A HISTORICAL-MUSICAL-CONVERSATIONAL DRAMA
A BLACK IMMIGRANT PERSPECTIVE
ACT ONE
The setting is a Middle-Class neighborhood in Atlanta, GA. The year is 2021.
(Car horn). Junior, 14 years old, runs out to welcome dad from work.
JUNIOR: Welcome, dad.
DAD: Hello Junior, how was school today?
JUNIOR: Great, dad. It is Black history month, and everyone must write a story and pick a Black hero as the main character. I have heard you and mom talk so much about how Muhammad Ali changed boxing, changed American sports, and changed America. So, I would love to make Muhammad Ali my central figure.
DAD: Clever idea. As you know, I love to watch Basketball Finals recaps. It begins in one hour. The players were in the Bubble for the 2020 games because of the pandemic. LeBron James gets his fourth ring with his third team. You must love the American spirit. Moments like this; moments like Barry Sanders dancing all the way to the end zone—Touchdown! Moments like Michael Jordan—5.2 seconds to go; cliffhanger. He strips the ball. He dribbles one. The clock is ticking. He elevates, hands outstretched. The ball goes in the basket. He gets his sixth ring. These are precious moments we get from time to time from our greats—but Muhammad Ali—he gets the crown. No disputation. We will need a chunk of time to do a story on one of the greatest and most beloved men that ever walked our earth. Can we begin after this recap?
JUNIOR: But it will be my bedtime by then.
DAD: Do not worry about that. I make the rules in this house. I can change them for one day. The story of Muhammad Ali is the story of America, and, in many respects, it is also the story of the 20th Century. So, what you will get will be a story within a story, within a story, within a story, whatever that means. We will be weaving in and out, but in the end, you will connect the dots and have everything you need to do your assignment. We must do a thorough job of it. Where’s mom?
MOM: I can hear the two most adorable men in my life talking about Muhammad Ali. “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. The hands can’t hit what the eyes can’t see”—those were the words of 22-year old Cassius Clay, when he was asked how he thought he was going to defeat Sonny Liston for the Heavyweight crown in 1964. So, if you plan to leave me out of the fun, then you had better start to think again.—You better think, think, think—(Mom does an Aretha Franklin song as young dancers dressed in costumes come filing out to dance to the Orchestra).
CURTAIN
Watch out for Act 2 tomorrow. It will leave you SPEECHLESS!!!
I ‘m all ears and all eyes for the Mohammed Alli story.