It was February 25, 1964. Earlier that night, the world had shifted. Cassius Clay, a twenty-two-year-old whirlwind of rhythm and ego, had just danced around Sonny Liston until the "Big Ugly Bear" quit on his stool. But there was no champagne in the room. There was only vanilla ice cream and the four men who held the future of Black America in their hands.
Cassius stood up, his frame silhouetted against the Miami moon. He looked at Malcolm and nodded. He knew that the next time he stepped into the light, he wouldn't be Cassius Clay anymore. He would be Muhammad Ali. 5. One Night In Miami
Cassius sat on the edge of the bed, his hands still buzzed from the leather of the gloves. "I shook up the world," he whispered, though tonight, his usual roar was a low vibration. It was February 25, 1964
"It's just a fight, Malcolm," Sam said, though he didn't believe it. "Let the boy enjoy his crown." But there was no champagne in the room