THE YAWN FROM SAN JUAN
been excused for fighting a collection of high-school hall monitors. But in Coopman, it appeared promoter Don King had reached too low to find Ali’s next opponent. Coopman’s estimation of his chances only made things worse. “I am beat before I start,” Coopman said through a translator.
championship fight held on the island. This continued Ali’s reputation as a globetrotter, but it was hard to imagine Coopman’s name on the marquee at any American venue anyway. Still, even if Ali-Coopman was destined to be a stinker, CBS picked up the broadcast rights for a million
Roast of Ali the night before the bout. If Coopman knew he was a subject of derision – one columnist described the bout as part of a sophisticated plot “to kill off boxing on home TV once and for all,” while the European Boxing Union threatened to ban the fight because Coopman stood no
His candor was poignant, but bad for selling a championship fight. The initial press conference took place at Mama Leone’s, a mammoth Italian restaurant on New York’s West Side. Before a crowd of wildly effusive Ali supporters, all howling and slapping their knees at his every wisecrack, the champion bragged about earning a million dollars for what stood to be easy work. Coopman was suitably wide-eyed, having been jerked from European obscurity to share Ali’s spotlight. Even when Ali playfully patted him on the head and called him “sweet,” the so-called “Lion of Flanders” only smiled. “He wants the glory of fighting for the title,” Ali said, “even if it means getting whupped.” Coopman kept smiling.
chance – he didn’t show it. He grinned throughout the fight’s buildup, looking like a man who had won tickets to the governor’s ball and was determined to have a good time, even if he had nothing nice to wear. Previously a stonecutter carving out religious figures in his own shop, Coopman was a 29-year-old unranked heavyweight whose record was 24-3 with 15 KOs. Though he had developed a small following, Belgium’s interest in boxing was meager. Coopman’s highest hope was to perhaps fight Joe Bugner someday. The opportunity to fight Ali, as flukish as it may have been, was the sort of happening that could alter a man’s existence.
Ali didn’t write his autobiography, but Coopman couldn’t read it anyway.
whom he’d recently married in a secret Islamic ceremony. Though his Muslim faith allowed a man to have more than one wife, the arrangement was never legally recognized; most of Ali’s private life remained under the radar. Still, one wonders how the American public would’ve reacted to Ali and his growing harem. There were also a handful of women, from camp followers to track star Wilma Rudolph, claiming they’d had children by Ali and were demanding financial support. Ali’s finances were also a problem. He was making more money than any athlete in the world, but it kept disappearing. The “business partners” who came in and out of his circle through a revolving door were not helping. Rather than keep track of his money, Ali decided to just make more of it, which led to a series of endorsement deals, everything from d-CON roach spray to Brut aftershave to a line of Muhammad Ali bedsheets. If the cheesy
commercial spots weren’t enough, Ali also signed a contract with Mego toys to market a doll in his likeness. Fittingly, Mego was the same company that had created figures of Cher and The Fonz. In a way, that’s exactly what Ali had become, a sort of one-named super celebrity: Ali. As Ali’s fame soared, his trainer, Angelo Dundee, noticed troubling signs. Ali was gaining more weight in between fights, and when he sparred, his movements were stiff, not fluid. Also, he was sometimes difficult to understand. In public, his voice was still clear, but in private he’d begun speaking in a whisper. Ali was only 34, but he was an old 34. Yet Dundee did what he could to promote the upcoming fight. He even gave Coopman the benefit of the doubt. “Listen,” Dundee told one syndicated columnist, “no fight is easy. If a guy swings, you got the potential for trouble.” He added that his spies in Europe
“That fight changed my life,” Coopman later told author Stephen Brunt. “It was the defining moment not only of my career, but of my life.” When the fight was proposed, however, Coopman’s manager, Karel de Jager, called several boxing insiders to see if they thought it was a good idea for his fighter to face Ali. They assured him that Ali was a humanitarian and would probably go easy on Coopman. Once Jager felt sure that Coopman would survive, the fight was on. Ali had greater concerns than the quality of his next opponent. He was busy juggling his wife, Khalilah (formerly Belinda), and his steady girlfriend of recent times, Veronica Porche. The champion also had a second wife, 20-year-old Wanda Bolton,
had provided him with a full dossier on Coopman. Despite Dundee’s efforts, the press found little to write about. They had to make do with Coopman, who briefly livened things up when he consulted with a Puerto Rican witch. She’d sprinkled him with magic oil for protection and saw in her crystal ball a Coopman victory. Meanwhile, a fire in the hotel kitchen purportedly filled Ali’s side of the building with smoke, though reports of this incident were probably exaggerated. Anything to fill out column inches was better than nothing. Since the gathering at Mama Leone’s, Ali had been subdued. Why talk trash when your opponent didn’t understand you? As unusual as it seemed, Ali offered nothing
Ali may have been joking, but he was out of shape for real against Coopman.
Later, Ali handed Coopman a copy of his recent autobiography. Coopman skimmed a few pages, though he didn’t know the language. Then again, Ali admitted he hadn’t really written the book and didn’t know what it said. It was a weird moment – a man admitting his personal memoir had been written by someone else while another man who spoke no English pretended to read it. This was a reasonable symbol for the emptiness at the heart of Ali-Coopman. Though details were still being discussed, King had secured San Juan, Puerto Rico, as the bout’s location, making it the first heavyweight
bucks, a price the other main networks were unwilling to match. Not to miss out on the ongoing Ali hoopla, ABC would schedule a Wide World of Sports program that featured Ali and Howard Cosell commenting on footage of past heavyweight champions to run the weekend before the fight. ABC’s message was clear: They’d be better served by Ali and Cosell gabbing than by investing in the Coopman debacle. NBC also cashed in on the Ali mania, offering the Dean Martin Celebrity
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