Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: THURSDAY, November 17, 1994 TAG: 9411180027
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A-23 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: COURTLAND MILLOY
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
``I thanked the Almighty for keeping me alive this long and helping me to fulfill my dreams,'' Foreman said at a post-fight news conference.
Until then, a lot of people had tended to laugh when Foreman talked about God. His professed reliance on a spiritual power was somehow seen as pre-fight hype. But to anyone who watched Foreman earlier this month, it was obvious that the aging pugilist needed a miracle to win and that, 45 seconds into the 10th round, he got it.
From the start of his comeback, which began with a spiritual awakening in Puerto Rico in 1977, Foreman has used boxing to make a point more powerful than any uppercut: Get your spiritual house in order, and your mind and body will follow.
This message, however, has been nearly lost in prideful celebration of aging baby boomers. But as Foreman told the St. Petersburg Times in 1992, ``Preaching the Gospel is my life. I only moonlight as a boxer.''
What Foreman preaches is that self-reliance is insufficient, even for people as big and strong as he. Like so many of us, Foreman once believed that individual achievement and the accolades that accompanied it were what life was all about. By his own admission, he ended up in pathetic pursuit of prestige and material possessions, only to find that there was never enough to satisfy him.
Then came that fateful fight in San Juan, after he was defeated by Jimmy Young. It was oppressively hot. Back in his dressing room, he fainted and came screaming back to consciousness.
``I kept hearing a voice saying, `I don't want your money, I want you,''' Foreman told Newsday in 1991. ``That voice! I knew it was God in the room. I jumped up and kissed everybody and told them, `I love you. I love you.'''
Foreman said that when he got back home to Texas, he put away all of his trophies and photographs and put boxing and his life as a young thug behind him. He settled in a town called Humble, started his church and began to preach on street corners.
He preached about people who, like himself, were always promising themselves that they were going to do better - tomorrow. He talked about people who were always relying on other people to do for them instead of asking God for help.
It was as if Foreman's victory, and his message, had been divinely timed for today's hateful social climate and mean-spirited political atmosphere. Surely, Americans need to know that no new officeholder has the power to solve all our problems and that we have nothing to lose by asking God for guidance and strength.
Freedom from selfishness and the ability to love others - that, Foreman discovered, was what life was really all about.
One reason Foreman went back into boxing after a 10-year layoff was to make some money to enlarge the youth center and to keep his church going. He accomplished that after the first few fights.
In the process, Foreman generated enormous interest in how he is able to do what he does, especially at his age. How did he go from 315 pounds to 250 pounds? Where did he get the discipline and strength?
It was a sign of our troubled times that Foreman wasn't really taken seriously until after he'd won that sparkling championship belt. But he was already aware that some people who have no faith in God somehow have no trouble believing in gold.
Foreman had said from the outset that he had been chosen to deliver a message to mankind: If his life could be put onto the path of a true champion, then the same could happen for others.
The question then became: how? Foreman answered it again when his knees buckled in prayer. And this time, nobody was laughing.
Courtland Milloy is a local columnist for the Washington Post.
The Washington Post
by CNB