Fewer still believed it would actually happen.
After a series of press conferences in the office of the Irish Boxing Board of Control, a first floor room above Terry Rogers’s betting office, we were gradually convinced about the project.
Croke Park was soon named as the venue and a ring, borrowed from the Brereton in Edenderry, was pitched in front of the old Hogan Stand.
Ali, a master in the art of marketing his talent, arrived in Ireland less than a week before the contest and save for a few well-publicised conferences, he kept a low profile. He had just become a father again at a time when his marriage to Belinda Boyd was reported to be in difficulty. This was believed to be the reason he was not so readily available to the press.
Security measures
He did, however, turn up for a public training session in Croke Park and later repaired to the handball alley to facilitate a large group of photographers. This prompted a local wag to proclaim that the setting would henceforth be known as Muhammad’s alley.
The fight was only marginally more competitive than the sparring sessions, with Lewis content to stick to his status as the hired help and Ali only occasionally throwing clusters of punches before the decisive blow in the 11th round.
Crowd security measures – or the lack of them – had never been a problem for professional boxing in Ireland and the crush on those occupying ringside seats as the fight progressed confirmed that, for all the elaborate planning, nothing much had changed.
Even as Ali sought to return to his dressing room on the Cusack Stand side, a small man climbed on to the apron of the ring to appeal to the crowd to allow Muhammad get to his base.
“Let the dressing room come to Muhammad: we’re not moving,” was the reply of somebody close to the press seats.
