The first two will always be true. Several fighting old fogeys have redrawn the sport’s age boundaries over the decades, however. In other eras, a 30-year-old fighter may as well make an appointment with the undertaker and have a burial plot waiting. These days, 30 means nothing.

When George Foreman signed to face Evander Holyfield on April 19, 1991, he finally secured the heavyweight title shot he waited almost two decades for.

“Big” George was 42 and lacked the muscle definition of his hulking, younger self. He’d also dropped the menacing scowl, trading it in for jokes, witticisms and a soft belly. Late night TV hosts made a cottage industry of the absurd idea that this version of Foreman could win another heavyweight title.

They were safe jokes to make. Holyfield gutted his way to a cruiserweight title and became the first fighter to completely unify the division. Then he moved to heavyweight to dismantle James “Buster” Douglas, the man who killed the Mike Tyson myth on an unbelievable 1990 Tokyo morning.

At the time, numerous sportswriters wondered aloud if Douglas was one of the greatest heavyweights of all time. Time has a way of smoothing out hyperbole: decades later, Douglas is a mere passerby who briefly held the heavyweight title. He went from a talented and under-performing amateur fighter and basketball star to a Columbus, Ohio heavyweight hero overnight. Then he did little but eat, rest and gain weight, paving the way for the career-hungry Holyfield.

The heavyweight title changed hands twice in eight months. Not errant belts handed out on a whim, but the undisputed title. Perhaps only portions of the 1930s or the Floyd Patterson-Ingemar Johansson trilogy compared at that point, but the speed with which Douglas became a cautionary tale jarred the entire sport.

Many suspected Holyfield could simply be another Douglas. He wasn’t particularly tall, not shockingly explosive, super fast or a slickster. There were articles and video segments dissecting Holyfield’s struggle to put on usable weight in going from cruiserweight to heavyweight, and he was widely considered undersized.

A likely showdown with a comebacking Tyson at least offered clarity. Tyson also hadn’t lost much appeal since losing to Douglas, thanks in part to loud and litigious claims from promoter Don King and others that Douglas was given a long count and was never truly the heavyweight champion. The clash would simply have to wait.

The years linking the 1980s and 1990s were full of uncertainty regarding how boxing could be distributed, not unlike when television crashed into millions of living rooms around the U.S. in the 1950s and pundits declared the sport dead. Cable giants like NBC, CBS and ABC retreated from the sport amid scandals as sponsorship dried up. While HBO established itself as a boxing stronghold years earlier, Showtime was newer and both networks’ relatively infrequent broadcasts couldn’t sustain the upper edges of the sport. That’s where TVKO entered the fray.

HBO needed a way to carry big fight cards and justify stars’ growing purses, thus the network created TVKO, an update to the pay-per-view model the sport pioneered decades earlier. The original plan involved monthly fight cards, and HBO sought to launch TVKO with the help of the heavyweight champion and an old star.

Holyfield and Foreman were promoted by Main Events and Top Rank, respectively, and all involved recognized the need for a premium venue. New Jersey, where Top Rank was based and where Top Rank hosted its debut fight card, happened to also be a popular fight town at the time. Four of Mike Tyson’s 1980s title defenses happened in Atlantic City, where promoter Don King had befriended Donald Trump.

Contractual issues and haggling behind the scenes almost torpedoed Holyfield-Foreman immediately after contracts were signed in early 1991. Both promoters accused Trump of attempting to change the terms, though extensive wrangling ultimately salvaged the event and a curious heavyweight title fight.

Oddsmakers either enjoyed the “Old George Foreman is fat” jokes or weren’t swayed by his frightening knockouts of Adílson Rodrigues and Gerry Cooney, making Holyfield a strong favorite at about 3/1. Foreman leaned into it by showing up to events with trays full of cheeseburgers and doing photoshoots sitting among fast food orders. He even posed with giant-sized burgers while pretending to not remember things.

Anyone willing to scratch below the promotional surface might have noticed Foreman working on his farm, which he’d done for years, and how incredibly strong it made him. His biceps and forearms were truly massive, and his midsection really wasn’t that big. In the ring, he was slow but he no longer wasted energy flailing at opponents, and legendary figures Archie Moore and Angelo Dundee were on his team.

One thing setting Holyfield apart from his predecessors Douglas and Tyson was discipline. The champion was 208 pounds the night he won the title, and he was 208 pounds for George Foreman. He wouldn’t eat his way out of the title like “Buster,” and he generally stayed out of the trouble Mike got into.

Holyfield was also smart and backed by a great trainer in George Benton. He noted Foreman’s withering punching power and knew to stay away from it, and Foreman knew he needed just one mistake to turn out the lights on Holyfield’s reign.

Foreman’s jab alone prompted Holyfield to bounce around and punch in combination early in the fight. Benton had Holyfield punish Foreman’s arms and shoulders as the former champion used his cross-arm guard to block, and Holyfield appeared to carry surprising power that kept Foreman at bay just enough to earn points.

Many rounds in the first half of the bout began with both fighters trying to win a jabbing war, and using those jabs to open up bigger shots. Holyfield stuck around for a few too many of those at the end of Round 2 and went to his corner hurt, but he returned fire to wobble Foreman with combinations in Rounds 3 and 4.

A right hand forced Holyfield to briefly shuffle his feet and scoot away as Round 5 ended, and once again Holyfield responded by absolutely walloping Foreman with full-strength punches in Round 6. The champion was proving his mettle at great risk, occasionally placing himself in mortal danger to do more than barely win. And it was a much better fight than most expected.

“Don’t let [Foreman] get brave on you,” Benton told Holyfield after the sixth, and he was right. Foreman was like a slow-moving tank. Opponents saw him from a mile away and knew what kind of artillery he fired, and as long as they could get out of the way they might just take that long stroll home. But Holyfield let Foreman get brave in Round 7.

Foreman clipped Holyfield with right hands that hurt him just after the bell began the round. Holyfield roared back, landing combinations that rocked Foreman sideways, then fought to keep Foreman off him the rest of the round.

While it wasn’t a last hurrah, Foreman’s output slowed over the next several rounds and Holyfield carefully navigated them. The champion took proper risks and swelled Foreman’s left eye up with lead right hands while avoiding Foreman’s power. Foreman lost a point in the 11th round for a low blow and ate punches the whole way.

Foreman tried in vain to corner Holyfield in the final round. “The Real Deal” wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t win the round emphatically, but he didn’t need it as all judges scored it for the reigning champion.

It was a rare event where nearly everyone emerged looking better than before. Holyfield demonstrated an iron chin and steel resolve, not to mention the ability to stick to a game plan against a monster, and Foreman confirmed he was in on all the fat jokes. He was a threat and a menace. TVKO also successfully established itself as a player, making tens of millions of dollars on its first show before the 1990s were showered with memories of unnecessary pay-per-views and subsequent illegal “black boxes” that allowed us to watch them for free.

Holyfield-Foreman helped kick off the loud spirit of 90s excess. But it was Foreman specifically who made the fight immortal. Boxing’s 42-year-old Don Quixote getting that close to the heavyweight title inspired the likes of Jimmy Young, Jerry Quarry, Danny Lopez and numerous others to stage ill-advised comebacks. Even Foreman’s old foe Ron Lyle made an attempt. All fell far short.

In fairness, Foreman failed against Holyfield too. Just not enough to deter the old man from becoming the only fighter to regain a title two decades after he first won it as a young man.