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- <text id=89TT1928>
- <title>
- July 24, 1989: American Scene
- </title>
- <history>
- TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1989
- July 24, 1989 Fateful Voyage:The Exxon Valdez
- </history>
- <article>
- <source>Time Magazine</source>
- <hdr>
- AMERICAN SCENE, Page 8
- Houston, Texas
- A Slugger and A Dream
- </hdr><body>
- <p>Experts say George Foreman has a fat chance at best of
- regaining boxing's heavyweight crown. He thinks otherwise
- </p>
- <p>By Richard Woodbury
- </p>
- <p> At 7:30 on a muggy Houston morning, George Foreman, the
- heavyweight boxing champion of 15 years ago, is bundled in a
- military shirt and heavy work pants, plodding up and down a
- freeway embankment in the piney woods near his home. Foreman
- isn't just climbing the steep hill. He is maneuvering up it
- backward -- up and back, up and back -- a modern-day Sisyphus,
- sweating and straining in the heavy grass. As he moves, the old
- fighter hurls jabs and uppercuts at the blazing sun with his
- prodigious arms.
- </p>
- <p> Strange as the sight might seem, Foreman's goal is even
- odder. At the age of 40, after a full ten years layoff from the
- ring and about 40 lbs. over his best fighting weight, the
- slugger is in training once again. His objective -- some call
- it an obsession -- is to recapture the heavyweight title he lost
- by a knockout to Muhammad Ali in 1974. Exclaims the ex-champ:
- "I'm ready, and I'm better than I ever was."
- </p>
- <p> Can Foreman be serious? What kind of odds would Vegas put
- on him against Iron Mike Tyson, the current titleholder? Boxing
- does not take kindly to reruns by its geriatric set. Witness Joe
- Louis, Joe Frazier, Larry Holmes and Ali. Foreman, the boxer
- turned preacher, is older than the other ex-champs who tried in
- vain to return. Some of them embarrassed themselves. Some of
- them got flattened. Boxing experts snicker that there are only
- two kinds of opponents Foreman can be counted on to defeat. One
- kind is hooked up to a respirator. The other can be found lying
- on a sesame-seed bun in the company of pickles and catsup.
- </p>
- <p> None of this bothers Foreman, who KO'd 42 opponents in
- compiling a 45-2 record. He is all vigor and determination
- these summer days, slugging at the bags and straining on the
- iron. This is a new Foreman, he is quick to advise: "Forty is
- no death sentence; age is only a problem if you make it one."
- He looks as menacing as he did that night in 1973 when he
- blockbusted Joe Frazier clear off the canvas to win the title.
- His 19-in. biceps bulge with muscle, his thighs are thick as
- saplings, his huge 48-in. chest heaves with power. He also has
- the beginnings of a paunch. Explains Foreman: "The secret to my
- winning is my eating." By which he means that he has been reborn
- at the dinner table too. The Big Macs have been replaced by
- broiled mackerel. For breakfast, the slugger still puts away a
- dozen eggs, but first he excises the yolks.
- </p>
- <p> In 18 fights since he launched his comeback two years ago,
- Foreman has knocked out every foe, leading him to crow, "I've
- proved myself. I deserve a chance at Tyson. He can't say he's
- the best as long as a 40-year-old man not from Mars is sitting
- out here. He can't whup me." Foreman rambles on, branding Tyson
- a "sneaky crybaby" and insisting, "My biggest job will be
- catching him."
- </p>
- <p> Listening to this, a thought springs to mind: Is the old
- slugger punch-drunk? This, after all, is the same George
- Foreman who found religion in a San Juan, Puerto Rico, dressing
- room in 1977, proclaimed boxing an affront to God and announced
- he was quitting forever. This is the same Foreman who ballooned
- to 320 lbs. from a fighting trim of 217, and even today at 255
- is far beefier than anyone who wants to hold the title should
- be. As for the recent wins, all were against unknowns or
- retreads who will probably never get within spitting distance
- of the Top Ten contenders.
- </p>
- <p> But Foreman keeps mowing them down. At Pride Pavillion in
- Phoenix last month, Slab-of-Meat No. 18, a cruiserweight named
- Bert Cooper, was served up. A Joe Frazier protege, Cooper was
- billed as one of Foreman's toughest challenges yet. Midway in
- the first round, the ex-champ caught him with a right to the
- middle that pirouetted Cooper 90 degrees. The pummeling got
- worse. When the bell rang for Round 3, Cooper sagely refused to
- come out.
- </p>
- <p> "Tyson's next," Foreman bellowed, arms outstretched, to the
- crowd. Every old man in the dim arena choked at the visage in
- the crimson robe -- a middle-aged Rocky in their midst. Around
- the stands signs shot up, echoing TYSON'S NEXT. In the dressing
- room Foreman chortled, "Cooper tried to run, but the ring was
- too small. They're all thinking, `What's George going to do to
- me?'"
- </p>
- <p> These mismatches keep the adrenaline flowing and the
- nostalgia and hopes burning for a flock of Foreman camp
- followers. Archie Moore, who the record books say is 75, was
- light-heavyweight champ until he was at least 48. Now Moore has
- signed on as resident guru and gerontologist. "Ah, the wisdom
- and cunning of age," Moore muses. "Make the young man take three
- steps to your one. Smotin' power, that's what it comes down to.
- George can still smote, oh yes he can." Moore also knows
- something about losing weight. Eat all you like, he once
- suggested, just don't swallow.
- </p>
- <p> In the bar of a Phoenix hotel, a gaggle of aging boxing
- groupies watch the hulk as he works out. Foreman is like the
- dynamo of old, steadily pounding home sledgehammer blows. Five
- rounds later and barely sweating, he halts to regale the
- faithful. "I should be carrying a cane," he jests. "My training
- camp is Baskin-Robbins. But if Tyson wins, it's only
- Lamborghinis and big houses for himself. Means nothing. If I
- win, every man over 40 can grab his Geritol and have a toast."
- </p>
- <p> What is atop the summit if Foreman manages to conquer it
- again? Money? "A lot of it," Foreman acknowledges. Not for
- lavish houses in California, or Mercedes and Corvettes. Foreman
- has had those. "For the kids," he explains. "I want to give them
- the same shot I had." The ninth-grade dropout got his rebirth
- in the Job Corps. Since 1984, he's dispensed his own good deeds
- at the George Foreman Youth and Community Center on Houston's
- north side. The small gym with its boxing ring and exercise gear
- is an after-school haven for 400 youths, some of them too poor
- to afford the $10-a-year dues.
- </p>
- <p> But there must be something else driving a man to run ten
- miles a day in the Texas heat, fight in backwater towns and
- suffer reporters' ridicule. Perhaps it is the memories, some to
- be relished, others to be expunged: the glory of Jamaica, where
- he hammered Smokin' Joe for the title in '73. Then, the next
- year, the nightmare of Africa at 4 in the morning, and the
- specter of Ali in the ropes, taunting him with a whisper, "Is
- that all you got, George?" before knocking him out in the
- eighth. Says his friend Norm Henry, a California fight promoter:
- "He looks at Tyson, and he sees Frazier all over again."
- </p>
- <p> Down the road from the youth center is the tiny Church of
- the Lord Jesus Christ, which evangelist Foreman helped found
- nine years ago. With the fighter on the trumpet and cymbals,
- Sunday services are rarely dull. His sermons sometimes seem
- directed at himself. "Once you fall, you ain't comin back," he
- advised the flock recently. "Make noise in a strange fashion,
- or God may not notice you."
- </p>
- <p> The only noise that Foreman is eager for is the telephone,
- ringing with Tyson's call. "We keep on winning, and that phone
- will ring," assures Foreman's brother Roy, his manager. "One
- day Tyson'll have to come to us." Until that happens, the old
- slugger is content enough dreaming his dream. "Champeen of the
- world," he beams. "Champeen. Great stuff there."
- </p>
-
- </body></article>
- </text>
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