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"&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em &gt;This story originally appeared in the June 10, 1963 issue of&amp;nbsp;&lt;/em&gt;Sports Illustrated&lt;em &gt;. Subscribe to the magazine&amp;nbsp;here.&lt;/em&gt;\r\n\r\n&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;England never did nor never shall lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, Shakespeare says, and, sure enough, she has endured plague, blitzkrieg, treacle pudding and Gauls. But then one day last week came the biggest gall of all. A TWA jet shrieked into London and discharged bumptious Cassius Clay. Instinctively, Britain braced.\r\n\r\n&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Self-advertised as \u201Cthe uncrowned world champion,\u201D Clay is indeed an extravagantly promising boxer and the next\u2014if illogical\u2014contender for Sonny Liston's heavyweight title. What brought him to London was a match with grizzled Henry Cooper, against whom Clay hoped to redress his sorry performance with Doug Jones last March. But the Clay-Cooper fight was still more than a fortnight away. In the meantime, Louisville's Lip decided to square off with Britain's Stiff Upper.\r\n\r\n&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cassius in England applied the economic theory he has found so workable in the U.S.: to sweeten the gate you must first sour the people. \u201CI'm only here,\u201D he told the natives, \u201Cmarking time before I annihilate that ugly bear, Liston.\u201D As for Henry Cooper, the British and Empire champion fondly known to fans as \u201COur 'Enery\u201D\u2014well, tut. He was a tramp, a bum and a cripple, Cassius allowed, not worth the sweat of the training ring. \u201CAfter five rounds,\u201D said Clay, \u201CHenry Cooper will think his name is Gordon Cooper: he'll be in orbit.\u201D Then Cassius set out to strut the town, offering his autograph for a \u00A35 note, calling Buckingham Palace a \u201Cswell pad\u201D and, while a cold shiver ran down the national spine, saying, \u201CIt's growing on me, England.\u201D\r\n\r\n&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Gradually the press found its own voice; columnists gruffed about his rudeness, his immodesty and his big mouth. Did he really mind? Hardly. His critics had fallen into the baited trap, his philosophy of sweet-and-sour ham was working like a charm, and tickets were selling like fish and chips. Observed C. Marcellus Clay Esq., riffling through a sheaf of sterling: \u201CI talk for these.\u201D\r\n\r\n&lt;h3&gt;LORD OF LOUISVILLE&lt;/h3&gt;\r\n\r\n&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;\u201CI'm not too worried about this Cooper fellow,\u201D Cassius Clay said recently, and it was plain he was not bluffing. Clay broke off training in Miami a full month before the fight and drove his Cadillac convertible to his home in Louisville. Angelo Dundee, his trainer, said he was confident Cassius would work out in Louisville, worried only that he might \u201Cgo stale from overtraining.\u201D Dundee's fears were groundless. Instead of working, a quiescent Cassius stayed up late, slept late and recited rough drafts of poems he would later deliver in England. Once he bestirred himself enough to have a television set installed in the rear seat of his car, another time rode a bike with neighborhood kids. But mostly he played Monopoly with the children. \u201CI'm tired of training to fight stiffs,\u201D he told them. \u201CAll's I want is a crack at Liston.\u201D\r\n\r\n&lt;h3&gt;TALK OF TWO CITIES&lt;/h3&gt;\r\n\r\n&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fearful of planes, Cassius drove on to New York with his brother Rudy, a friend named Tuddie King\u2014introduced variously as his chauffeur or bodyguard\u2014and a sparring partner, James Ellis. \u201CLouisville is a sad town,\u201D he said on arrival. \u201CIt doesn't have enough to do.\u201D What Cassius found to do in New York was to carouse with girl friends until 6 in the morning, to pay a social call on Sugar Ray Robinson (who stood him up) and to talk with his theatrical agent about a recording of Clay's amateurish poetry, some of which will be professionally embellished. Consumed with greed, Cassius also announced he would allow the fight to be televised by Telstar \u201Cprovided my cut is big enough.\u201D\r\n\r\n&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;\u201DThat's the spirit, baby,\u201D said his agent.\r\n\r\n&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then, more afraid of seasickness than engine failure, Cassius flew off to London. There he gave his first autograph to a customs official and held a press conference to which one paper had gleefully assigned its drama critic. Next Clay Rolls-Royced to Nottingham and whipped a fight crowd there into a frenzy of good-natured catcalls and boos by holding aloft the signboard designating round five, a reference to the moment when he has predicted that he will dispatch Cooper. \u201CA most inflammable person,\u201D breathed a girl, falling hard for his style.\r\n\r\n&lt;h3&gt;WITH LONDON AT BAY&lt;/h3&gt;\r\n\r\n&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Not everyone found Clay's flame irresistible, and evidence of this came from both sides of the Atlantic. Time you start training, crackled a cable from Cassius's Louisville headquarters. \u201CYou talk too much,\u201D cracked a BBC television announcer while interviewing Clay. But Clay paid no particular mind. He went nightclubbing, attended the dog races\u2014where he watched the Cassius Clay Hurdles\u2014and dropped in at posh Gieves, outfitters to H.R.H. The Duke of Edinburgh. He sauntered out with a new bowler (his head is lopsided, the hatter said) and a red brocade cocktail jacket with a dragon motif. \u201CPeople tell me to hang one on him and button his lip,\u201D said Henry Cooper, \u201Cand 1 am looking forward to doing just that.\u201D Naturally, at week's end Henry Cooper was the sentimental favorite. And, naturally, the smart money was all behind Cassius Clay.\r\n\r\n&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;\r\n&lt;/p&gt;"^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.si.com/boxing/2015/09/23/cassius-clay-henry-cooper-london-vault-jun-10-1963>