The world has lost a heavyweight in every sense of the word—George Foreman, two-time boxing champ, grillmaster general, ordained preacher, and card-carrying member of the “Wrestling Fans Who Could Punch Through a Wall” club, has passed away at the age of 76.
The Foreman family announced the news on Instagram with the kind of dignity you’d expect from the man who could knock out a bear on Saturday and be back in the pulpit by Sunday:
“A devout preacher, a devoted husband, a loving father, and a proud grand and great grandfather, he lived a life marked by unwavering faith, humility, and purpose.”
Let’s be real: George Foreman didn’t just live a full life—he lived several. Olympic gold medalist in ‘68. World heavyweight champ by ‘73. Fought Muhammad Ali in The Rumble in the Jungle, one of the most legendary bouts in human history and possibly the only time “getting knocked out” still added to your mythos.
Then, in a move that would make any babyface proud, Foreman retired, repented, became a preacher, and returned to boxing at age 38 like it was Rocky Balboa: The Director’s Cut. He went on a 12-fight win streak, lost to Holyfield (no shame), and then—at 45—knocked out Michael Moorer to win the heavyweight title again. The man had no business doing that… which is exactly why he did.
He ended with a 76-5 record, 68 knockouts, and exactly zero opponents who forgot what his uppercut felt like.
Outside the ring, Foreman became a household name for something else: The Grill Heard ‘Round the World. The George Foreman Grill has sold over 100 million units, which means statistically, every wrestling fan probably made a midnight grilled cheese on one at some point.
But here’s the Peanut Gallery special sauce: George was a wrestling superfan. He often credited pro wrestlers as his earliest inspirations. Before the gold medals, before the belts, before the apron-seared chicken, he sparred with Hulk Hogan and Rocky Johnson—not as a gimmick, but as a guy who genuinely respected the squared circle.
George Foreman was a walking paradox: gentle with his faith, brutal with his fists. He could knock you into next Tuesday, then pray for you by Wednesday. A hero. A hustler. A man of many hats… and at least five sons named George. (Not kidding.)
Rest in peace to the Punching Preacher. May Heaven smell faintly of grilled burgers and humility.