Following the example of other out-to-pasture athletes, “Big George,” as he was known, began taking on endorsement work for brands. A 1992 Doritos spot starred him and his five sons, all named George. (The kicker: “Four out of five George Foremans prefer the taste of new Doritos.”)

A year later, he posed as a boxing coach in a Meineke spot, yelling “I’m not going to pay a lot for this muffler!” The 6-foot-4 Foreman also appeared for the big and tall clothing brand Casual Male.

In one way or another, these advertisements borrowed heavily from Foreman’s pugilistic persona: a refrigerator-sized ruffian not to be messed with. But Foreman was, in fact, a deeply spiritual man—converted when, he later said, God had spoken to him in the locker room after he’d lost a fight.

 The experience softened Foreman’s rough edges, imbuing him with an unexpectedly avuncular demeanor. “There was a transformation from a young, hard character who felt a heavyweight champion should carry himself with menace to a very affectionate personality,” Boxing commentator Larry Merchant told the New York Times in 2015.

Whether by design or happenstance, this gentler George Foreman was the one who emerged during late-night informercials for the George Foreman Lean Mean Fat Reducing Grilling Machine. Colloquially known as the George Foreman Grill, the device was essentially a grooved sandwich press canted to drain off the grease.

“In this machine, the fat goes—the flavor stays,” said Foreman who, with an infectious smile and a shaved head, resembled a 250-pound baby.

As ADWEEK reported in 2018, five years into the endorsement deal, over 12% of U.S. homes had one. Today, manufacturer Spectrum Brands estimates that it’s sold 100 million of the grills.

Foreman would always remember the moment his career as a marketer may have surpassed his calling as a boxer. It happened in 1997 after Shannon Briggs defeated him.

 “I lost my last professional boxing match,” Foreman said, “[and] received a check for $1 million for the grill.”