Deep within Maine, where the Androscoggin River gently winds its way, lies a town that, despite its unassuming appearance, holds a significant position in the history of boxing.
To divert attention from Wednesday's grim headlines, it is better to travel back to May 25, 1965, when the town of Lewiston, Maine, became the epicenter of an unforgettable sporting spectacle.
While the name Lewiston may not readily roll off the tongues of many, this unassuming town's claim to fame far transcends its tranquil facade.
It wrote its name into history when the cacophony of the boxing world descended upon its unassuming streets in May 1965, unleashing what would become one of the most contentious and memorable matches the sport has ever witnessed.
On that fateful day, the boxing universe bore witness to the ultimate grudge match, a rematch that would forever etch itself into the annals of pugilistic lore.
In one corner, there was a brash and young 23-year-old boxing champion, still going by the name of Cassius Clay, making his debut under the moniker we now revere: Muhammad Ali.
In the other corner stood the former heavyweight champ, the formidable Sonny "the Bear" Liston.
The stakes could not have been higher; this was a battle for the heavyweight championship of the world, and the world's gaze was fixed upon Lewiston.
The battlefield, an unassuming no-frills arena, had been hastily set up in the middle of a hockey rink, nestled within a modest residential neighborhood.
A far cry from the grandeur of legendary boxing venues, this unpretentious venue was originally built by a parish in 1958 for high school hockey games.
Little did anyone know that it would soon be transformed into the epicenter of the boxing world.
Hopes were high that the rematch would bring glory and fame to Lewiston, but instead, it became known locally as "the fiasco" or "the debacle."
The official ticketed attendance, a mere 2,434 spectators, marked a historic low for a heavyweight title fight in modern history.
Yet, the unofficial crowd swelled to over 4,000, including fans who managed to score free tickets, a battalion of media and reporters, and even those who skillfully slipped past lax security.
The bout kicked off around 10:40 p.m.
In a heartbeat, at the 1-minute-40-second mark, the slow left jab from Sonny Liston set the stage for the breathtaking drama that would unfold.
In a moment that would go down in history, the late Muhammad Ali, who appeared to be in retreat, countered Liston's jab with a lightning-quick, short, chopping right hook.
The world watched in awe as Liston tumbled to the canvas, Ali standing over his fallen foe, taunting him with the now-infamous words, "Get up and fight, sucker!"
A legend was born in that split second.
This was no ordinary knockout; it was an event marred by confusion and controversy.
The referee, Jersey Joe Walcott, the knockdown timekeeper, Francis McDonough, and Nat Fleischer, the editor of Ring Magazine, grappled with determining the precise moment of Liston's fall and the bout's conclusion.
Walcott initially declared one minute as the official time, but a meticulous review of the tape unveiled that Liston had fallen at 1:44, risen at 1:56, and the fight had officially ceased at 2:12.
Lewiston, Maine, had borne witness to an epoch-making event that would forever be etched into the hallowed pages of boxing's rich history.
