Remembering George Foreman

A long bus and subway Friday past and a passenger (to the driver) cites George Foreman (news he was gone, too soon at age 76, had come to me just before boarding), winning some form of a boxing title, late and well into his entrepreneur days.

Yet and of course to me, George, with the also cited many offspring named such, was the seemingly indestructible heavyweight champion, who took the title more than convincingly, from another great, Joe Frazier, (styles make fights and slugger Foreman was too much for the always “at you” Frazier) in January 1973, on a Monday night that L.B. Johnson died.

It took “The Greatest,” certainly one of them, Muhammad Ali, to take away the crown, just before the African rains fell on a morning in Zaire.

Foreman, I think so cool as a “bad guy,” with his big dog, as depicted in “When We Were Kings,” about Ali/Foreman in 1974, became a good guy, more than accepted as a pitch man and stayed that way.

George Foreman was one of the greats and maybe just maybe, as I write/type this early morning he, Ali, Joe Frazier and others are meeting and reminiscing in a better place.

It was ok to sell grills and George Foreman, pictured above was good as “good,” however beyond cool as “bad,” in younger days a