The Soul Of A Butterfly Read Online Free Page A

himself,
    recently wrote a book called
    It’s Not About the Bike
.
    Well, for me it was all about the bike.
     
    IT WAS THE winter of 1954; I just received my red-and-white Schwinn bike for Christmas. A friend and I rode our bikes over to the Louisville Home Show at Columbia Auditorium. There was an annual Black bazaar going on, and we spent the day picking up free samples of food, popcorn, and candy. When it was time to go home, I discovered my bike was gone.
    I was so upset I went looking for the police to report it. Someone directed me down to the gym run by a local policeman named Joe Martin, who was teaching young boys to box in his spare time. I told Mr. Martin that I was gonna whup whoever stole my bike. I was half crying and probably didn’t look too convincing. I remember Mr. Martin telling me, “Well, you better learn how to fight before you start challenging people that you’re gonna whup.”
    I joined Mr. Martin’s gym and began boxing with a vengeance. All of my spare time was spent on training; I was the first one in the gym, and the last to leave. Boxing kept me out of trouble. I trained six days a week and never drank or smoked cigarettes.
    Joe Martin was the man who started me out in boxing, but regularly I trained with a Black man named Fred Stoner, who taught me how to jab. If I ever found out who took my bike, I was going to be ready. Mr. Martin produced a local television show called
Tomorrow’s Champions
as part of the Columbia Gym’s amateur program. It offered instant local celebrity status to his boxers. When I first started boxing, all I wanted was to someday buy my parents a house and own a nice big car. I figured if I could turn pro and get on Saturday night fights, I could make four thousand dollars just for one night. Then my dreams started to grow. When I was in school, sometimes I would pretend that they were announcing my name over the loudspeaker system, saying “Cassius Clay, heavyweight champion of the world.” Other times I would draw a picture of a jacket on a piece of paper, and on the back of the jacket I would write, “Cassius Clay, Golden Gloves Winner,” or “Cassius Clay, World Heavyweight Champ.”
    From the beginning, I was determined to be the best boxer. I knew that meant I was going to have to stay focused and work hard. I can remember one occasion when I was in the gymnasium sparring with another kid, named Willy Moran. Willy was a hard hitter who later turned pro. Anyway, I had just finished talking to Mr. Martin about wanting to get a scooter. When I got into the ring, I was still thinking about what color it was going to be. I thought red would be nice. Then, all of a sudden, Boom! I blacked out. I had been knocked out cold. When I woke up, the first thing I said was, “Which way was the scooter going when it hit me?”
    That’s when I learned the importance of remaining focused. Soon thereafter, I had my first amateur fight. I was twelve years old and weighed about ninety pounds. I can remember walking down the aisle with my father, headed for the ring. When I looked up to see who I was fighting, my eyes widened. It was another beginner named Ronnie O’Keefe. He was a White boy who was a little bigger and a little older than I was. I was scared to death. I looked up at my dad and said, “Cash, do you see who I’m fighting?”
    Cash looked me in the eye. “Yes, and we’re going to whup him.” Hearing my father say that inspired me. Suddenly I felt good, I had my dad in my corner and I won my first fight.
    * * *
    At that early age I learned another important lesson. Although I was the one in the ring, I won as part of a team. I continued fighting and training hard. By the time I was eighteen, I had already fought 108 amateur bouts. I won six Kentucky Golden Gloves Championships, two National Golden Gloves tournaments, and two National AAU titles.
    It all started coming together, when I realized that boxing was how I was going to succeed in life. People