Muhammad Ali v Joe Frazier III - Celebrating 50 years of 'The Thriller In Manila'

Boxing News writer Shaun Brown recalls one of the greatest boxing matches to have ever been staged, the iconic trilogy affair between heavyweight behemoths Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier, on what is the fight's 50th anniversary.

On Wednesday, October 1, 1975, at 9pm., in the stifling heat of 50 degrees, Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier walked into the ring at the Araneta Coliseum in Quezon City.

They could not have known that their animosity, their disdain, and their unyielding pride would push them to new levels of brutality and suffering.

What they did know, as they flew home afterwards, was that pieces of themselves had been left behind in that ring.

Four-and-a-half years earlier, in “The Fight of the Century,” Frazier and his revered left hook had floored “The Greatest” and earned the defining victory of his career. Three years later, before another star-studded audience at Madison Square Garden, Ali evened the score in a less enthralling but still compelling 12-rounder.

Their trilogy was now tied at one apiece, the anticipation burning for the decider - the culmination of one of the great sporting rivalries.

Boxing has always loved its titles: 'The Fight of the Century', 'The Rumble in the Jungle', 'The Brawl in Montreal', 'The War'… a nod to Hollywood designed to hype and to sell.

Ali–Frazier III was christened “The Thriller in Manila.” It lived up to the billing. More than that, it became an unflinching reminder that boxing is not just a sport but a coliseum contest, where men gamble everything in pursuit of victory.

"It will be a killer and a chiller and a thriller when I get the gorilla in Manila," Ali quipped during the build-up.

Frazier’s reply was chillingly blunt: "It’s real hatred. I want to hurt him. I don’t want to knock him out. I want to take his heart out."

Ali’s barbs often skirted the line between playful and cruel, but for Frazier there was no room for comedy. He despised the boastful showman and wanted to prove he was not only the better fighter but the better man.

Rivalries have defined boxing across eras: Joe Louis and Max Schmeling, Sugar Ray Leonard and Roberto Durán, Manny Pacquiao and Juan Manuel Márquez. But Ali and Frazier sit apart.

Their contrasting styles and clashing personalities made for must-see television, whether across the ring or sparring with words on press tours, each ready to swing if the other dared move first.

When Ali and Frazier met, the definition of “superfight” belonged to them.

Mayweather–Pacquiao may have broken financial records, but their bloated rivalry was a candle in the wind compared to the firestorm Ali and Frazier created. Their fights weren’t just events; they were global pauses, moments when the world stood still.

They brought out the best in one another, but they also sought to destroy the other, leaving scars that would never heal.

After Manila, even seasoned reporters had never seen Ali look so broken. And this was only a year after George Foreman had tried to smash him to pieces in Zaire, only to be outwitted by Ali’s rope-a-dope genius.

This time there was no trickery, only punishment. Lumps bulged on Ali’s forehead, his eyes purpled, his body moving gingerly, like a man who had survived a car crash.

Frazier’s eyes were swollen nearly shut, his mouth bloodied, his face puffed. His trainer Eddie Futch, seeing what his fighter could not, stopped it at the end of the 14th round. "Sit down son, it’s all over. No one will ever forget what you did here today."

It was not surrender but compassion, the purest act of loyalty from a man who knew his fighter inside out. Neither Ali nor Frazier had touched the canvas, yet both had been brought to the brink.

Frazier made Ali a greater fighter, and Ali made the world recognise just how great Frazier truly was!

Ali dazzled with his dancing feet, his blurring hands, his brilliance at making the impossible look effortless. But perhaps his greatest weapon was his ability to endure punishment.

Frazier was his punisher. He may have looked like a brawler, but his timing, his bobbing and weaving, and his bursts of ferocity were calculated to get him inside and land that left hook with exclamation-point finality.

Boxing has never been the same since Ali and Frazier left one another, left the sport, and eventually left this earth.

Half a century on, fighters, musicians, actors, and politicians still invoke their names: “The Greatest” and “Smokin’ Joe.” No rivalry can match theirs, because Ali and Frazier were made for each other - and deep down, they probably knew it.

Shaun Brown

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