When Big George Foreman landed that devastating one-two combination to the head of heavyweight champ Michael Moorer on Nov. 5, 1994, at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas, the noise from the over 12,000 patrons was the loudest I had ever heard.
In over 50 years of covering the sweet science, no crowd noise has ever been that loud. The roof must have moved two inches upward.
The victory would anoint Foreman, at 45, the oldest heavyweight champion and a future member of the International Boxing Hall of Fame
And now that Foreman has died on Friday night at the age of 76, his life is a testament to the power of reinventing oneself.
From 1968 Olympic boxing champion to heavyweight champion, to ex-champ to retiree, to preacher, to fighter again, to champion again, to ex-champ again, to beloved pitchman, all these facets made up Big George Foreman.
When Foreman started his ring comeback after ten years away from the sport, the veteran boxing scribes told me this was all a ruse. They went out of their way to tell me what a mean-spirited jerk he was as a young fighter on his way to the heavyweight crown.
Once in the ring, he brutalized heavyweight champ Joe Frazier and contender Ken Norton in two rounds and Jose Roman in one round as he started his reign.
Then came the “Rumble in the Jungle” as Muhammad Ali stopped the undefeated Foreman in October 1974 in what was then Zaire in eight rounds.
With his comeback in full bloom, I pondered if this was the same guy the writers were so down on?
He was funny and self-deprecating and had time for the press.
Now in his death, we have time for him again.
A week ago, Jim Lampley, Foreman’s long-tine broadcast partner at HBO, told me, “George Foreman and I became friends and a very trusted advisor. George Foreman ultimately loosened up enough to give me advice and counsel on life, and he has great wisdom in that regard.”
Friday was a different tone from Lampley: “I am flooded with tears after hearing of the death of my dear friend and broadcast partner, George Foreman. I loved him. He was a great fighter and a far, far greater human being. Every great thing that ever happened to him, and there were many extraordinary blessings, was richly deserved. My thoughts and prayers are with his family and his friends and his congregation.
“It’s a massive loss, but I feel blessed and privileged to have known him and spent countless hours in his presence. He’s with Ali now and they are at peace with each other.”
When I covered Foreman’s loss to Evander Holyfield in Atlantic City in April 1991, he told the press: “I had him sometimes, but he also had me.” He was sporting a swollen right cheek and sunglasses to cover the bruises from Holyfield’s super quick punches. “He’s a fine champion. I thought I had him, but [trainer] Lou Duva snuck a mule in there and he kept kicking me.”
Television was definitely in his future.
Even his last fight against Shannon Briggs at the Taj Mahal in Atlantic City on Nov. 22, 1997, I had it scored 117-113 for Foreman and was telling my broadcast partner that Briggs’ stock had gone up by going 12 rounds with Foreman.
When they announced the victory for Briggs, I just shook my head.
That’s boxing.
Foreman was more than boxing as his George Foreman Grill made him more popular and extremely rich.
But he was made for boxing.
People didn’t realize he was as wide as he was tall. If he had decided to make a comeback last year, he could have knocked out half the top ten contenders if that is ever a thing anymore. His pro record was 76-5 with 68 knock outs. The only man to stop him was Ali.
There was a strange side to Foreman in and out of the ring. Remember, he fought five men in one night to show he was still a viable contender in 1975 in Toronto.
He had his own short-lived sitcom “George” on ABC from 1993-94 and appeared in “The Masked Singer” in 2022 as the “Venus Fly Trap.”
Then he was married four times with twelve children; seven daughters and five sons all named George Edward Foreman.
He left his mark in boxing with power and strength, but he wasn’t invincible. His loss to Ali was disastrous to him but exhilarating for Ali’s fans. If you want to see Foreman’s power and comeback ability in full force, check out his 1976 uber-battle vs. Ron Lyle on YouTube.
That fight even made my mother get up and shadow box.
He also had a unique sense of awareness.
In 1995, the Boxing Writers Association of America was honoring Foreman as the 1994 Fighter of the year. His defeat of Moorer made it a no-brainer. He was sitting on the dais next to me as I was the president of the Boxing Writers.
In a lull in the awards dinner, two men approached Foreman.
They were Roy Innis and Niger Innis of the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE). They started congratulating Foreman and couldn’t wait to see him at their awards dinner in a few months as he was their Man of the Year.
Foreman had this puzzled look on his face. He didn’t know what they were talking about. Foreman asked them if they had spoken with his assistant.
When they said no, Foreman said everything goes through her and I don’t know anything about this.
They gushed about what a great night it will be with you as our Man of the Year.
Again, Foreman stated if it didn’t go through his assistant, then it won’t happen. You have to talk to her, he kindly repeated.
The two of them walked away, not even asking Foreman for his assistant’s name and number.
“I don’t think they have a clue how this works,” I said to Foreman.
“I don’t think so either,” he replied.
A few weeks later it was announced that Evander Holyfield was CORE’s Man of the Year.
RIP Big George.
