Vanish Magic Magazine no. 39

someone in his audience. It was very classy,
and I adopted the practice. So, at the end
of the show, I tossed the deck to Ali and
said, “This is for you Champ. Don’t tell these
guys how the tricks are done.” I always used
that line because the deck was not the
source of the secrets (obviously), although
many laymen may think it is, and they may
spend hours trying to find the answers.
Ali looked up and said, “Ya know, I do
magic too.” He proceeded to show me the
worst silk from thumb tip that I had ever
seen.
I couldn’t resist. I said, “No champ. You box
oranges.” He let out a huge laugh, which
abated the immediate trepidation that I
felt right after delivering the line.
He kept bugging me to explain the effects.
Finally I said, “Champ. You could show me
how to throw a jab, but I would never be
able to throw it like you do. And I could
show you how I did the tricks but you
would never be able to do them like I do.”
I was surprised at how adamant he was in
wanting to know how I did them. Anyway,
I left and returned to my room. I felt great.
I had just had spent an hour with a man
whom I had revered most of my life.
Fast forward.
Two months later I was at the Las Vegas Hilton.
Walking to the lobby to meet my client
for dinner, I noticed a group standing off
to the one side. I couldn’t believe it. It was
Ali. This makes twice in two months that
through weird coincidence he and I were
in the same place. What were the odds?
I mean, even running into him once was
incredible. But now, twice in such a short
time – It’s unbelievable.
I saw another group not far away from the
champ. It was my client. They were awaiting
the arrival of the rest of our dinner
group. Ignoring the Champ, I went right
over to the show team. As we stood there,
a member of my client’s staff mentioned
that Muhammed Ali was standing not too
far away. As I looked over, a fellow from
Ali’s group was walking toward us. When
he arrived he looked at me and asked, “Are
you the magic man?”
“Yes,” I responded.
“And you didn’t say hello to the Champ?”
He asked.
“I wanted to, but he looked busy, and I
didn’t want to interrupt.” I stated.
Following Ali’s man to the group, I began
to think. “He didn’t remember my name.
That’s bad. But he remembered the magic.
That’s good.”
When we reached his group, Ali asked,
“Can you come up and do your magic for
us tonight?
“I would love to Champ. But I have an
important meeting with that group over
there,” pointing to my client. “I probably
won’t be back until 11:00 or so, would that
be too late?”
“I’ll be sleeping by then – getting my
beauty rest.” He said.
“How about we do it tomorrow night?” I
enquired.
Ali said that he would be leaving in the
morning. So my second opportunity to
perform for him was not going to happen.
I wished him good luck and told him,
“Next time for sure.” Although I knew there
would be no next time.
Walking back toward my client, their faces
expressed utter amazement.
“You know him?” Roger, the Director of
Marketing had asked.
“Yes,” I said. Although you the reader, and I,
know my answer was a pretty big stretch.
“What did he want?”
“He wanted to know if I was available to
hang-out tonight.” I replied. Another lie,
but it helped make for good conversation.
“Wait a minute. You’re going to dinner with
us when you could be hanging-out with
Muhammed Ali?” Roger continued.
“Well Roger, let’s just say that I know who
butters my bread.”
I said a moment ago, that I knew there
would be no Next Time. I was right. I never
saw Ali again. But that evening in Atlanta
will remain one of my most special memories.
In this particular case, there is no other
story for another day.
VANISH MAGAZINE
www.VanishMagazine.com
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