Doug Krikorian
The death of George Foreman revives a memorable evening in my life that came in January of 1987 during dinner at the acclaimed Las Vegas restaurant, Michael's, with a group that included the late sports columnist Allan Malamud, the famous boxing PR figure, Bill (Bozo) Caplan, and the venerable fight promoter Don Chargin.
It was of course Caplan who invited Foreman to the culinary gathering since he had a close relationship with him since 1967 when he saw the 18-year-old Foreman lose his first amateur fight at the old Oakland Arena after a 14-0 start and was the only person present in the locker room afterwards to console him.
And on that long ago evening at Michael's, which then was located at the long-gone but not forgotten Barbary Coast and is now located at the South Point Hotel, George Foreman made a startling announcement.
``I'm returning to the ring,'' said the former heavyweight champion who hadn't fought for almost 10 years---March 17, 1977, to be exact---and who had just turned 37 and who seemed at least 50 pounds away from being in shape.
I was aghast.
``Don't do it!'' I immediately blurted out as others at the table nodded in agreement accept the loyal Caplan. ``Think Joe Louis when he fought Rocky Marciano. Think of the many fighters who tried painfully unsuccessful comebacks. You haven't fought for 10 years. And you're not close to being in shape.''
``For the past couple of months, I've been running a lot, and I'm in better shape than you think,'' he responded calmly. ``I'm even going to get up early tomorrow and run.''
Since I was a jogger, I immediately said, ``I'll run with you.''
And so the next day, George Foreman and I jogged for an hour and a half around the streets and boulevards of Las Vegas, and I spent a good portion of the journey trying to dissuade him from returning to his violent sport.
That morning we would have breakfast at a crowded MGM restaurant---the hotel's then sports book director Jimmy Vaccaro rescued us from having a lengthy wait----and nary a person sought George Foreman's autograph or even recognized the man who once was the most feared boxer in the world with savage knockouts of Joe Frazier, Ken Norton and many others before his loss to Ali in Zaire.
Oh, how that would change in upcoming years, as George Foreman would make a mockery out of naysayers like me, would turn what most observers thought at the beginning as a clown show against inept opponents not to be taken seriously to an historic fistic climax on the evening of November 11, 1994 when one powerful right hand from the then 45-year-old Foreman on the jaw of Michael Moore would result in him regaining his heavyweight title after losing it 20 years earlier..
His fame became widespread after that iconic achievement, and it would be that year when got into a venture---TV pitchman for the George Foreman Grill---that resulted in his popularity and bank account ascending to staggering heights.
At the peak of the Foreman Grill sales, he was earning $4.5 million a month for being paid 40 percent on each unit sold, and in 1999 he sold his name rights for $138 million.
``George became a very, very rich man,'' says Bill Caplan, whose 58-year friendship with George Foreman, an ordained minister, has been so enduring that Foreman flew out to Southern California from his native Houston to officiate marriages of three Caplan family members. ``And what a lot of people don't know about George is that he donated millions of dollars to many worthy causes over the years. He was an active philanthropist.''
What I know about George Foreman is that when we crossed paths later---we jogged together twice more in Las Vegas---he never even mildly chided me for my misguided advice against his pursuing what would become the greatest career comeback in the annals of all sports.