I was out to watch a day of boxing and saw him in the concourse. I walked up and shook his (enormous) hand and told him it was nice to meet him before his bodyguard gave me the Vulcan neck pinch & threw me into the horizon.
Today, 29 years later I saw him again.
He was a woman.
I don’t mean he was acting like a pansy or wearing a wig.
He. Was. A. Woman.
With fists that could easily have crushed my sternum and the same haircut I remember from watching Howard Cosell, she was jazzercising in the shallow end of the pool and singing out (ironically) “Float like a butterfly, sing like a bee!”
I was tempted to go shake her hand but her bodyguard looked like he had the neck pinch ready to so I stayed where I was.
As I was leaving I swear I saw George Foreman coming out of the women’s locker room.
I probably should have stuck around…