Boxing: Once-lord of the ring Ali sad sight

It is easy to get cynical about public relations and sports sponsorship when it is continually thrown in your face, and it was even easier after Muhammad Ali's Olympic Games entrance.

The greatest is not looking so great these days, the result of Parkinson's disease.

He is in Australia at the invitation of one Anthony Pratt, the deputy chairman of Olympic "providers" Visy, a company whose operations include carton manufacturing.

Just what Pratt's link with maybe the greatest figure in sports history is remains unclear, although of course they have boxing in common.

The sight of Ali lighting the Olympic flame in Atlanta was a truly moving image of a once-great athlete determined but struggling to do a simple task, his body resisting the commands probably as a result of the sport which made him so famous.

It really did bring a tear to the eye, which is what his entrance in Sydney could easily have done for a different reason.

Ali, the light heavyweight gold medallist at Rome in 1960, was introduced to the "world's sporting media" in a large tent outside the Rosehill race track, between races three and four.

Ali can barely mumble these days, which is probably why there were plenty of photographers and camera operators there but few journalists.

The build-up was almost as extraordinary as the entrance.

A highly enthusiastic MC told those assembled that "one of the greatest human beings to have walked the planet" would honour us with his presence shortly.

Then up stepped Kevan Gosper - the man who thought the phrase Olympic family referred to his relatives.

He is the Australian IOC character who arranged for his daughter to replace another young Australian as the first bearer of the Olympic flame when it left Greece.

Gosper is not held in particularly high regard and the commonly held, tongue-in-cheek, assumption is that his mum will get to light the Olympic flame at Stadium Australia.

It has to be assumed that the MC was not referring to Kev.

Gosper speeches are greeted with a stunned silence, but the MC made up for that.

Taking his ring-announcer persona to the extreme, he told us with ever-increasing volume: "And now for the man who has not brought Muhammad Ali to Australia once, but twice."

It went on and on in that vein until reaching a crescendo with: "introducing, Mr Annnthoneeeeee Praaaatt."

Suffice to say that Mr Praaatt's speech was not worth recording.

Ali's entrance was a shambles. No area was cordoned off so after entering through a flap he was set upon by photographers, who elbowed each other for the best position.

This swirling mass of bodies, with Ali and his wife in the middle, wormed its way to the speaking area.

The extraordinary thing was there was enough room in the massive tent to swing hundreds of cats. But no, everyone had decided this was the time to have a mad scrum as the MC yelled something about Ali representing "peace, hope and dignity."

Then there was Ali's speech. These ears could not understand one single word and that is not an exaggeration.

A few at the front laughed at one point, so maybe he got a message across to a few. But the rest didn't have a hope. It was not peaceful, pretty hopeless, and very undignified.

An Australian journalist wondered if Ali liked the mass adulation swirling in his face. Maybe it reminded him of those many great entries into fight rings. Or maybe the still playful Ali likes to be among people.

Which brings up an anecdote from Annnthoneeeeee Praaaatt.

"I asked Ali once what was the definition of greatness," said Mr Praaaatt, indulging in a bit of name-dropping you just couldn't hope to match. "The greatest told me 'you don't look down on those who look up to you'."