In Memory of George Foreman: The Heavyweight Who Grilled His Way Into History

When we remember George Foreman, we remember a giant — not just in size, but in spirit, in strength, and in sheer cultural impact. A two-time heavyweight boxing champion, Olympic gold medalist, preacher, pitchman, and unlikely culinary hero, Foreman lived a life that spanned worlds: from the gritty squared circle of the ring to the cozy comfort of a kitchen countertop.

Foreman first roared onto the world stage in 1968, clinching Olympic gold in Mexico City. He turned professional the next year, and in 1973, with terrifying power and an aura of invincibility, he flattened Joe Frazier to become heavyweight champion of the world. In the ring, Foreman was a force of nature — 6’4”, 220 pounds of raw, bone-crushing power. He went toe-to-toe with legends: Ken Norton, Muhammad Ali, Ron Lyle. And after a 10-year retirement, he shocked the world by returning to the ring in his forties and reclaiming the heavyweight title at age 45, the oldest man ever to do so. It wasn’t just improbable. It was mythic.

But for all the punches he threw and the titles he won, that’s not what many of us think of first when we hear the name George Foreman.

No, for millions, Foreman wasn’t just the man who could knock you out cold — he was the man who could cook you a burger just right.

Yes, the George Foreman Lean Mean Fat-Reducing Grilling Machine. The counter-top wonder that found its way into dorm rooms, apartments, and family kitchens across America and beyond. In an age before air fryers and protein hacks, the Foreman Grill was a miracle. It could grill meat, toast sandwiches, sear vegetables — all while draining fat like it knew what was best for you.

And maybe it was. For all the things George Foreman was — and he was many — he may have been the only heavyweight champion in history to genuinely change the way millions of people ate. Think about that. Ali floated and stung. Tyson punished. Lennox jabbed. But only Foreman grilled.

He took a product he believed in, slapped his name on it, and sold over 100 million of them worldwide. But more than sales, it was the way he embraced it — smiling, joking, proud — like he knew full well how strange it was that a boxing legend had become a kitchen staple. He wasn’t just the face of the grill. He was the grill.

And therein lies the magic of George Foreman. He was never too big to be human. Never too tough to be funny. Never too proud to evolve. He taught us that second acts are real, that reinvention is possible, and that life — like meat — is best when you keep the fat trimmed and the fire hot.

So yes, we remember him for his fists, for his comebacks, for the medals and belts and unforgettable nights under the lights.

But we’ll also remember him when we hear the sizzle of chicken thighs, when we smell the crisping of panini, when we tilt that grill and see the fat drip away.

Rest easy, Big George.

Thanks for the gold. Thanks for the fights.

And thanks — most of all — for the grill.