In a week where the term "legend" came under intense scrutiny because of Joe Paterno's dismissal, the sports world saw a true one die last week. Joe Frazier died at the age of 67 last Monday after a short bout with liver cancer.
There's no question whether or not Frazier is a legend. The real question is what exactly the legend is that he leaves behind.
Of course, many contemporary sports fans would say Frazier is the man who lost to the legendary Muhammad Ali in the celebrated "Thrilla in Manila." The fight is embedded in the annals of sports history.
Others remember him for the infamous call: "Down goes Frazier. Down goes Frazier." But many have no idea of the origin of the phrase. It refers to when Frazier was knocked down a whopping six times as he lost the world heavyweight title to George Foreman.
I believe it should never be forgotten that Smokin' Joe was truly the definition of an athlete in its rawest form. He lacked the showmanship of Ali and the fearsomeness of Foreman and Mike Tyson. But Frazier, who was a blue-collar man from Philadelphia at heart, was still a top-of-the-line boxer.
Frazier had it all. He had those broad shoulders to ruthlessly knock out the opponents who had the misfortune of facing him. He also had that relentless duck-and-weave that allowed him to land his devastating left hook, which became his trademark.
Those abilities, plus his strong chin, led him to 29 wins with 24 knockouts.
His most important win was his 27th, when he beat the legendary Ali in a 15-round unanimous decision. Frazier solidified his place in boxing lore when he landed that dominating left hook in the 15th-round to down "The Greatest" and clinch the win. The win transformed the Philly brute to a true champion.
Frazier further cemented his name in boxing lore when he faced Foreman in his 30th match to defend his world championship. Foreman, with his long and powerful swings, downed Smokin' Joe six times. In the final knockdown, Foreman's uppercut literally knocked Frazier off of his feet to floor him in the second round.
Frazier was still willing to get up, but the referee stopped the fight. It was an inspirational moment for a few, while for others, the cartoonish nature of Frazier's defeat would serve as his stigma.
I believe this is where his downfall began – a descent that would reach its climax in the "Thrilla in Manila."
Ali came out on top, but even he knew that he was fortunate to make it out of this match standing. Frazier had just put him through 14 rounds, or what Ali said "was the closest I've ever felt to death."
But for the rest of us, it was one of the greatest sporting events we may ever see. For me, those two men surpassed the level of human beings – these were gods.
This was legend.
Unfortunately, Frazier was cursed with being the loser of sporting history's biggest event. There was no running away from it; Frazier's name would be forever tied to the spectacle in the Philippines.
Frazier probably attempted to deny that fact, since he maintained his animosity towards Ali for 34 years. Try as he might, the two men would be forever linked to each other – Ali the champion, and Frazier the loser.
For many, the Frazier who lost that fateful day is engraved into our memory.
Others, like myself, remember Smokin' Joe – the man who so few can parallel in skill and heart.
Rest in Peace, Joe Frazier.
Email: brian.josephs@ubspectrum.com
