FIGHTING SPIRIT : Why on Earth Is George Foreman Coming Back? Well, to Pay Off a Few Taxes--and Leave a Legacy

To Michi Foreman, who is 14, George Foreman has never been George Foreman.

He’s always been Daddy.

And so you can imagine the reaction on a morning in November, 1986, when Big Daddy Foreman, all 320 pounds of him, suddenly blurted out at the breakfast table: “I’m going back into boxing.”

Michi and Foreman’s wife, Mary, both thought it was a bad joke.

It wasn’t a joke, of course. Everyone in the Foreman family understands that now. And if others in boxing still think it’s a joke, it’s not nearly as funny as it was 13 months and 25 pounds ago, when Foreman, who turned 40 last month, stepped into a Sacramento ring. It was eight days short of 10 years since his last fight.

At first, everyone had a good laugh, when he showed up to battle the dreaded Steve Zouski. And the laughter grew louder when he took his robe off. He weighed 267 1/2 pounds and his belly drooped over his shorts.

Folks wondered: George, why are you doing this?

Since then, the belly is still soft but the contour is more favorable. His weight is down into the 240s, and he’s won seven straight bouts against very ordinary opponents. And the laughter is beginning to subside.

Actually, since the beginning of this improbable comeback, the only man Foreman really had to impress was Las Vegas promoter Bob Arum, who is now convinced Foreman is serious about a 1989 title fight with heavyweight champion Mike Tyson.

Accordingly, Arum has locked up promotional rights to Foreman’s immediate future. Arum is close to agreement with Foreman and his adviser, Ron Weathers, on a contract whereby Foreman will earn $100,000 for a March 19 bout, possibly against Dwight Muhammad Qawi, and more six-figure purses for bouts against top 10-ranked heavyweights.

Foreman must continue to win, or the proposed contract is voided.

You’ll note that all of Foreman’s comeback opponents are short.

“George told us he’s preparing to fight a short guy (Tyson), so he wants to fight short guys,” said Bruce Trampler, matchmaker for Arum.

If a title fight develops with, presumably, Tyson, Foreman would be guaranteed a minimum $3 million, and, if he wins, $7 million for a first defense.

So if you still think it’s a bad idea for George Foreman to make a comeback at 40, then he thinks you must be some kind of Communist. More on that later.

OK, so all this is an improbable scenario, one a screenwriter would have trouble selling. But, in the meantime, it is not illegal for George Foreman to dream.

It’s 10 o’clock on a weeknight, and George Foreman is seated in the sports book of the Frontier Hotel in Las Vegas, being interviewed live on a sports radio show.

“George,” the interviewer asks, “if you pull this off, you’ll not only be the oldest heavyweight champion, you’ll be the only fighter to come all the way back after 10 years. What’s it all about?”

Foreman: “Well, I got a piece of property (a 200-acre ranch) down in Texas that’s eatin’ me alive with taxes, and I want to build some more George Foreman Youth Centers in Houston.”

Gamblers, who have noticed the radio show setup, begin to drift into the sports book, from the slot machines. Some recognize Foreman and sit down to listen.

Interviewer: “George, take us back to that night in 1973, in Jamaica, when you knocked out Joe Frazier to win the title.”

Foreman: “That night was one of the great acting jobs of my life. I was scared that night, and for me to have gotten in there and pretended like I wasn’t . . . that was a real performance. I’d hoped that by that stage of my career, Frazier would have retired and gone into the music business.

“I’d studied film of Joe Frazier. I knew that when you hit him in the face, he liked it . . . and that it made him angry if you missed. Well, I got to him early that night and had it all my way. But let me tell you, early in the first round, he missed me with one left hook that sounded like a bullet going by my chin.”

Interviewer: “George, that had to be the highlight of your career, that night.”

Foreman: “No, the highlight of my career was winning the Olympic gold medal, in 1968. That meant more to me. See, just a few years before that, I was a kid, a mugger, on the streets of Houston, robbing people.

“In those days, my ambition in life was to serve a prison sentence, and return in triumph to my old neighborhood, and reclaim it. I also wanted a long scar running down the side of my face.

“One night I found myself under a house, hiding from police dogs. I decided maybe I better start planning a better life. I wound up in the Job Corps, and got involved in sports.

“Then one night I found myself in a boxing ring in Mexico City, and they’re playin’ the national anthem for me. I never got over that feeling, that I could do that. That’s what this comeback is all about. I want to have some facilities where I can teach kids that if you’re an American, you got a chance.”

Bob Arum, the promoter, finds himself between blockbusters. It’s after Hagler-Leonard, which grossed $75 million, and before Hagler-Hearns II, which may never happen. Hagler is preoccupied with divorce troubles. And so Arum has time these days to dream, along with George Foreman.

“Foreman came to me awhile back, we talked about what he was trying to do,” he said. “I told him I wanted to see him fight himself into shape, to lose a lot of weight . . . and he’s done all that. Now, I’m not trying to kid anyone--George Foreman is 40, and he’s ponderously slow. But he’s always been slow.

“So we’re still watching. We’ll match him with increasingly tougher fighters to see if he’d have any realistic chance against Tyson.

“Remember one thing about George Foreman--shorter, aggressive heavyweights are made to order for him. Joe Frazier was like that, and look what George did to him. Of course, that was 1973. We’ll just keep watching.”

Arum makes the point that Foreman could become the first man to fight for the heavyweight title for charity.

“He wants a big payday or two to build some George Foreman Youth Centers, and he doesn’t want to borrow the money,” he said.

“He salted away some money . . . he has a substantial income. He’s a committed guy.”

In the interview tent after his TKO win in Las Vegas over Italian Guido Trane, a reporter asked: “George, the WBC (World Boxing Council) is considering a rule that would ban boxers over the age of 35. How do you feel about that?”

Responded Foreman: “That sounds like communism to me.”

Arum, who is a lawyer, was standing next to Foreman.

“That is unconstitutional--it violates every law relating to age and sex discrimination,” Arum said. “If the WBC needs a lawyer to inform them of that, tell them to talk to me.”

Robert Lord, Foreman’s Houston attorney, also said Foreman’s income from invested money earned in the 1970s ($5 million alone from the 1974 loss to Muhammad Ali in Zaire) is in the low six figures.

“George lived pretty high when he had a big income, but once he retired, he cut loose the big cars, the big expenses,” said Lord, who has been a friend of Foreman’s since his championship years.

“He lives modestly. He has a modest three-bedroom house, a pickup truck, a van and he bought a baby Mercedes for his wife. And he’s very serious about the George Foreman Youth Centers. He’s thinking in terms of maybe one day having them all over the country.”

Jim Jacobs, who co-manages Tyson with Bill Cayton, said that Tyson’s calendar is nearly filled through 1988. If Foreman defeated and otherwise looked good against two rated heavyweights, he said, a 1989 Tyson-Foreman title fight would be considered.

“So far, the people Foreman has beaten are zeros,” Jacobs said. “But if he were to step up in class and defeat two ranked fighters, like, let’s say, Pinklon Thomas and Trevor Berbick, then we would possibly reconsider. But really, right now, you can’t rank George Foreman in the top 5,000.”

Foreman showed a flare of temper when told of Jacobs’ remarks.

“Well, they brought Larry Holmes back to fight Tyson after a 26-month layoff with no warmup fights. And the public bought that, right? Well, I’m working myself into boxing shape, I’ve had six (now seven) fights. I’ve fought more than Tyson has in the last year.

“I’m taking a low-profile road. Things can happen overnight in boxing. When Tyson’s people decide I’m as worthy a contender as anyone else around, my phone will ring.”

Over breakfast in Las Vegas, on the day before his seventh comeback win, Foreman talked about his George Foreman Youth Center on Loan Oak Street in Houston and why he wants more of them.

“Around 1984 and ’85 I went into debt with some of my invested money, building the Lone Oak Street facility,” he said. “But it’s only made me want to do more, with kids.

“Once you start helping people, and you see with your own eyes that you’ve changed a few lives . . . well, it’s like you’ve found a drive within yourself that you didn’t know you had, that nothing can stop you. Just in the last couple of months, I’ve seen things like a father and son talkin’ to each other again, and a mother thankin’ me for helping to straighten out her son who I took off the streets and put in my youth center.”

On the day after he lost to Muhammad Ali, it was George Foreman who needed help. It’s been 13 years since Foreman, a 3-1 favorite, lost the heavyweight championship.

“Ali was the first opponent I’d ever faced who had the same desire to win as I did,” Foreman said. “I tried to knock him out early, I got tired, and he caught me in an awkward position (in the eighth round), and he put me down with a one-two. I wasn’t hurt, but when I got up, the fight was over.”

When Foreman recalled the agony of the morning after, the old pain returned for a moment.

“The next morning, I was devastated,” he said. “I couldn’t understand how in the world someone could knock me down and take from me something that I had worked so hard to get and keep.”

In a 1984 interview, Foreman told The Times: “I remember in the second round, I hit Ali with the hardest combination I ever hit anyone with. And he just looked at me as if to say, ‘No way.’ I knew then I couldn’t knock him out. He’d weathered the storm, and we both knew it.”

Foreman, nearly twice Mike Tyson’s age, admires the 21-year-old champion.

“My hat’s off to him,” he said. “I like him. When you consider that most 21 year olds in this country have no idea what they want to do with their lives, here’s a guy who’s on top of his profession. He’s on top of the world.

“But if he ever fights me, you can bet he won’t fight me like he’s fought everyone else. See, he’s a short, aggressive guy, like Frazier. Joe Frazier tried to walk in on me, tried to come inside and fight me . . . and that was the end of Joe Frazier.

“No one walks in on George Foreman.”

But Foreman, it turns out, is no expert on how Mike Tyson fights. Or anyone else, for that matter.

Says his adviser, Ron Weathers: “We’ve got a problem with George, in terms of talking about future opponents. He hasn’t had a TV in his house in 10 years. He’s never seen any of these guys. He’s seen one Tyson fight, the Berbick fight, and that was over a year ago. We have an urgent need to accumulate a video library.”

During Foreman’s last sparring session in the Caesars Palace Pavilion before his win over Trane, you couldn’t help but notice the crinkly, wise face and the white whiskers under the woven African cap. The older Archie Moore gets, the smarter he looks.

When Foreman launched his comeback, the call went out again to the Mongoose. When Foreman destroyed Frazier in Jamaica, Moore was in his corner. It was Moore who advised Foreman to show up 40 minutes late to the Frazier-Foreman weigh-in, infuriating Frazier.

Not much has changed in heavyweight boxing, Moore says.

“The guy who beats Tyson is going to have to be a strong guy,” Moore said, grimacing and moving his arms around in front of him, as if he were wrestling a bear.

“When Foreman beat Frazier, he was the strongest guy in boxing, and he’s still the strongest guy in boxing. How many heavyweights you seen who can put their hands on the shoulders of an opponent and back him up a step with just a shove? Even today, George could throw Hulk Hogan around.

“Now days, George is a smarter fighter, too. We’ve got him fighting at a slower, measured pace.”

As Foreman puts it: “The George Foreman of 1988 would beat the George Foreman of 1973.”

Gil Clancy, the NBC boxing commentator who was Foreman’s trainer for his last fight, the 1977 loss to Jimmy Young, is happy to hear Foreman is finally listening to somebody.

“George was very difficult to train in those days,” Clancy said.

“The Young fight was in Puerto Rico, and we wanted George there three weeks before the fight. He came in eight days before. He wasn’t easy to deal with then. At that stage of his career, he had his own ideas on how to prepare.

“I thought he looked pretty formidable against Sekorski (Rocky Sekorski, a December opponent), a little less so against Trane. He’s taken off a lot of weight and he had to work hard to do that.

“George was a big hitter, but more of a clubber, not the kind of puncher who took you out with one punch, like Louis, Marciano or Frazier. But as a pure power hitter, you have to rank him right up there with the best of them, and he can still hit.”

The images remain: George Foreman, at 25, with the kind of tapered upper body illustrators used to draw for those Charles Atlas ads.

And could he hit.

Tapes of his 1970s fights bring back the huge right-hand punches that followed Foreman’s long left jabs. If you managed to avoid those then you had to deal with the terrifying uppercuts, the kind that lifted Joe Frazier off his feet.

Columnist Jim Murray, when describing Foreman’s uppercuts, likes to say: “Foreman knocked Frazier up into the ring lights.”

And always, there was the threat of the left hook to the body that broke ribs, and the pile-driver jab that broke hearts.

There is Foreman, a young Hercules, performing one of the sport’s indelible upsets of the 1970s, the 1973 savage beating of Joe Frazier, thought at the time to be invincible. In five minutes, Foreman turned Frazier’s fearsome scowl into a face of fear.

Foreman knocked Frazier down six times and won the heavyweight championship that night in Kingston, Jamaica.

But in the years he was knocking out Frazier (twice), Ron Lyle, Ken Norton, George Chuvalo and the rest, Foreman was a flawed slugger. He tried too hard. He fought with a rage, not with patience or cunning. Against all but one opponent, it worked.

“I always tried too hard to knock people out, because it’s what was expected of me,” he said in the radio interview. “I threw so many punches, sometimes I’d hit guys after they’d gone down. I mean, punches were on their way and I couldn’t call ‘em back.”

There was no rematch with Ali. Instead, there was the final, ignominious decision loss to Jimmy Young, in 1977. After that fight, Foreman claimed to have had a religious experience in his dressing room.

He retired from boxing and moved to his 200-acre cattle ranch, 200 miles northeast of Houston. He also became, and still is, pastor of a small Houston church. In recent years, he’s earned, in addition to income from his invested money, a separate income from speaking engagements, which he’s put into his George Foreman Youth Center.

Foreman is the first to admit that his opponents so far will never make the hall of fame. He says his toughest fight was with Michi, his daughter, and his mother.

“Michi was worried a lot about my boxing, because she’d never been exposed to that,” Foreman said. “She was born a week before I beat Frazier. Well, about three months into my training, I invited her to the gym to see me work out. It was a day I’d picked to work on my defense, so I was lettin’ guys hit me.

“She went home and said to my mother, who lives with us, ‘Grandma, Daddy’s letting these men him him and he won’t hit ‘em back.’

“So then my mother got upset. She’d never had a anything to say about my boxing career, even years ago. So she said to me: ‘Now George, I’ve never told you what to do in boxing, but if someone is hitting you, you hit ‘em back!’ ”