Rumbled How Ali ran rings around apartheid, 50 years ago

Fifty years ago, in a corner of white South Africa, Muhammad Ali already seemed a miracle-maker.

- Donald McRae

Deep in our strictly regimented and divided country, Ali danced rings around apartheid. I had first heard about the inspirational boxer from a black man, Cassius, who sold beer from the illegal shebeen he ran across the road from our house.

Whenever my football flew over the garden wall, Cassius chased after it. After a dazzling display of slightly drunken footwork he would return the ball. One day, while showcasing his trickery, he sang a strange song: "Ali, Ali, float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, Ali, Ali, Muhammad Ali."

Cassius flicked rangy left jabs into the winter sunshine as his huge feet danced. He pretended to be outraged when I asked who he was singing about: "You mean the baasie [Afrikaans for little boss] don't know?" When I shook my head he became serious: "Ali is the heavyweight champion of the world."

A thrill surged through me. Cassius told me how he was nicknamed after Ali, who had been born as Cassius Clay. I struggled to understand how one man could have two names. Cassius explained that the master boxer was a black American who dreamed up those happy bee and butterfly lines.