Still The Greatest . . . The most famous sportsman of the 20th century is 70. His legend is ageless

Ali, though, had to be seen to be believed. And even then he tested one's ability to believe what one had seen. His stature as the most important sportsman of the 20th century is surely unimpeachable. Yet Ali was not the best boxer of the century, perhaps not even the best heavyweight.

He was, though, both the greatest and The Greatest. He manufactured a personality early in his career that brought fame, even notoriety. This was him in the guise of The Greatest, talking trash and denigrating opponents with the facility of a professional wrestler.

He grew into a personality of substance. He was a brave, resilient boxer who took the outrageous blows from such as Ken Norton, Joe Frazier and George Foreman and endured. He was the objector who took on the US government over conscription and found a personal triumph in his defeat by bureaucracy. He was the black man who challenged America on race and suffered the consequence of outrageous abuse. He was the militant who found peace. This is Ali as the greatest.

Ali now trembles with the effects of a Parkinson-type syndrome. He no longer dances, walking with a shuffle that owes nothing to his trademark move in the ring. Yet he has found a serenity after a life that included three undisputed heavyweight championships of the world, four marriages and myriad of blows launched and sustained. He has accepted his frailty. ''God is showing me I am just a man like everyone else,'' he once said.

But what a man. Here are 15 of the stories that made a legend.

Round 1

Talking the talk: Cassius Marcellus Clay was born in Louisville, Kentucky. His father, also Cassius, would be a source of pain for Ali in later life. He was a drinker and was reported to police for threatening Ali's mother, Odessa. But he also witnessed the early days of The Greatest. ''I'd come home,'' said Clay Sr, ''and he would have 50 boys on the porch – addressing them.'' It was the first audience for a personality who would captivate the world.

Round 2

School's out: Ali gained a reputation for quick-wittedness but he was never a scholar. He graduated 376th out of a class of 391 at Central High School. His headmaster, though, was convinced the pupil would make a mark on the world. Ali agreed. ''I always felt I was born to do something for my people,'' he said.

Round 3

The cycle of life: The story of how a stolen bicycle changed a life and sporting history is one of the greatest tales. The young Cassius had his bike stolen from outside the Columbia Auditorium in Louisville in October 1954. ''I'll whup whoever took it,'' he cried. Joe Martin, a policeman who was training young boxers in the auditorium's gym, told Cassius he would have to learn to fight first. He was not an instant success. ''I fought like a girl,'' Ali said years later.

Round 4

The first knockdown: Cassius, the boy, learned the hard way. He was knocked out by a big-hitting amateur and on revival immediately asked his trainer: ''Which way did the motorbike go that hit me.''

Round 5

Striking gold: Ali won the Olympic gold medal in Rome 1960. Legend has it that he threw it into the Ohio river after he was refused service at a diner because he was black. This version was given in his autobiography but others claim he simply lost it. Whatever, he was given a replacement in 1996. It would be somehow appropriate if Ali has two golds for one title.

Round 6

Faltering steps: Ali's first coach was Archie Moore, the great boxer. He found his pupil something of a trial. ''The boy needed a good spanking,'' he said, ''but I was not sure who would give it to him.''

Round 7

Bonnie Dundee: The syndicate of white, southern businessmen bankrolling the boxer then enlisted Angelo Dundee, a trainer from an Italian immigrant family who took his second name from Johnny Dundee, aka Giuseppe Curreri, a featherweight champion at the beginning of the 20th century. Dundee was at Ali's side in all his great battles. Asked what he needed to do his job, Dundee replied: ''You have to be a doctor, an engineer, a psychologist, an actor . . .''

Round 8

Bear hunting: Ali took the title from Charles 'Sonny' Liston on February 25, 1964. Known as The Bear, Liston was stopped by Ali in two fights. Before the first, The Bear said: ''My fist is going so far down his throat it is going to take a week to pull it out.'' Instead, a rueful Liston was heard to wail after the fight: ''This is not the guy I was supposed to fight, this guy can hit.''

Round 9

Fighting the army: In April 1967, Ali refused to be conscripted to fight in the Vietnam war. He was sentenced to five years in prison, fined and lost his title. He never spent a day behind bars on this charge and was cleared by the Supreme Court in 1971. The only time Ali spent in prison was overnight in December 1968 when he was caught driving without insurance in Florida.

Round 10

The trying treble: Ali fought against Joe Frazier three times, losing the first at Madison Square Garden before winning the second three years later in the same venue. The third match-up was the greatest fight of all time. The Thrilla in Manila on October 1, 1975, ended when Eddie Futch, Frazier's trainer, reused to allow his boxer to go out for the final round. Frazier was exhausted and blinded in both eyes. Ali was in desperate shape. ''The closest thing to dying I know,'' he said later of the bout.

Round 11

Rumbled: George Foreman was the ogre, the invincible giant. Ali's camp feared the worst in the Rumble in the Jungle in Zaire on September 24, 1974. ''They came into my dressing room as if they were walking behind a coffin,'' he said. ''My coffin.'' Yet Ali floored the giant. He was champion of the world yet again. Hugh McIlvanney wrote: ''We should have known that Muhammad Ali would not settle for any ordinary old resurrection. His had to have an additional flourish. So, having rolled away the rock, he hit George Foreman on the head with it.''

Round 12

Seconds out: Drew Bundini Brown was Ali's cornerman, supporter and fellow rapper. It was Brown who came up with ''floats like a butterfly and stings like a bee''. He was also somewhat eccentric. When Ali bought a training camp in Deer Lake, Pennsylvania, he watched as Bundini dug holes all over the estate. Eventually Ali asked him what he was doing. ''This land was once owned by Al Capone,'' said Bundini. ''And I want to discover where he buried his treasure.''

Round 13

Good guy, bad guy: Ali once had two sides to his nature. He could be cruel, even vicious with his fists and with his words. Ernie Terrell insisted on calling him ''Cassius''. Ali cut and shredded Terrell in the 1967 fight, taunting him with the words: ''What's my name?'' In contrast, Ken Norton, one of Ali's most troublesome opponents, came out of a coma after a car crash to find Ali sitting opposite him. He was then treated to a performance of magic tricks.

Round 14

The last dance: By December 11, 1981, Ali was treading in dangerous waters. His speed had long since vanished, his power had diminished. Yet he took on and was beaten by Trevor Berbick, a journeyman boxer at best. Ali stayed on his feet throughout the fight. ''No pictures of me on the floor,'' he said of his last bout. ''No pictures of me falling through the ropes, no broken teeth. I'm happy I am still pretty.''

Round 15

Facing the final bell: Ali was physically damaged, though. He walks with difficulty, his words come out in a mumble, he falls asleep regularly and seemingly without warning. Yet he has found peace. His fortune has mostly disappeared. He makes money by putting his autograph on memorabilia. ''I sign my name, we eat,'' he once said. ''I do not want anyone to feel sorry for me because I had a good life before and I am having a good life now,'' he said. Ali grows older, slower, greyer and more frail. He is still the greatest.