George Foreman passed away this week.
The headlines remembered his fists. I remembered his friendship. With Muhammad Ali.
They gave us one of boxing’s greatest rivalries. The Rumble in the Jungle was brutal. Ali won. Foreman fell. But the real story began much later. They became close. Joked with each other. Grew old together. Foreman once said, “Ali was the greatest man I ever met.” Not the greatest boxer — the greatest man.
It reminded me how often fierce competition leads to something deeper. A kind of friendship that’s only possible after both have given their all.
Like Jesse Owens and Luz Long. Berlin, 1936. One Black, one white. One American, one German. Hitler in the stands. And yet, Long helped Owens adjust his take-off. Owens won gold. Long stood beside him. They exchanged letters until Long died in the war. Owens later said, “You can melt down all the medals and cups I have, and they wouldn’t be a plating on the 24-karat friendship I felt for Luz Long.”
Or Federer and Nadal. Their rivalry defined modern tennis. They fought over every inch of grass and clay. But off court, something shifted. They laughed together, practiced together, cried together. When Federer retired, Nadal flew in just to sit beside him. He said, “When Roger leaves the tour, an important part of my life also leaves with him.”
Some friendships are forged not despite the competition, but because of it.
Like Leander Paes and Mark Woodforde. They played on opposite sides of the net. But somewhere along the way, Woodforde became more than a rival. He became a mentor, a guide. Paes said he learned how to be a better player — and a better person — from him. Woodforde, in turn, called Leander “a brother in tennis.” Sometimes the real partnership begins after the match.
And speaking of brothers — Ashok and Vijay Amritraj. Sometimes opponents, sometimes doubles partners. Always, a team in the bigger picture. Their rivalry never came in the way of their bond. You could watch them play and not know who won. You could only tell they cared.
Even across borders, this thread holds.
Neeraj Chopra and Arshad Nadeem throw javelins for different countries. But after the finals, it’s always the same scene. A handshake. A smile. A shared photo. “Neeraj is my brother,” said Arshad. And Neeraj replied, “Sport brings us together.” They compete with full force. And then, they connect with full heart.
Maybe that’s the point.
You have to compete. You don’t have to hate. That’s a higher order — not everyone reaches it. But those who do leave behind more than medals and records. Sports makes it visible.
They remind us that when the final whistle blows, what remains isn’t the scoreboard.
It’s the story. And sometimes, the friendship.
Because eventually, all the coins go back in the box.
What stays is who you became while playing the game.
And who stood beside you when it was over.
