I had the strangest sensation this morning listening to a sports report on the radio. Men of a certain age may recognise it; the slightly unnerving realisation that age is catching up with us.
I’d heard the reporter simply say that today marked the 50th anniversary of the first fight between Cassius Clay and Sonny Liston. 50 years! Heck I can remember the impact that fight and the win by Clay had on the world of boxing, like it was yesterday. Liston was regarded as a beast and virtually unbeatable. He’d destroyed the popular Floyd Patterson in two recent title fights. Clay was this lippy kid who’d just come off a fight with Henry Cooper and had been floored by ‘enery’s ‘ammer. He didn’t look like the guy who would become ‘the Greatest’, going on to win 3 world titles and become unquestionably the most widely recognised and respected sportsman of the 20th century. And it began with that fight in the Miami Convention Centre on 25 February 1964.
50 years later and the memories are crystal clear in my mind. Isn’t that cool? And yet I’m struggling to remember what we had for lunch on Saturday. Now that’s what’s really unnerving about reaching middle age.