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| Big George Foreman pounded the pulpit and preached Christianity to the congregation while we sat on the wooden pew. Thumping meaning into words, feelings of peace and love, the former champion hammered out points. Cleaned up, glorious George wooed the crowds with smiles and friendship. He chewed each word, as if steak-gravy |  |
worked on mouthfuls in a meditative way. Almost hulking, as though burdened by heavy muscles, he gleamed from a face put in long years from the squared ring; an aggressive jaw smiled fresh-shaven, sprouted skin folding into a coffee grin. “Keep your chin up, but not too high. When life knocks you to the canvas, get back in there. No bell saves a chump. In 1977, after my fight with Jimmy Young, I became reborn again in the locker-room. The sleeper awakened. Reborn, and I retired from boxing.” George Foreman raised his heavy arms in the Church of the Lord Jesus Christ. George broadcast over the radio waves, counseled prisoners, and spent time in his youth and community center. Life of his arteries, veins stood up in the backs of his hands, large swollen knuckles, smashed and battered, a testament from the old days. Stretching the elasticity and pumping the blood flows, he pointed towards the stain-glass window of Christ. The big money, sharp glorious fighter, the 45,000 hours for the weary fifteen rounds, he heard nothing but his words boom, no yelling houses of whirlwind finishes. Brain and bones finished eloquent, helping the old guard see the light.
Foreman slammed home points of gospel, reverberating the cathedral, like the old days when he punched as a knockout artist. He nodded salutations, crying out to mankind with strength and skill, right and left. Minister Foreman now won the hearts of the congregation. With unlimited glory of strength, every word balanced on steel and springs, danced swift and clever dazzling the souls more than the winning of the Olympic gold medal in 1968. He expended splendor and excellence in insurance and furious onslaught of demons. He overwhelmed, stinging the foe of evil with a thousand actions, interwoven like flying attitudes for the eager-hearted and their good fortune. He hit harder than any in the long ring battles, more than Joe Frazier during the heavyweight title fight in 1973. He coolly never blinked or wavered. The old ways, in the loving hate years, changed scowls of ring anger from the dark surly times. Now, he helped those that needed a helping hand.
The audience loved the big teddy bear. They gasped awe-stricken. He spun the story of his youth. A rebel with no cause, Foreman told about dropping out of junior high school and reverting to petty theft. His heaving chest thrust out, slight tuck of his chin, he heard the whispers with half-closed sleepy eyes. He told of his belligerent attitude, often picking fights. He spoke of how Charles “Doc’ Broadus helped him into the fight game, who saw promise in his physical strength. Under the direction of Broadus, Foreman trained to be a boxer. Growing up out of Houston Texas, getting ahead, then the Rumble in the Jungle with Ali in 1974. Half a minute passed, overconfident, and leaving an opening, a right arm flashed to the colored glass effigy of Christ. A lightning blow drove the message home. In 1994, Foreman recaptured the title in a dramatic victory over the reigning heavyweight champion, twenty-six-year-old Michael Moorer. He annunciated the struggles of becoming the oldest heavyweight-boxing champion in history. Glorious flying arms told of rising to rebuild his inner life in virtual anonymity as a preacher in his hometown of Houston.
Because this made such inspiring news, and because he was suddenly so likeable for the first time, the marketing world went wild over him. Ring magazine reported that Foreman’s lawyer received over two-hundred business proposals. The Grill was one of them, and he offered another advantage: clean living. Endorsement contracts routinely include morals clauses in the event that the celebrity makes headlines for the wrong reason. Foreman, a grandfather and minister who doesn’t even use foul language, wasn’t likely to have problems like that. On the strength of his improbable comeback, Foreman got endorsement deals for Meineke, KFC, and Doritos among others, but he wanted something bigger. His advisors put an idea in his head–why not put the George Foreman name on a product and keep more of the money for himself? Perhaps something connected to his well-known love for hamburgers?
Watching the faces, chimes broke the silence. He explained, as a father of ten kids, a grandfather, where none thought of him coming back, he made $150 million from the sales of the George Foreman Grill, more money from the venture than his entire boxing career. Salton bought him out. The Salton Corporation got started by Lewis Salton, who arrived in America in 1940 after fleeing Nazi-occupied Poland. He launched Salton in 1947. Then turned it over to Dreimann, born in Latvia and a longtime resident of Australia. Salton went on the stock market as an IPO. Then they met George Foreman. Lord works for those that remake themselves. The organ gave credit to the moment.
Before his eyes a sea of faces sagged and hushed into silence, “I might be the fattest guy in the world, but I got the hardest punch!” he yelled. “If I miss you with my left, I’ll get you with my right!” Heavy legs half-stepped backward, timing upper cuts and a series of downward sweeps, arching blows meant to shaken and jar the evil from the minds of the worshippers. Wiping away the clinches of experiences, he remarkably continued his defense of his good life. Talking more about the success as a business advocate, “I thought, boy, they must have seen my last fight five months ago,” he said. “I never had people smiling at me like that.” But that wasn’t it. “They said, ‘No, we love your grill. When I was doing KFC commercials,” said Foreman, “people would say, “boy, that was a funny commercial, but they never said a thing about the chicken. It was so spontaneous. It was a real reaction. People saw that I ate what I sold.”
George moved in and out from the Good Book, here, there, and everywhere, lightning footed and eager-hearted, a living wonder of bronze flesh, and stinging muscle that wove a wonderful story for the parishioners. “It was like an electric spark, and simultaneously, the veil of blackness lifted from me. I was really scared,” said Foreman. “I’d found something I loved, and I didn’t want to lose my job. I’m obligated as long as I’ve got the health and strength to do it to give Him.” Appealing to the men and women in different but equally powerful ways: women saw him as warm and cuddly while men see him as a champion. The grill also has that dual appeal: women, who are still more likely to prepare the family meals, can cook and clean up more easily and faster. Men, on the other hand, may eschew cooking, but grilling? Could anything be manlier? One lesson that does apply to other businesses is that sincerity counts. For all of Foreman’s salesmanship, even a cynic can see he loves this product. It has literally become part of his identity.
“No home should be without this thing,” he said. “God bless you. Go get one.” In the line up outside, after the sermon, the preacher told how he signed a deal in March with food giant ConAgra to helm a new line of lean meats. But while he’s been offered dozens of endorsement opportunities lately, so far no other big corporations have appealed to him. “I want something small that I can grow with,” he says. “Let me grow with you.”
Joe de Beauchamp can be reached at joedebo@wfnn.info
