Never was a thrown towel soaked in more honour

I SAW Joe Frazier at Madison Square Garden but not, alas, in the Fight of the Century. It was just last January and Joe was courtside for Knicks-Spurs in the NBA.

The old legs appeared sound enough when he bounced up to let generous acclaim echo round the rafters of a roof that had once barely contained the anger he brought into the ring.

It was Frazier’s legs — not the signature left, the elusive bob or the busy jab — that captivated the incomparable Norman Mailer.