For Foreman, Holyfield a Meal Ticket

ATLANTIC CITY, N.J. —  Who says there’s no free lunch? Big George Foreman gets one every day -- plus breakfast, dinner and between-meal snacks. Bedtime too. Every meal is on the house until Friday night, when he’ll have to put down the knife and fork -- briefly, he insists -- and try to regain the heavyweight title he lost to Muhammad Ali 17 years ago in Zaire.

Who started the rumor Foreman has trimmed to a svelte 240 pounds? He must not have seen all of Big George. Foreman may not be the 315 he once was, but he admits to 265.

“I’m going to skip breakfast on Friday and come in at 250,” he said. “I’m going to be 250 to 257.”

There’s no getting around Foreman’s girth. Take, for instance, the big “George Foreman Buffet Special” signs (George, a red napkin hung from his collar, sits behind a pitcher’s mound of food), and the taped voice of the overshadowed champion Evander Holyfield vowing repeatedly over the casino speakers that Foreman’s last meal of the week will be on him: “I’m going to knock him out. I want to take him out to dinner. You can bet that will last a lot longer than the fight.”

Foreman’s a sly one, though. Three weeks ago he called up Angelo Dundee and made a deal. Dundee, who trained Ali, will be in Foreman’s corner, reliving an era. Foreman made the decision in Atlanta during this fight’s promotional tour -- over dinner.

Foreman was Big George even in his salad days, but it took him years to get this big. Which brings up the second huge part of this hype of the ages.

When Foreman won the title, the current champ was 10. Now 42, Foreman says, “You’re never too old to do what you want if you’re fat enough.”

This is how old Foreman is: Ali and Joe Frazier were celebrating the 20th anniversary of their March 8, 1971, “fight of the century” over the weekend in Philadelphia. Foreman fought them both, beating Frazier twice. Foreman fought when he had a build as firm as Holyfield’s. Foreman fought when he had hair.

“I got my first spankin’ in the ‘40s,” Foreman said while putting on gloves. “I started spankin’ back in the ‘50s. I even got a gold medal in the ‘60s. In the ‘70s, I got the heavyweight title belt. In the ‘80s, I made the sportwriters scratch their heads. And, believe me, I am the fighter of the ‘90s.”

Foreman made this pronouncement to a ballroom audience about to watch his first workout here. Foreman, believe it, is the only boxer to keep up a commentary with his fans during his work, interrupt himself to introduce his entire entourage -- which includes the eternal “Old Mongoose” Archie Moore -- and welcome all questions (not that there are too many straight answers). Foreman is the master of ceremonies. “Let’s have a round of applause for ... “

He even talks with his mouth full. This, incredibly, is when he’s sparring, although it’s impossible to understand him with a headgear on that covers his face and a mouthpiece in place (that also prevents between-rounds snacking).

Holyfield-Foreman is a long way from Ali-Frazier. Nor is it the sweet science as recorded by A. J. Liebling. P.T. Barnum would recognize it. Bob Arum, as Foreman’s promoter, is involved. Arum promoted Evel Knievel against the Snake River Canyon in 1974. In that one, the parachute on the tail end of Knievel’s little homemade rocket flew open on takeoff. Not when Knievel was safely on the other side of the chasm, but on takeoff! This, of course, made a quick winner of the canyon.

Foreman could crash almost as quickly. But a lot of people must believe he won’t, enough that about 15,000 or more Convention Center seats may be sold and a record 1.75 million pay-per-view homes are being projected. They’re buying Foreman at his word: “You’re never too old.”

(Optional Add End)

Foreman even has aged considerably since he began his comeback after laying off an entire decade. It’s taken him four years to get this improbable title shot.

If anything, he’s gotten slower. In his last fight, he knocked out one Terry Anderson in the first round in London, but not before it was clear, at least to one British writer, that his punches could have been painted in oils before they landed.

Of course, Foreman has a puncher’s possibility. Adilson Rodrigues claimed his arms felt paralyzed from Foreman’s first-round pounding, and he couldn’t get his hands up to save himself from being knocked out in the second round.

Rodrigues was the only ranked fighter among Foreman’s 24 comeback victories, 23 by knockout. Most of the others almost no one has ever heard of: Steve Zouski, Tom Trimm, Guido Trane, Manual Clay De Almeida et al. “I hit ‘em,” Foreman said, “and then I couldn’t find ‘em.” He didn’t look at his feet?

Foreman’s comeback has had its dubious promotions. Foreman-Gerry Cooney was billed as “The Preacher and the Puncher,” but Foreman turned out to be both.

When Foreman was supposed to fight another large but obscure gentleman, posters were made up for “The Battle of the Giants.” But the fight fell through, and the posters didn’t quite work when Foreman took on the very, very short Dwight Muhammad Qawi, who was old himself by then and almost literally hammered into the canvas.

For months, Foreman has hyped this fight in almost every way except to arrive in Atlantic City on a senior citizens’ tour bus. He works to the over-40 crowd like a cafe comedian.

Sometimes he’s as fast-talking as Ali used to be. Other times Foreman draws out the words, stretches out his arms like the preacher he is back in Houston. He preached as recently as Wednesday night as pastor of his non-denominational Church of the Lord Jesus Christ. His fitting theme: the “possibilities” in life.

Now he was telling his Atlantic City flock: “I want to be the only guy to stand out by my mailbox waiting for a championship belt that won’t fit and a Social Security check at the same time. I’m closer to 50 than I am 20, and I’m happy about it.”

And: “You know, you go into these neighborhoods, and you see all these kids walking down the street with head rags on and senior citizens runnin’ and hidin’ from ‘em. Well, when I knock Evander Holyfield out, you’re going to see senior citizens with head rags on walkin’ down the street and teen-agers hidin’ in the bushes sayin’, ‘What in the world’s goin’ on?’ ”

With that, Foreman sparred 10 rounds, pounding five boxers, who each took two rounds. The only one to hit the canvas, however, was Foreman himself, who slipped and missed and landed in a backward heap. “Help,” he cried out. An aide hopped in to help him up, but Foreman waved him off with a “You can’t pick me up.”

What he’d done mostly was fend off blows with his big forearms, his basketball-sized head ducked like a turtle’s. Pressing forward, like a mountain slowly moving before your eyes, he’d eventually trap each foe, pound him, then pat him.

(Georgie Benton, Holyfield’s co-trainer, said Friday, “Old George learned a lot with Archie. He got that crab-like defense.”)

Foreman told the onlookers, “The most important thing is, I’m doing what I want to do. People say: ‘George, how can you try to be a boxer?’ I say (here he sounds very much like a preacher, drawing out the words, letting each syllable roll off his tongue for full impact) ‘What is life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness if you don’t take advantage of it?’ Is that right?”

Followed by a chorus of “Right. ... Amen. ... Yeah.”

Foreman, enjoying himself indeed, donned a red robe. The sweat beads glistened on his head. He quenched his thirst by drinking bottled water. From a large bottle. The whole bottle. In just two swills. Foreman is not big. He’s Big.

Now to audience participation, a Q and A from the crowd of about 150: “You ask me how far I run?” He leaned over the ropes, looking down and waiting for full attention, pausing before delivering the punch line. “It depends on where my kitchen is from my bedroom. ...

“How long am I going to keep fighting? I’ve got nine children at home (four Georges and five girls). They’re all like little birds. I’ll fight till they get out of the nest. ...

“How tall am I? I was 6-3 when I was champ. Had a size-12 shoe, but now it’s 13 1/2. So I did grow when I was out of boxing. ...

“How much can I bench-press?” He imitated a waiter holding up a heavy tray.

A pause. Everyone’s either speechless or laughing.

Foreman: “Hey, come on now, ask me another question. This is like one chance in a lifetime. Chance to see a guy who was heavyweight champion of the world 20 years ago almost. If you pass out of here and don’t ask, ‘Hey, George, such and such and so on,’ it’s like you missed the Halley’s Comet of your generation. ...

“What am I going to do after I regain the title? I’m going to recapture my weight.”