Muhammad Ali vs Ken Norton 3

Muhammad Ali retained the world heavyweight championship at Yankee Stadium on September 28, 1976, but there was little about his third meeting with Ken Norton that settled the argument between them. Ali, 34 years old and making the eighth defence of the title he had regained from George Foreman two years earlier, was given a unanimous decision after 15 rounds of hard, awkward boxing. Norton, who had broken Ali’s jaw in their first fight and had lost a close decision in the second, left the ring convinced that he had been denied the championship.

The bout was staged in the Bronx before a troubled and restless crowd on a night made more difficult by disorder outside the stadium. Ali weighed 221 pounds, Norton a shade under or around 218, depending on the official listing, and both men entered with the history of their previous contests hanging over the ring. Norton’s style had always troubled Ali. His high, cross-armed guard, forward pressure and jabbing from an unusual rhythm denied Ali the clear sight and easy timing he enjoyed against more conventional heavyweights. Ali had promised more than he delivered before the fight, but once the bell sounded, it was apparent again that Norton was no easy mark for him.

Ali began by trying to box at range, flicking the jab and moving enough to keep Norton from setting his feet cleanly. Norton was patient rather than reckless. He did not rush in wildly, but advanced behind his guard, looking for the body and trying to make Ali work every minute. In the early rounds, Ali had the neater single punches, particularly when he could get off first and turn away, but Norton’s pressure was steady, and his blows carried more visible weight. He jabbed to the chest as much as the head, pushed Ali back, and forced him into exchanges that suited the challenger more than the champion.

By the middle rounds, Norton had established much of the physical argument. He found Ali on the ropes, landed to the ribs and arms, and often beat him in the close quarters where Ali’s older legs could no longer rescue him as they once had. Ali still had flashes of command. He could produce a fast combination, draw a roar from the crowd, and make Norton pause for a moment. But those rallies were often brief. Norton’s work was more consistent, and his right hand and body punching left Ali looking tired and uncomfortable. There were no knockdowns, and neither man was in danger of being stopped, but Norton’s strength was plain.

Ali’s difficulty was that Norton did not give him the clear target he wanted. The challenger’s guard absorbed or deflected many of Ali’s jabs, and when Ali tried to push him back, Norton was strong enough to hold his ground. Ali’s best rounds came when he moved, threw in bursts, and made Norton reset. His worst moments came when he stayed too long on the ropes and allowed Norton to score with short, hard punches inside. Norton, for his part, did not always finish rounds with the urgency that might have removed doubt. He did much of the solid work, but Ali, as so often, knew when to catch the eye of judges and crowd.

The later rounds were fought with the title plainly in the balance. Norton continued to press and appeared to many at ringside to be doing the more effective fighting. Ali, however, would not concede the championship quietly. In the ninth and tenth rounds, he used more movement and had enough success to break Norton’s rhythm. In other rounds, Norton’s heavier work seemed to put him ahead again. The contest became less a display of brilliance than a test of judgment: whether the judges preferred Norton’s pressure and body punching, or Ali’s intermittent but cleaner-looking bursts.

The fifteenth round proved decisive on the official cards. Norton, believing he had done enough, did not force the last three minutes with the desperation of a challenger certain he needed them. Ali, sensing the danger, found one final reserve. He moved, jabbed, flurried, and made the closing moments belong to him in appearance if not in the whole substance of the fight. It was not the Ali of the 1960s, but it was still Ali: clever, proud, and aware of exactly when a round might be stolen.

When the decision was announced, referee Arthur Mercante and judges Harold Lederman and Barney Smith had all voted for Ali. Lederman and Smith scored it 8-7 for the champion, while Mercante had Ali ahead by the slightly wider margin generally recorded as 8-6. The verdict was unanimous, but the feeling in the stadium and among many reporters was far from unanimous. Norton shook his head and later said he had won at least nine or ten rounds. Ali, though still champion, had been made to look old and vulnerable.

The argument has lasted because the fight contained two truths. Norton did much of the harder, more persistent work and landed the greater share of meaningful punches. Ali finished strongly enough in key moments, especially the last round, to keep the title under the scoring system used that night. It was not a robbery in the crude sense of a one-sided fight being turned upside down, but a decision that left Norton with a grievance he never shook off. Ali kept the heavyweight championship, yet the third Norton fight added as much to the evidence of his decline as it did to the legend of his survival.

I’ve watched Ali-Norton III more than once, and I believe Ken Norton had every right to feel robbed, even if it was not the sort of robbery where one man wins every round and gets mugged. It was close, awkward, and horrible to score, but Norton did more of the fighting for long stretches.

Ali was still Muhammad Ali, still the biggest name in the sport, still clever enough to nick moments when he needed them. But this was not the Ali who danced rings around Sonny Liston or made Cleveland Williams look like target practice. This was an older champion, fighting in bursts, using reputation, timing and ring sense to survive a man whose style always gave him nightmares.

Norton was built all wrong for Ali. That cross-armed defence, the jab from odd angles, the pressure without rushing in like a fool, it took away Ali’s rhythm. He made Ali work when Ali wanted rest, and when he got close, he put leather on the body and arms. It was not pretty, but it was effective.

The trouble for Norton was that he let Ali have the fifteenth. That was criminal, really. If you’re challenging Muhammad Ali for the heavyweight title, you do not stroll through the last round like the job is already done. Ali knew the business and finished like a champion, flashing his hands and catching the judges’ eyes.

My view? Norton deserved it by a round. Ali kept the crown, but Norton won the argument.