Two Minutes in Tokyo: George Foreman Slaughters José Roman

George Foreman may never have been more destructive than he was on September 1, 1973, when he demolished José Roman in two minutes at Tokyo’s Nippon Budokan. This was the 24-year-old champion who had torn through Joe Frazier eight months earlier, throwing every punch with frightening intent.

The bout was Foreman’s first defense of the WBA, WBC, and Ring heavyweight titles. It was also the first world heavyweight championship fight staged in Japan.

Roman had little chance of testing him. The Puerto Rican challenger stood 5-foot-10 and weighed between 196½ and 197 pounds, leaving him considerably smaller than the 6-foot-4, 219-pound champion. He had been outside the rankings when the fight was signed before being elevated to No. 9 by the WBA and WBC.

That placement gave the promotion official legitimacy, but it did not make Roman a genuine threat. Foreman was 38-0 with 35 knockouts and had just destroyed Frazier in two rounds to seize the championship. Roman brought a 43-7-1 or 44-7-1 record, depending on the source, with 21 knockouts.

Once the bell rang, even two minutes proved too long.

Foreman did not merely follow Roman and swing wildly. Under trainer Dick Sadler, he had learned to take broad lateral steps that closed escape routes. His lead hand served as more than a jab. He posted it against Roman, pushed him off balance, and turned him toward the right hand.

That rough leverage helped Foreman control opponents before the power punches landed. Some of it crossed into boxing’s gray area, particularly when he shoved or extended his lead arm, but Roman lacked the strength and composure to resist it.

The destruction of Frazier also followed Foreman into the ring. Roman knew that six knockdowns had reduced the previous champion to a helpless target. His tense movement and reluctance to commit gave Foreman little reason to respect anything coming back.

Foreman cut down the available space, drove Roman toward the ropes, and attacked his body. Roman fell along the ropes near the one-minute point, but referee Jay Edson initially treated it as a slip or loss of balance rather than a knockdown.

The decision became controversial when Foreman landed a right while Roman was sitting on the canvas. Roman’s manager, Bill Daly, and trainer, Al Braverman, jumped onto the apron demanding a disqualification. Edson ruled that Foreman had been following through and that the punch carried little force. Because the original fall was ruled a slip, Roman received neither a mandatory count nor additional recovery time.

The challenger rose, only to be dropped by a right hand. Roman made it up once more, but Foreman finished him with a right uppercut at exactly 2:00 of the opening round. Roman’s corner later called Foreman “the dirtiest fighter in the world,” while some members of the Tokyo crowd booed the abrupt ending.

Roman’s ranking exposed the business behind the defense. He was outside the WBA and WBC ratings when the fight was arranged, then elevated to No. 9 so the organizations could approve him as a challenger. The placement did not make him a mandatory contender or establish championship credentials. It allowed an overseas title defense to proceed against an opponent selected for limited risk.

Promoters advertised Foreman’s purse as $1 million, a figure that became attached to the fight in later records. Contemporary reporting placed his actual guarantee near $250,000, while other accounts and Foreman’s later recollections put his earnings in the $250,000 to $300,000 range. Roman received approximately $100,000.

Attendance reached roughly 7,500 to 8,000 in an arena capable of holding nearly twice that number. The midday Saturday scheduling and expensive tickets hurt local sales, leaving Japanese promoters braced for a financial loss despite televising the bout free to domestic viewers.

Foreman followed the Roman destruction by stopping Ken Norton in two rounds the next year. Across the Frazier, Roman, and Norton fights, he needed only five rounds to dispose of three heavyweights who had a combined 91 professional victories.

The two-minute result also concealed a flaw that Muhammad Ali later exploited. Foreman committed heavily to his power punches and expected resistance to collapse under the first sustained attack. Roman rewarded that approach by folding almost immediately.

Ali refused to provide the same response in Zaire the following year. He forced Foreman to keep punching after the quick finish failed to materialize, turning the champion’s aggression and confidence in his strength into an exhausting trap.

Foreman’s comeback decades later produced one of boxing’s greatest stories, capped by the heavyweight championship at age 45. Yet the older Foreman relied more on patience, positioning, and conservation. The 1973 version brought something more frightening: youth, crushing strength, and an appetite for immediate destruction.

Roman was never equipped to disprove it.