The Ali Documentary

Finally, this morning, I finished viewing all eight hours of Ken Burns’ Muhammad Ali documentary. Verdict: I found myself wishing for eight hours more. Burns, as he long since has demonstrated, is a master of the form.

I really have no bones to pick; I believe Burns presented and illustrated this most remarkable human being for who he was, warts and all. 

I was curious, though, about a couple of things.

Laila Ali was totally absent other than one mention of her name. As the only Ali offspring who followed him into the ring, I found that omission strange. Laila’s social media accounts offer no explanation. There appears to have been no falling out between the two; in May, with Stephen A. Smith, she talked about how fond memories of her father drive her to excel and make a difference. Her absence from the documentary in no way harms it, but I just wonder. 

I also wonder how and why Burns & Co. hit upon Michael Bentt as their, for lack of a better term, “boxing guy.” Bentt had only 13 pro fights, his only real claim to fame his first-round knockout of Tommy Morrison. Then again, why not? Bentt is well-spoken and certainly did bring a boxer’s perspective to the series. 

There were lots of laughs to be had, primarily from the ebullience and outrageousness of Ali himself. My longest and loudest laugh, though,  emerged from the smirk on Angelo’s Dundee’s face when Ali described the “anchor punch” that felled Sonny Liston in their rematch.

That said, no, I don’t believe Liston took a dive. The punch landed on the temple, a location that can play havoc with equilibrium when a punch lands there.

Not shown was Liston getting to his feet, seemingly recovered,  and referee Jersey Joe Walcott resuming the fight — only to halt it after being told that Sonny had been down for a 10-count before rising.

So, how good was it? So good that I’m saving all four episodes for another look. That good. Thanks and congratulations to Mr. Burns.