Last night I chanced upon a rerun of a 1991 Championship fight between Evander Holyfield and George Foreman. It was a remarkable performance, in which Foreman was attempting to regain the heavyweight title. It would have been an uneven match at best. Holyfield, at 28, was lithe, quick, every muscle tense and defined. Foreman, at 48, was massive, slow, and plodding. Throughout the 15 round match, Holyfield danced around Foreman, landing blows to the head and body, some pretty substantial. Foreman, plodding forward in an attempt to get in the solid blow that would end the fight, seemed unaffected by the blows raining on him without stop. After every round, both fighters retired to their corners, coming back out to resume their efforts seemingly unscathed.
I was intrigued by the reaction of the crowd, which obviously wanted blood. They screamed, stood up, urged both fighters on vigorously. I had missed the fight when it happened, probably because I was working. I had covered wrestling matches when I worked at the Gazette in Texarkana, but wrestling matches, though appearing to be violence at its worst, were staged and seldom did a wrestler suffer injury. Sometimes the audience, in their excitement, would throw things at the wrestlers or pummel each other, one night even picking up the metal chairs and hurling them onto the canvas. The reporters went in pairs to cover the stories, in case one or the other became incapacitated. I enjoyed these assignments immensely. We even had Gorgeous George contending against the local wrestlers at one point, a most successful event, sold out to capacity.
Of course Holyfield won the match on a unanimous decision by the judges. I doubt if George Foreman landed more than a dozen punches, and at no time did Holyfield appear even shaken. Foreman seemed content with the decision and plodded off as calmly as he had come in. The arena was filled to capacity. It brought back many memories.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
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