I didn't get to write about Joe Frazier because he died while I was away in New Orleans, but I loved him and have been thinking of him on and off. He wasn't from Philly but he trained there, and people knew him from there and he was considered the hometown guy partly because he had the spirit that people from Philadelphia tend to have: underdog with a chip on his shoulder. He was actually born in South Carolina in the same town as a woman named Ada Capers who babysat my brother and me when we were kids, a town not far from the one where Mo later went to college. So, though we never met, our paths crossed more than once in roundabout sort of ways which is a weird thing to think about because (although I love boxing and even trained in a gym in North Philly 20 years ago) we don't have anything in common.
I read an article about Joe's Dad who was once shot in the left hand and had to have it amputated which is weird because his son had one of the most powerful left hands in the history of fighting. Ask Ali; or better yet, look at him now.
RIP Joe, the hardworking hero.
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