George Foreman Vs. Ron Lyle: A Celebration Of The Slugfest

Today, January 24th, marks the 50th anniversary of one of the most incredible heavyweight fights ever seen. Rewind to January of 1976, with Caesars Palace in Las Vegas the venue, and two juggernauts collided in mid-ring, this as they fought, as the legendary commentator Howard Cosell called it on air, in a style and approach that was “utterly without boxing skill.”

27 year old George Foreman was still in his prime, but he was mentally wounded due to what had happened to him in Zaire when the incomparable Muhammad Ali shocked the world in taking Foreman’s cloak of invincibility away. Lyle, who had also fought Ali in a world title fight, this in May of 1975, was older at age 34, yet the former jailbird had started his boxing career late, and he was still relatively fresh and ambitious.

Both men could hit extremely hard, this with either hand, and neither man was what could be referred to as reluctant to let the leather fly with abandon on this day. Many fans, whatever their age, are very familiar with this fight. It is simply epic. The two sluggers, leaving their defensive skills at home, had it seemed, made a non-verbal pact to meet in the middle of the roped canvas and just punch it out. And this is what happened.

It wasn’t long at all before the crowd was on its feet, with plenty of fans slinging out punches of their own. Even Cosell would lose it at times during the dizzying, I’ll hit you you hit me action. It must have been a tough job for on the spot reporters to take down the action accurately, as they either scribbled on a notepad or bellowed into a tape recorder. Twice, “Big George” hit the mat, with the equally big Ron doing the same.

And then there was the red-hot, almost agonising to watch, full-blooded trading. Both men tested the chin, the heart, the sheer desire of the other. Foreman would later say, many times and without exaggeration, that he was willing to die in the fight. The list of excuses he had come up with to feebly-and-he-knew-it explain away his unthinkable loss to Ali had long since bugged Foreman, more so than it had bothered any of his critics.

An honest to goodness fighter, Foreman knew the “quick count” claims he made were baloney, as did George know his water had not really been poisoned. Now, Foreman wanted to prove to himself how far he could go in order to win a fight when it wasn’t going his way. In short, Foreman knew he could have gotten up in that eighth round against Ali, but he didn’t, he was instead counted out as he waited for his corner to tell him to jump up. In the Lyle fight – his first fight back after Africa save for an at times bizarre exhibition where the former champ took on five men inside an hour – Foreman was listening to nothing or nobody but his inner voice and pride.

So, Lyle, hungry for another title shot, drew first blood, which he did when he cracked Foreman with a bomb of an overhand right in the opening seconds of the fight. Foreman paid Lyle back in the following round, which was, due to a timekeeping screw-up, only two-minutes long. Already, the fight had proven memorable.

Things would soon reach crazy proportions.

The third was action-packed, with Foreman getting the better of it. The fourth was an explosion. Lyle, growling as he bit down on his mouthpiece, blasted Foreman with a right-left to the head, and down went the younger man. Hurt bad, Foreman nevertheless got back up quickly, and he soon returned fire. The two traded in the ring centre before Foreman sent Lyle crashing with a right hand of his own. Lyle got up and, after taking some serious hurt, the warrior who almost died in prison after being stabbed came back. And how!

“This isn’t artistic, but it is slugging!” Cosell informed his ABC audience. Lyle, who had been stuck on the ropes just seconds earlier, landed a scorching left hook, and down went Foreman again. The bell came just as Foreman peeled himself from his face-first position on the mat. Foreman, on rubbery legs, half-staggered back to his corner, and as an almost equally arm-weary and tired Lyle briefly hovered before going back to his own corner.

Round five was brutal.

Lyle, using whatever strength he had left, caught Foreman with another left hand wallop, and again Foreman’s legs were spongy. But Foreman, his lip bleeding, reached deep down, his attitude one of utter refusal to give in, with no desire to try and formulate any excuses in his mind, had he even been able to think clearly, that is. And, having been able to stay up from Lyle’s latest bombardment, Foreman returned fully to his no mercy “Bloody Fifth” street fighting days. Foreman bullied Lyle into a corner, and he let loose with too many punches to be able to count, all of them nasty, hurtful shots.

With no sign of the referee coming to the stricken Lyle’s aid, Foreman was permitted to bang away. Finally, with cries of “Stop it! Stop it!” coming from some place in the crowd, Lyle slowly slid to the canvas, with it now being his turn to land on his face. Incredibly, Lyle tried, on pure instinct, to get up one more time. But, no, he was gone. It was over.

The most two-sided, action-crammed heavyweight slugfest had gone into the history books. And so many books would have chapters in them that described and celebrated the savage beauty this fight/war/street fight thrilled millions with.

Foreman and Lyle are sadly no longer with us, but this fight will live forever.

Here’s an interesting little bit from former two-time heavyweight champ Tim Witherspoon, who watched the fight live on TV.

“The George Foreman-Ron Lyle fight is a real classic,” Tim told me some years back. “Have you seen it? (have I!) We watched it live on the TV at home, and we were all going crazy, and then my sister turned the TV over! My brother went crazy, and as he got up, he hit his head on the TV, and he needed stitches. That was one crazy fight.”