GEORGE FOREMAN (1949–2025): THE GENTLE GIANT WHO TAUGHT US TO FIGHT WITH KINDNESS
By Emmanuel Rivera, RRT PhilBoxing.com Sat, 22 Mar 2025
George Foreman, Painting by Jun Aquino. Today, we bow our heads for a man whose presence once filled arenas and whose kindness filled hearts. George Edward Foreman, “Big George” to the world and a quiet source of strength to many, passed away on March 21, 2025, at the age of 76. The bell has tolled, but the echo of his life will ring on— inside gyms, churches, homes, and every corner of the world where redemption still matters.
He was born on January 10, 1949, in Marshall, Texas, and raised on the tough streets of Houston. George’s early life was no fairy tale— he ran through the cracks like many kids do, fighting in the streets, dodging trouble, never far from it. But then came boxing. Or maybe, salvation disguised as a left hook.
In 1968, George stood on the Olympic podium with gold around his neck and a small American flag in his glove. Five years later, he steamrolled Joe Frazier to become heavyweight champion of the world. They called him “Big George” for good reason— he was all power, presence, and pressure. A destroyer in the ring. Until the day he met someone just as divine, Muhammad Ali.
The Rumble in the Jungle in 1974 wasn’t just a title fight— it was a turning point. George lost his belt that night in Zaire. But he found something far greater in the years that followed…humility, purpose, and grace.
He walked away from boxing and walked into faith. Became a born-again Christian and started preaching at the Church of the Lord Jesus Christ in Houston. He opened the George Foreman Youth Center. He helped kids who were lost in the same streets he once fought through.
But boxing wasn’t done with George. And George wasn’t done with boxing.
In the early ’90s, he returned. Slower. Softer. Smiling. The world laughed. But in 1994, at the age of 45, George Foreman knocked out Michael Moorer and became the oldest heavyweight champion in history.
He didn’t roar. He just bowed his head and thanked God.
I met Mr. George Foreman twice in my life. And I carry both moments like keepsakes.
The first time was in 1990. My father brought me to the old Star Boxing Gym in San Jose. George was training there during his comeback. Before I could shake his hand, my father introduced me to Mr. Sandy Saddler who was with Love Allotey. Both were legends who each fought the great Gabriel “Flash” Elorde. Saddler was one of the old masters helping George prepare. After a short exchange, Saddler turned to my Dad, winked and nodded.
“There’s someone you should meet.”
Then George came through the gym doors. No entourage. No spotlight. Just George.
He reached out, shook my hand, and smiled. That handshake nearly swallowed my 118-pound frame. No big conversation. Just a simple moment, firm grip, and a presence you didn’t forget.
The second meeting came full circle on March 12, 2023, at the Millennium Biltmore Hotel in Los Angeles. George was being honored at the West Coast Boxing Hall of Fame. I was seated with Robert Lyons, CEO of Star Flite International, painter Carl Roberts, and singer Helena Buscema— friends, fans, and family in spirit.
That afternoon, a short film about his life played on screen. Then George took the stage.
He thanked his family, the organizers— Rick Farris and Dan Hanley— and everyone who kept boxing’s memory alive. He followed Motown founder Berry Gordy, who had just accepted his own award.
George adjusted the mic, grinned, and said:
“When I was up and coming, I credit a song that went like this: ‘I’ll beat him to the punch.’ Had some success because of the song but the problem later was, I think Muhammad Ali was listening to the same song.”
The crowd broke into laughter. Only George could turn Rumble in the Jungle in Zaire into a punchline. He carried loss with lightness. He turned defeat into joy. That was the man we stood up for. All 600 of us.
(L-R) George Foreman, one aspiring writer, and Robert Lyons.
After the event, George was on his way out— mask on, moving slow. Most would’ve let him pass undisturbed. But when he saw our table— with paintings by renowned Filipino painter Jun Aquino of Manny Pacquiao and Ceferino Garcia— he stopped.
He removed his mask, smiled, and gave me a fist bump.
“Muhammad Ali and George Frazier gave us the ‘Thrilla in Manila’,” he said. “It was an unforgettable fight. Salamat and best regards to the Filipino people. And please tell Manny Pacquiao I admire him and his skills. And yes, young man— nice speech.”
I didn’t think he’d notice I spoke for 3-minutes inducting the great Manny Pacquiao beforehand.
All I could say was, “Mr. Foreman, thank you for the song, the fights, and the memories.”
He nodded again. That same smile. That same presence.
George Foreman’s story never fit the mold. He walked away from the ring and found his purpose in pulpits and youth centers. Then he returned and did what no one thought possible. Then he reinvented himself again.
He became a global icon— not just for what he did, but how he did it.
The George Foreman Grill? A side note to some. But not to the families who used it, the children it helped feed, the generations it reached. Over 100 million sold— and still, George never changed.
He raised ten children— five of them named George. He wore his faith like armor and never forgot who he was. He didn’t just age. He grew deeper, wiser, and funnier.
To the Filipino people, he gave admiration. To Manny Pacquiao, he gave respect. And to us, at that small table on that unforgettable evening, he gave time.
(L-R) George Foreman and Rick Farris
Rick Farris and Dan Hanley hosted a beautiful celebration that afternoon. But George made it unforgettable. Not because of what he won— but because of how he made us feel.
Now, as the final bell sounds, and the lights dim over a remarkable life, we don’t just remember the fighter. We remember the man.
(L-R) Keana Rivera, Grant Rivera and George Foreman
Thank you, Sir George Foreman, for reminding us that kindness is strength.
