Michael Ventre

Even though history tried to force him into second place, Joe Frazier fought his way out of that tactical disadvantage and remained a champion.

It’s almost impossible to look at the career of Smokin’ Joe Frazier, who passed away far too soon Monday night from liver cancer at the age of 67, without also noticing the dancing shadow of Muhammad Ali. The two are locked in a clinch for eternity, and boxing fans tend to favor the flashier performer, especially when he is brilliant also as well as a once-in-a-lifetime personality.

But Joe Frazier was great, too. The phrase “Ali-Frazier” has been burned into the lexicon. It represents two titans of sport, not one and his able foil. It has been used to describe every clash between two parties of equal strength who pose a test to each other — Yankees-Red Sox, Lakers-Celtics, etc.

Equal strength. And he deserved equal treatment, and equal reverence. He shouldn’t have gone out suddenly, from a disease few knew he had until it was too late to rush to his aid.

Frazier lost two of the three meetings with Ali. But he triumphed in the first meeting at Madison Square Garden in March, 1971, knocking him down in the 15th round.

Slideshow   Boxing legend Joe Frazier Heavyweight champion Joe Frazier passed away on Nov. 7, 2011 after a brief battle with liver cancer. more photos

It’s hard to fathom now in the age of instantaneous communication and advanced gadgetry. Today youngsters would either find an Ali-Frazier app to get news about their fisticuffs, or they’d invent one.

But back then, average kids like myself who were obsessed with the magnitude and excitement of the first Ali-Frazier match drew a chair up from the kitchen table, sat next to the ancient radio, and waited for news breaks when round summations were read. That’s how I followed the first Ali-Frazier.

When Frazier knocked Ali to the canvas, I almost fell onto the kitchen tile.

At that moment, Frazier became legendary. He had become the undisputed heavyweight champion when he beat Jimmy Ellis in 1970. But somehow defeating Ali — who had become not just the face of boxing through his prowess, his mouth, and his defiance of the Vietnam War, but the face of all sports — gave Smokin’ Joe his own pedestal to rest on.

Frazier had some success afterward against the likes of Jerry Quarry and Ellis, but he lost two more to Ali and two to George Foreman, and fought for the last time in December of 1981 against Floyd Cummings, a draw in a comeback effort.

Video   Frazier vs. Ali Nov. 8, 2011: September 30, 1975: NBC's John Chancellor and Dick Schaap preview the "Thriller in Manila" the third boxing match between Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier for the heavy weight crown. The fight is considered one of the greatest boxing matches ever.

Frazier was a beast rather than an artist, and the public embraced the latter. Ali was beloved, while Frazier was acknowledged with respect. Ali was a man of the world, whereas Frazier was a man of Philadelphia. Ali mixed it up with controversy; Frazier’s only real tangle with the news was the occasional flurry he threw in return when Ali would jab him verbally.

Ali seemed petty when he would mock Frazier and call him a gorilla. I’m not here to suggest there was really underlying affection between the men all those years disguised as animosity.

But Ali’s entire success in life emerged from the unshakable confidence that he was The Greatest, and no man on earth could whip him. Yet Frazier did, and that didn’t sit well. Frazier shut Ali up, albeit temporarily. After that first bout in ’71, Ali realized for the first time his status as The Greatest was tenuous.

That was a monumental achievement for Frazier, far more important than one victory added to a boxer’s record. It was not out of the blue. Frazier had been an Olympic gold medalist and had established an impressive professional career up to ’71. But somehow the public was back on its heels, a little stunned by that outcome. And so was Ali.

Ali never let up, unleashing a barrage of insults that lasted for years and caused bitterness in Frazier. It was a twisted kind of Catch-22: fans respected Frazier, but Ali didn’t always do so publicly, and because Ali didn’t always do so publicly, some fans withheld some respect for Frazier.

The blows to his pride lasted up until a couple of years ago, when Frazier finally declared that he was no longer angry at Ali.

They shared a common bond in their post-boxing lives as well, although it’s safe to say that most boxers are in a fraternity of unenviable distress. Ali suffers from Parkinson’s disease and hasn’t been his old flamboyant self for many years now.

But Frazier settled into the former fighter’s life we have come to accept as the stereotype: financial difficulties, failed business ventures, personal issues, health problems. He was not the raging bull of the ‘60s and ‘70s, but rather a hero of the past flailing to survive in an unforgiving world with a short memory.

Slideshow   Gone, not forgotten Take a look at notable sports deaths of 2012. NBCSports.com

Some sports with major professional leagues take care of their own, at least to a certain extent. Boxing never does. It is merciless in the disposal of its practitioners. Crooked promoters and greedy managers are the rules rather than the exceptions, and the fighters themselves are often the real-life extensions of some ‘40s melodrama who always get the short end.

In a perfect world, the sport and its followers would have rushed to Frazier’s side at the slightest hint of serious illness, and nursed him back to health. Instead, by the time the news broke, Frazier was almost gone. It’s fitting that he died that way, given the sport’s scandalous lack of compassion, but it’s also terribly sad and tragic.

Yet we all make choices in life. In this case, we can remember Joe Frazier as the warrior who played second fiddle to Muhammad Ali. Or we can look back at him as a champion and an equal.

I’ll always remember Joe Frazier as a guy with strength, skill and guts, standing in the middle of the ring, his arm raised in triumph.

Standing alone, in nobody’s shadow.

Michael Ventre is a regular contributor to NBCSports.com; follow him at http://twitter.com/MichaelVentre44.