THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Wednesday, November 9, 1994 TAG: 9411090480
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C1 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Column
SOURCE: Bob Molinaro
LENGTH: Medium: 66 lines
George Foreman's message of humor, hope and eternal youth is a natural sell.
George was a popular endorser of products before he won the heavyweight crown Saturday night. Now, the 45-year-old muffler salesman may become a spokesman for everything but Jenny Craig and Hair Club for Men.
Surely you've heard: Foreman is an inspiration to his generation. Every man in his 40s, I've learned from reading the paper and watching TV, is stepping a little livelier today because of what George has accomplished.
People find inspiration in the oddest places. For example: From my perch along press row at RFK Stadium, I can look directly into Jack Kent Cooke's box. Once again last Sunday, the eightysomething Redskins owner watched his team lose in the company of a beautiful woman who looks to be more than 50 years his junior. Cooke's date is easily the best young prospect we've seen all year at RFK.
As long as Cooke is squiring someone with a learner's permit, I don't need George Foreman around to remind me of the advantages of battling the aging process.
In some ways, of course, Foreman's accomplishment is even more amazing than Cooke's. George has managed to make people care again about boxing.
He has given the racket a modicum of dignity. He has put a happy face on a grotesque pastime.
He has made boxing look decent. He has made it seem like fun. To the traditional equation of greed and misery, he has added hope.
Depending on how you look at it, Foreman is either the best or worst thing to happen to the fight business.
He is not menacing, like the moody Mike Tyson. Or boring, like Evander Holyfield. He is not Michael Moorer, Oliver McCall, Riddick Bowe, Lennox Lewis or Buster Douglas, ciphers who had convinced us to stop paying attention.
I don't remember anybody complaining as the heavyweights dragged boxing to the bottom. Now Foreman comes along to give the game a new respectability.
Appreciated for his comic timing and comforting patter, he is an overstuffed middle-aged fighter who claims to train on hamburgers and cheesecake. Though his act is transparently fake, the audience can't get enough.
Foreman has taken boxing off the police blotter and put it on the entertainment page. Whereas only cynicism existed before, he has brought romance to the heavyweight division.
Nothing has changed; boxing still is a cesspool. Only now you aren't as quick to detect the stench.
Because of Foreman's personality, and what he represents, people don't even mind when the finish to the Moorer fight comes with a fishy smell.
Just as no one will complain when George's first title defense is against a jelly doughnut. For a while, Foreman is the show all by himself, and every scam carries built-in appeal: Old Guy vs. Young Guy.
For millions of dollars, Foreman can stand flat-footed in the ring, as rooted as a sequoia, and work over the worst excuses for boxers he can find.
In time, if he's still champion, he'll be asked to fight Tyson. Once sprung from his Indiana prison cell, Tyson is destined to take boxing back to the gutter, with or without Foreman's permission.
When that happens, George Foreman will still be a hero. And boxing will look like its true self again. by CNB