Commentary: From polarizing to beloved, George Foreman sold us on his authentic self
The first time George Foreman allowed the world to see him happy, he created an uproar. He was stunned. It was the final day of the 1968 Olympics in Mexico City, and after he destroyed Soviet Union boxer Ionas Chepulis in a gold medal heavyweight fight billed the “Cold War clash,” he circled the ring holding a small U.S. flag.
In one of the most tumultuous years in American history, his joy and patriotism became controversial. Ten days earlier, John Carlos and Tommie Smith had raised black fists in protest during their medal ceremony. Part of America thought Foreman had been persuaded to deliver a symbolic rebuke of Carlos and Smith. Part of America delighted and weaponized him against a Black community protesting against racial inequality. At 19 years old, Foreman learned to scowl.
“My face changed into a sword,” he once told ESPN’s Andscape.
Foreman died Friday as a jolly, beloved man known for his grandpa-like charm, business savvy and unrelenting commitment to personal growth. He squeezed so many lives into his 76 years. Some of his greatest admirers didn’t know him as a boxer. He was just Big George, the guy in the funny commercials who sold grills that made cooking foolproof.
Foreman reveled in the multiplicity of his fame. He was a little of everything: teen troublemaker from the Fifth Ward in Houston; giddy gold medalist; surly heavyweight champion at age 24; brooding loser to Muhammad Ali in the “Rumble in the Jungle” at 25; retired boxer and born-again Christian at 28; ordained minister; folksy ringside analyst; surprising heavyweight champion for second time at 45; celebrity entrepreneur; endorsement king. From street brawler to huckster, he kept changing. After his awkward introduction, America learned to embrace all his shifts.
His growth is an American story we need to hear and cherish at a different, yet still difficult, time. Foreman learned at an early age that he wasn’t for everyone. In 1968, he couldn’t meet a combative moment because he wasn’t an athlete activist. But with a brawling style and menacing image, he wasn’t going to be embraced by the nation, either. The rejection made him distant and defiant.
Spencer Haywood, who led the U.S. men’s basketball team to gold in 1968, befriended Foreman in Mexico City. The two “ate up all the food every day” at the Olympic Village, Haywood recalled to me a few years ago. Haywood felt for Foreman after the flag-waving controversy.
“It wasn’t that deep,” Haywood said. “He was just proud. But that’s where we were in America. It was just a damn crazy year, you know what I’m saying?”
For the next six years, the incident fueled Foreman. It gave him an edge. In the ring, he could knock out his opponent – and everyone else. He was one of the most feared champions ever, a 6-foot-3, 220-pound chiseled specimen with a big Afro and devastating power. He won his first 40 fights, 37 by knockout. Then in 1974, he fought Ali, who was seven years his senior and supposedly past his prime in a bout billed as “the Rumble in the Jungle.”
Ali and Foreman received $5 million, then a record, to fight in Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of Congo). Foreman figured it would be easy money for a short fight. But he ended up bowing to greatness. Ali unleashed the rope-a-dope, leaning against the ropes and absorbing Foreman’s powerful punches and countering when Foreman was too tired to defend himself. Ali knocked out Foreman in the eighth round, shattering his mean and punishing aura.
Big George was devastated. His rage was no longer an asset. Instead of fear, people started to pity him. He felt again like the poor kid who brought an empty lunch bag to school, pretending because he was ashamed his family couldn’t afford food.
Three years later, during a fight against Jimmy Young in Puerto Rico. Foreman was beaten for a second time. After judges awarded Young a 12-round unanimous decision, Foreman collapsed in the locker room. The near-death experience changed him. He devoted his life to God. He started to live for others. He retired from boxing, and 10 years later, he came back at 38 mostly because he needed money to save the youth center he opened.
Foreman fought until he was 48. He finished with a 76-5 record and 68 knockouts. In 1997, after he lost a decision to Shannon Briggs in his final fight, he wore sunglasses during an interview afterward with Larry Merchant and lifted his shirt.
“Well, Larry, I want you to see something,” he said. “That’s about eight weeks I spent on that George Foreman lean, mean, fat-reducing grilling machine.”
When Merchant tried to redirect him, Foreman pleaded, “I’m just trying to sell my grill, Larry.”
The decision was controversial, as so many are in boxing, but Foreman declared Briggs the winner and refused to complain.
“I’m almost 50 years old, and that young man had to suck it up, and it took everything he had just to stay in there with me,” Foreman said. “I’m proud of myself, and it’s showing the world that the age 50 is not a death sentence for an athlete. You can pursue excellence as long as you want, not when people say it.”
In all phases of his life, Foreman pursued excellence for as long as he wanted. He exuded a kindness that helped you tolerate the unapologetic salesman in him. He had many reasons to close himself off, but he remained open. His life became richer because he was willing to show all his dimensions instead of remaining bitter when the nation disliked his first impression.
He didn’t just lose to Ali. He learned from him. To endure in this world, you can neither stay the same forever nor allow hardship to erase your humanity. Because his initial triumphs weren’t celebrated, Foreman let his grievances and prejudices control him. When failure humbled him, he wanted to submit to shame. Then he found joy in the one thing he could control: his own growth.
Today, we mourn many George Foremans, and I’m not talking about the five sons he named after himself. We mourn each fascinating piece of a man who resonated with us for different reasons. Put our perspectives together, and we can see Foreman in full, smiling, celebrating, waving that flag without remorse.