Jenise, I thought and thought, and then the Congo came to mind. I know I posted a while back the fact that I purchased CDs with all of Mohammad Ali’s fights and all of George Foreman’s fights. I love to watch them for hours on weekends at the lake after Lynn goes to bed. I watch them downstairs, which is also my wine cellar.
There are about ninety fights; in only one case do the sets overlap.
Almost better than the fights themselves is the commentary, often grossly understated. In his youth, Foreman would sometimes hit fighters so hard that they would go into catatonic spasms on the canvas. Some announcer would say, “I don’t think he will beat the count.”
Ali was being interviewed after Foreman destroyed Norton in the second round, opening the door to the famous Zaire match between Ali and Foreman. A commentator asked Ali, “What do you think about finally having the opportunity to fight in your homeland.” Ali snapped back to the white man, accusingly, “Why do you call Africa my homeland?” The man retorted, “Why, Champ, you’ve been telling me that for ten years!” That’s right,” Ali said, “and if you come over there talking like that we're gonna to cook you.”