You’ve seen it a thousand times. It’s on dorm room posters, t-shirts, and expensive coffee table books. Muhammad Ali, muscles rippling under the harsh strobe lights of a tiny arena in Maine, screaming at a crumpled Sonny Liston to get back up. It’s basically the definitive image of 20th-century athletic dominance.
But honestly? At the time, nobody really cared about it.
When photographer Neil Leifer snapped that shot in 1965, his editors at Sports Illustrated didn’t even put it on the cover. They buried it on page four. It took decades for the world to decide that Ali standing over Liston was the greatest sports photo ever taken. And the story behind how that frame actually happened—and the "phantom punch" that caused it—is way messier than the clean, heroic image suggests.
The Fluke That Created a Legend
Neil Leifer was only 22 years old when he walked into St. Dominic’s Arena in Lewiston, Maine. He wasn’t even the "top dog" photographer there. That was Herb Scharfman. Because Scharfman had seniority, he got to pick his seat first. He chose the spot right next to the judges.
Leifer was left with the "wrong" side of the ring.
Then the fight started. One minute and 44 seconds later, Ali landed a right hand so fast that half the crowd missed it. Liston went down. Because of where they were sitting, Ali was facing Leifer. If you look closely at the famous photo, you can see a guy with a camera between Ali's legs. That’s Herb Scharfman. He’s looking up at Ali's backside, his own shot completely ruined.
Leifer, meanwhile, had his Rolleiflex ready. He only had one shot. Literally. His strobe lights took several seconds to recharge, so if he clicked too early or too late, he’d have nothing but a dark frame. He waited. He watched Ali hover. He clicked.
Boom. History.
What Ali Was Actually Yelling
In the photo, Ali looks like a god-king demanding a fallen foe acknowledge his power. But the reality was more frantic. Ali wasn't just showing off; he was genuinely pissed.
"Get up and fight, sucker!" Ali screamed. "Nobody will believe this!"
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He was right. Nobody did. The "phantom punch" (which Ali later called the "anchor punch") looked like a love tap to the people in the back rows. There were immediate cries of a fix. People thought the mob had gotten to Liston. Some thought the Nation of Islam had threatened him.
The chaos of that moment is why Ali is standing there. He was so caught up in the madness that he refused to go to a neutral corner, which meant the referee, Jersey Joe Walcott, couldn't actually start the count. It was a complete officiating disaster.
Why the Photo Languished for Years
- Black and White vs. Color: Most newspapers at the time used black and white. Leifer was shooting in color, which was expensive and harder to process quickly.
- The Controversy: The fight was seen as a joke. Why celebrate a photo of a "fake" knockout?
- Ali's Reputation: In 1965, Ali wasn't a global hero. He was a polarizing figure who had just changed his name and joined the Nation of Islam. Many people in the sports world actively disliked him.
It wasn't until the 1980s and 90s, as Ali’s legacy shifted from "radical" to "global icon," that the photo's value skyrocketed. We started to view it through the lens of nostalgia rather than the lens of the weird, suspicious night in Maine.
The Technical Luck of the Rolleiflex
Leifer used a medium-format camera, which gives the image that weirdly sharp, "studio" look despite being a live event. The arena was filled with blue cigar smoke. Normally, that would make a photo look grainy or muddy. But Leifer’s overhead strobes cut through the haze, creating a halo effect around Ali.
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It’s the kind of lighting you can't fake. It makes Ali look like he’s on a stage, not in a sweaty high school gym in a town of 40,000 people.
Actionable Insights for Boxing Fans and History Buffs
If you want to truly appreciate the Ali standing over Liston moment beyond the poster, you should look at the details most people ignore:
- Check the Background: Find the high-resolution version and look for Herb Scharfman between Ali's legs. It's a great reminder that being the "best" often requires being in the "right" place.
- Watch the Tape: Look for the "anchor punch" on YouTube. If you watch it at 0.25x speed, you can see the connection. It wasn't a "phantom" blow; it was a short, chopping right hand that caught Liston moving forward.
- Context Matters: Remember that this was the rematch. Liston had quit on his stool in the first fight. The tension in that room in Lewiston was thick enough to cut with a knife.
The image works because it captures Ali at his absolute peak of "braggadocio," as Leifer calls it. It’s the version of the man we want to remember—strong, loud, and completely in control of a world that was trying to tell him to shut up.
To get the full story of Ali's technical skill, look up Leifer's other favorite shot: the overhead view of Ali vs. Cleveland Williams in 1966. It shows the geometry of the ring in a way that makes the "standing over Liston" shot look like a lucky accident. Combine those two perspectives, and you'll see why Ali wasn't just a talker—he was a master of the space he stood in.