As a preteen, I was confused when my father told me about George Foreman because what I saw on television didn't quite match what he was trying to explain.
"That guy?" I asked as ring announcer Michael Buffer introduced Foreman for his heavyweight title fight against Evander Holyfield on April 19, 1991. Foreman wore a red robe with the hood covering his bald head. A white towel covered the front of his 257-pound frame as he paced back and forth. During the introductions, Buffer said Foreman was "considered the most devastating puncher in boxing history." To me, that sounded preposterous because Mike Tyson was the most devastating puncher I had seen with my two young eyes.
Foreman removed the robe and met Holyfield in the middle of the ring, his 42-year-old body starkly contrasted the chiseled Adonis who stood across from him. I grew up infatuated with pro wrestling, so I was very much a "body guy" and Foreman didn't look like Ultimate Warrior, Hulk Hogan or "Macho Man" Randy Savage. Foreman was a bit round and puffy. He looked as if he didn't belong in the same ring as Holyfield. In pro wrestling terms, he looked like a "jobber" -- a guy routinely sent out for "squash matches" to make the main event talent look great. Tyson had beaten plenty of jobbers. Foreman looked like a boxer Tyson would have dispatched in the first round.
"That guy?" I again asked before the fight started.
Foreman would lose by unanimous decision, but he badly wobbled Holyfield in a fantastic seventh round that saw both fighters absorb tremendous punishment. The television commentators gushed over Foreman's performance that night and routinely talked about the earlier version of the boxer, the one who fought Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier. That confused me because Ali and Frazier were legends I had only heard about and seen on VHS tape recordings. They were old now. They fought Foreman?
In hip-hop music, sampling is incorporating a portion of an existing audio recording into a new song. The sound is familiar but has been altered in some way to exist in the modern day. As someone who grew up on hip-hop, it was a gateway for me to learn about the artists of the past. A Tribe Called Quest's "Electric Relaxation" introduced me to "Mystic Brew" by Ronnie Foster, Snoop Dogg's "Doggy Dogg World" opened me up to Kool & the Gang's "Summer Madness" and what's a hip-hop artist without a sample of James Brown's "Funky Drummer" somewhere in their catalog?
The version of Foreman I watched go toe-to-toe with Holyfield was a sample and I was determined to find the original.
And what I found blew my mind.
I'm not entirely sure how I ended up finding old footage of Foreman, but I was astounded by this slimmer version who had a full head of hair and absolutely obliterated his opposition. Watching his two-round decimation of Joe Frazier in their first fight in 1973 left me in awe with the way Foreman clubbed Frazier to the canvas six times in less than six minutes to Howard Cosell's famous call: "Down goes Frazier!"
And then I saw the "Rumble in the Jungle."
I was perplexed by the way Ali allowed Foreman to pound on him relentlessly for seven rounds before turning the tables and famously knocking out "Big George" in the eighth round of their epic 1974 clash. It dawned on me that I had seen Foreman before on the wrong end of this Ali highlight, but my young brain couldn't tie the present to the past.
Another sample. Another version of a fighter who was remembered and revered in different eras. By now I was fascinated by the life of Foreman. I wouldn't say he was my favorite fighter, but he piqued my curiosity and served as a bridge between the past and the present. Although he lost to Holyfield, he made me rethink what it meant to be "old" in boxing and in life. I looked at my father differently. People in their 40s weren't decrepit and on death's doorstep. There was so much life to live as long as you were dedicated to living it to the fullest.
Foreman was dedicated to living and creating a new chapter of his life.
Fast forward to Nov. 5, 1994 and I was now a teenager and a devoted boxing fan. Foreman had just lost to rising star Tommy Morrison and I was surprised when he was announced as the opponent for heavyweight champion Michael Moorer. Foreman was approaching age 46 and hadn't done anything to warrant a fight with an undefeated fighter 19 years his junior. I assumed this to be the time when Foreman would "do the job" by being the popular name Moorer could put on his résumé to elevate his star power. In wrestling terms, the old man was going to "put Moorer over."
All Moorer needed to do was become the second man to knock out Foreman, but Foreman was able to push a left jab through Moorer's relaxed guard and follow it with a right hand that sent the champion down in a heap.
"It happened! It happened!" commentator Jim Lampley shouted in disbelief.
Foreman proved that "Age Ain't Nothing But a Number" was more than a song by the late Aaliyah Haughton. He defied the odds and wouldn't let Father Time have the last laugh.
Foreman fought four more times after that historic night and hung up the gloves for good when he lost a majority decision to Shannon Briggs in 1997. Foreman was just a few weeks shy of his 49th birthday but was already in the process of reinventing himself yet again as an entrepreneur and businessman with an endearing smile and a product that got plenty of young adults through their college lives.
The George Foreman grill.
Yeah, he was that guy, too. And for a lot of nonboxing fans, he will be remembered more as the guy with the grill than the menacing boxer.
In some ways, what Foreman accomplished over 30 years ago has made what NBA star LeBron James continues to do in his astonishing age-40 season more digestible because the template had been set.
Reinvention. Defying the odds. Defeating Father Time. And he did it with a smile.
For me, George Foreman will forever be remembered as "That Guy."