Meeting Rahman Ali -and remembering a Rascal

Sometimes life surprises you with a moment you’ll never forget.

In June 20220, at the Muhammad Ali Ceter in Louisville Kentucky, I met Rahaman Ali, younger brother of the Greatest Muhammad Ali. What I expected to be a quiet visit to tick a bucket list item turned into an encounter that reminded me of my boxing coach Australian Olympian (1960) Des Duguid and the lost spirit of a close friend.

With Rahaman Ali’s recent passing I wanted to share this story- part tribute ,part personal reflection- about a warm and gracious man who carried the same spark and dignity that defined the Ali Family. It is also about the way boxing connects people across time ,countries and cultures.

Growing up in Melbourne in the 1960s, most of my mates dreamed of becoming Aussie Rules football stars, cricket immortals like Sir Donald Bradman, Davis Cup tennis champions, or the next Olympic swimming hero like Dawn Fraser.

For me, my dreams always involved boxing. My heroes were local Melbourne boys and world champions Lionel Rose and Johnny Famechon, and far away, in that distant land called the USA ,the GOAT himself — Cassius Clay, later Muhammad Ali.

Fast forward to adulthood, and my career in corporate fitness took me from Australia to a permanent home in Washington, D.C. One item on my bucket list was to visit the Muhammad Ali Center in Louisville, Kentucky.

I’d come close to meeting Ali once before, at a conference in Charlottesville, Virginia. He was in the hotel lobby, but his Parkinson’s was severe by then. He shook uncontrollably, supported byf amily, and I knew that approaching him would be intrusive. It was bittersweet — so near to meeting my hero, but the timing wasn’t right.

In 2022, I finally made the pilgrimage to Louisville. Stepping into the Ali Center, I noticed a tall,older African American gentleman shaking hands with visitors. I thought he might be a retired basketball player, or even ex-heavyweight champion Evander Holyfield. Not wanting to intrue,I kept to the side away from him and his crowd of admirers

Then I heard something.

“Sir, sir! Come here, please.”

I looked around. “Who, me?” I replied.

“Yes, you, sir — please come over,” he said, smiling warmly.

As I approached, he asked, “Are you Irish?”

“Well, I’m actually Australian, but with Irish grandparents,” I replied.

He then reached over, tousled my hair, and said, “You remind me so much of my grand father who was part Irish ,with your hair, and the way you move”

It was a touching moment. “That’s wonderful — it’s great meeting you,” I replied.“Great to meet you too,” he said. “I’m Muhammad’s brother.”

The penny dropped, and so did my jaw. “Oh wow, Rahman?” I stammered, mispronouncing hsi name in my excitement. I asked for a photo, unaware there was already a queue. “No, don’t go — let’s talk,” he said, as his beautiful grandchildren peppered me with questions about Australia. .Rahman told me his brother Muhammad had loved Australia. I asked if he’d ever been. “No,” he said, “but I wish I did.”

I then pulled out a photo on my phone of my boxing coach, Des Duguid, a fellow 1960 Olympian representing Australia, with his brother Muhammad taken a few years ago when he visited my hometown of Melbourne.

Des Duguid (left) with Muhammad Ali years later in Melbourne Australia

Rahman chuckled. “Your coach looks like a rascal. No wonder he and my brother got on.”

Des was indeed a rascal, in the best sense. Like Ali, he had a big personality, a sharpwit, and a deep love for people from all walks of life. Des Duguid had a profound impact on my life and is the reason I’ve spent over 30 years teaching the fitness aspects of boxing — and proudly, in recent years, to the Parkinson’s communit y as he too likehis fried Muhamamd Ali suffered from Parkinsons in his final years.

Two things stood out when I reflected on meeting Rahman. Like many older boxers I’ve met, he had very astute observations about human movement and body language. His comments on my Irish background, my hair, and the way I moved — all in such a short time — spoke to that.

But the most profound part of the meeting wasn’t just the surprise encounter. As we talked, Ireally felt like I was speaking to Des again. Rahman had the same gentle manner, the same twinkle of mischief in his eyes, the same basic human decency.

Back in D.C., when I told friends about the meeting, they said it was “meant to be Karma, part of life’s mysterious journey.

” Yes maybe that’s true, but I think it says more about Rahman himself. He was more than Muhammad Ali’s younger brother. He was a fighter in his own right, a man of faith, strength, and dignity who stood proudly in his own legacy.

Deepest sympathies to Rahman’s family, friends, and all who were touched by his presence.

Rest in peace, Champ — and say Gidday to your big brother from all of us when you step into that big boxing ring in the sky. And while you’re there please give my mate Des Duguid a nudge as well I’m sure he’ll be close by your brothers side reliving their time as 2 loveable rascals in the 1960 Olympic Village.

Rest easy, mate.