Bryan Burwell

As we sit here watching the next generation of athletic icons establish themselves over in Beijing, I wonder which one will become that larger-than-life figure whose legend transcends sports and lasts a lifetime. The Olympics has long been the place to mint those golden heroes who stay forever young in our minds.

So it was 48 years ago in Rome, when the world got its first glimpse of this kid named Cassius Clay. He was witty and charming and talented, but at the time we had no idea just how much all those gifts would flourish. At the time we had no idea who that kid would grow up to be.

A legend named Muhammad Ali.

But someone knew. Angelo Dundee knew almost right away. From the moment Clay walked up those creaky old steps of the old 5th Street Gym in old Miami Beach, Dundee knew something remarkable was about to happen.

“I could just tell there was something special about the kid,” Dundee said.

Maybe it’s out of habit, or maybe it’s something a bit more subliminal. For some reason even he can never sufficiently explain, Dundee still calls Muhammad Ali “the kid.” More than 40 years after the salad days as part of the provocative athletic/social circus, the legendary old boxing trainer reminisces as if in real time.

“I’ve never had a bad moment with this kid,” said the legendary old trainer the other day. “I’ve never had a beef with this kid.”

I like that constant reference to Ali as “the kid,” because in some small way,  Dundee’s stubborn insistence subconsciously preserves the memory and the vision of that brash young man named Cassius Clay/Muhammad Ali just as it should be. Isn’t this what we all do with our athletic icons, seeing them forever in sepia-toned perfection?

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So why should Dundee be any different? Dundee was on the telephone, and the conversation darts along, reveling in the glory days of Ali’s legend when time and circumstance transformed him from that charming clown prince named Clay into the politically mesmerizing icon named Ali. Dundee is one of the chief characters in a vivid PBS documentary on those halcyon days in the early 1960s when Clay made that transformation into Ali. As hard as it is to believe that another documentary on Ali could cover new ground (I googled no fewer than 14 other films on his life), “Muhammad Ali: Made in Miami” (on DVD release this week) did just that.

“There were some things in there that even I didn’t know,” Dundee admitted.

This hour-long film, produced by Alan Tomlinson and Gaspar Gonzalez, does a fascinating job of traveling back in time to tell the stories of Ali’s Miami years, when he lived in the black section of town called Overtown, trained at the famous 5th Street Gym on Miami Beach, and became something of a celebrity pied piper as everyone from the Beatles to Jackie Gleason, Sammy Davis Jr. to Malcolm X entered this dank old place for an audience with the kid who was on his way to becoming the world’s most famous athlete.