From the opening bell, it is obvious that Clay’s pre-match taunting, the months of psychological warfare and practical jokes, have hit their mark. Liston, once a showman of self-confidence, shuffles toward the middle of the ring, launches a trademark punch, and connects with…a wisp of stuffy air. Clay has danced his way to safety, exactly as he had predicted he would! Infuriated, the champion advances again, and bam! Another powerful blow crushes the air—but nothing else. Another jab, another miss. And still another. By now the eager challenger has begun to taunt the humiliated champion, egging him on. A silent motion with his arms, "Come on! Here I am, come and get me!" precedes still another miss by Liston. The Louisville Lip smiles and dances about the ring, his arms hanging loosely at his sides in the ultimate show of "no fear." Each new attack by Liston brings an effective counter from Clay; either he dodges the blows entirely, or uses his left arm as an effective jamming station.

Liston silently welcomes the bell signaling the end of Round One, as there is little doubt in anyone’s mind that all three minutes belonged to Cassius Clay. The champion, nine years older and thus supposedly wiser, slumps into his chair in the corner, trying to digest the fact that during those three torturous minutes, he had managed to land only one single punch.

Despite reassurance from his trainer that one round does not a champion make, it is a grim-looking Sonny Liston who enters the ring at the second bell. His self-confidence, already dangling from a thread, is snapped and stretched to the limit throughout the next three minutes, which prove little more than an instant replay of Round One.

Three is the charm, or so Liston hopes. He enters the ring intent on regaining faith in himself, but within seconds it becomes clear Clay is out to destroy any such notion. Convinced the fight is his for the taking, Cassius quickly becomes the aggressor, swapping his evasive dance moves for an all out frontal attack. Jerking right, then left, the young challenger dodges each of Liston’s blows while connecting with massive shots of his own. Suddenly the champion is vulnerable, bleeding and covering up.

Clay senses his opponent’s upcoming demise. "I can remember a certain moment halfway through the third round very well. During clinches I note that he can’t follow the tempo anymore. His face is bloated thanks to my punches. I launch more right crosses and tear open the skin underneath his left eye. I can see he is shocked, amazed, totally confused."

Indeed, Liston is reeling from the young challenger’s attack—and vows to reciprocate the favor before round’s end. Advancing full speed ahead on the presumptuous, taunting Clay, Sonny launches a vicious barrage of counter punches, most of which connect with nothing but the now-familiar whiffs of cool air. On the rare occasion the champion does manage to land a punch, the Louisville Lip brushes it off with a trademark grin and a follow-up dance across the ring.

The sound of the bell is music to Liston’s ears. He slumps in his corner, grateful for the opportunity to escape the embarrassment of his performance, regardless of how short the relief. His attendants attempt to apply damage control, but Liston returns to the ring for the next round looking more like a third-rate sparring partner than the heavyweight champion of the world.

A smile beams from Cassius’s face as he greets his opponent with a verbal slap in the face: "You see now that I am the greatest?"

Liston responds by becoming the aggressor once again, hoping, almost praying that just one of his steel fists will connect full force, silencing his tormentor from hell with a swift, harsh trip to the canvas. No such contact is made…and yet suddenly, Clay is reeling away, trying to cover up. Spears of pain shoot through his eyes, a burning so intense he is left virtually defenseless as the champion advances. All that advances for Clay is pain; by the end of Round Four, his vision is restricted to the use of a partially open, blurry left eye; the right has swollen completely shut.

The challenger’s camp, a formerly elated bunch who had envisioned dousing themselves with the champagne of certain victory, are suddenly struggling to quell the ugly stench of panic fogging their corner. The finger pointing begins. A group of Black Muslims gathered ringside conclude the white traitor in Clay’s corner must be responsible for the deceitful trick that has left him sightless, and proceed to converge on a confused Angelo Dundee. But wait. Just as it appears the anxious trainer will be tossed from the ring, Ferdie Pacheco’s cold-bloodedness pops to the surface to save the day, and possibly, the future of Cassius Clay. As the angry mob approaches, Pacheco allows Dundee to rub his eyes with the same water he had used to work on Clay. The symbolic gesture freezes the group in their tracks. Reluctantly, they opt to retreat. It will be sometime before anyone learns the true reason for Clay’s temporary blindness: ointment used on Liston’s injured shoulder had wound up on the challenger’s forehead sometime during the exchange of blows in Round Four, mixed with Clay’s perspiration, and dripped into his eyes. Meanwhile, with Round Five only seconds away, the reasons, whatever they are, seem pathetically irrelevant to young Cassius, who remains in considerable pain. Unable to focus, clearly discouraged and exhausted, he wonders aloud whether he should call it a night.

But Dundee scoffs at the idea of an early shower. "No question about it," he screams at his fighter, "the heavyweight title’s at stake!" A shove, courtesy of the desperate trainer, and bam! Clay is back in the ring, barely able to see his charging opponent, let alone present a serious challenge.

Game over, most in attendance concede, secretly pitying the defenseless young man so once full of dreams…but the Louisville Lip is not ready for the funeral just yet. Thanks to years of preparation and his patented, dance-step quickness, Clay manages to sense Liston’s punches coming, and is able to block or dodge the Champ’s best shots. His gloves raised in defense and blinking like a madman, the challenger remains on his feet through the sound of the round-ending bell. By now his vision has begun to clear. His self-confidence soars. Despite having been saddled with a stiff disadvantage, Cassius has withstood Liston’s best! He saunters to his corner, the anticipation of an upset victory searing the air.

Meanwhile, knowledgeable boxing fans have quietly noted the change in Liston’s style; since the beginning of Round Four, the champion has relegated his left arm to the sole purpose of providing defense; all attacks toward the challenger are led by his right. Whether this proves to be a coincidence or signifies a fix remains irrelevant for the time being as the match continues.

Clay enters Round Six with clear vision and new-found determination. Taking the offensive once again, he attacks with a series of small left teasers that succeed in opening up Liston’s defense. A burst of short but powerful combinations follow, noticeably draining the champion of energy and the will to go on. But this is not the time for over-confidence. Even though Cassius senses the victory, he is careful to remain alert, least Sonny come back with that one unsuspecting punch that will put him out for the count. Not this round. The ding of the bell is lost beneath a wave of thunderous applause for the fast-talking challenger as he takes a seat.

The bell rings again, and Round Seven is underway. But wait…is that the heavyweight champion of the world, still sitting on his butt in the corner? Yes! Liston refuses to answer the call, becoming the first fighter to surrender his crown from the chair since Jess Willard in 1919. Whereas the damage report on Willard had been severe—a broken jaw and six missing teeth—Liston appears as if he should be able to finish the fight. But looks prove deceiving. The champ has suffered a deep cut below the eye and a dislocated shoulder, comes the word from his corner. He will not continue.

The world has a new heavyweight champion, and Clay is not the least bit shy about conveying the news. "I shook up the world!" he shouts, jumping up and down, storming about the ring. "I shook up the world!"