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In any case, his appearance prompted me to reflect on his career and his place on boxing's mythical pyramid. Since the Rhode Island native legally shortened his name in recent years, I will respect his wishes by referring to him by his new moniker.

Paz's powerful personality demanded that those who observed him form an opinion – one way or the other. Those who loved him really loved him while those who hated him did so with equal fervor. His supporters said his colorful sequined ring wear that sometimes included a devil's tail was evidence of his charisma while his detractors called him a show-off, a hot dog and disrespectful of his sport's traditions. The same could be said of his in-ring demeanor; those who liked him fed off the energy of his fast-twitch bustling style while his showboating and taunting of inferior opponents enraged those who didn’t.

It is written that everyone is given certain gifts, and in the opinion of this observer one of Paz's gifts is the ability to stir passions. One can't credibly put "indifference" and "Vinny Paz" in the same sentence because of his knack to strike a nerve whatever he is doing. Vinny the fighter couldn't care less whether you liked him or hated him, just as long as you paid attention to him – and paid your money to see him do what he did best. But Vinny the man is quick with a smile and eager to sign an autograph – and that's just one more reason why his fans love him so much.

When I think of Paz, three images immediately come to mind. The first took place November 26, 1985 when Paz took on Melvin Paul in Atlantic City. It happened three fights after Paz suffered his then-only loss to Abdelkader Marbi via cuts in Italy, and he was looking to use the 21-6 Paul to re-launch his lightweight title drive.

Did he ever.

In the second round, Paz backed Paul into the ropes while crouching and rolling his right glove as if he was preparing to throw a bolo punch. But instead of throwing a bolo, Paz launched a rocket of an overhand right that slammed against Paul's jaw and instantly anesthetized him. Paul was already out even as his body pitched forward and hit the canvas. It would be the most spectacular knockout of Paz's career and it remains one of the most remarkable one-punch KOs I've ever watched – and this comes from a man who has seen tens of thousands of fights either live or on video over the past 33 years.

The second was the intense nose-to-nose stare down with then-IBF lightweight champion Greg Haugen before their tumultuous first fight in Providence on June 7, 1987. "Mutt" rightly prided himself on his own toughness – before he turned to pro boxing, he fought and beat far heavier men in Toughman matches held in the rough-and-tumble bars of Alaska. Paz, who was inspired to begin boxing after seeing the first "Rocky" movie, had an army of passionate "Pazmaniacs" working with him that day at Providence's Civic Center. He needed every decibel they generated that day because he entered the ring with severe stomach problems and exited the ring with cuts, a broken nose – and Haugen's belt – courtesy of a unanimous decision. It would be just the first of many occasions when Paz demonstrated another one of his gifts – an unquenchable fighting spirit.

The third image did not take place in a boxing ring but in a weight room. Shortly after winning his second world title by knocking out WBA junior middleweight champion Gilbert Dele in October 1991 Paz was involved in a car accident and his injuries included a broken neck so severe that his doctors told him his boxing career was over. Never one to back down from a challenge, Paz set out to prove his doubters wrong. Following a three-month hospital stay, Paz raced out to the nearest gym to test his body.

Still wearing a metal halo to stabilize his neck vertebrae, Paz vigorously lifted weights to build up his body. The video was played over and over during the run-up to his comeback fight against Luis Santana following a 14-month layoff. It burnished an everlasting image in my mind because this was a man whose passion for boxing was so strong that he would suffer through anything to have it in his life.

Like fellow New Englander Willie Pep, Paz overcame a life-threatening injury to return to the ring. Pep fought for 19 more years following a 1947 plane crash that inflicted severe back injuries while Paz’s career continued for 12 more following his accident. This episode serves as a perfect illustration of how powerful a pull boxing can have on an individual. Paz had a very good excuse to pack it in and call it a day but his love of the sport was so deeply ingrained that he withstood the pain of rehabilitation and emerged from his experience a stronger person.

Throughout his boxing life, Paz's critics called him a glorified club fighter who only got ahead because of his flashy costumes and big mouth. His biggest fan, his father Angelo, once put him in the same sentence as Sugar Ray Robinson. The truth, as is often the case, is somewhere between the two extremes.

I am of the opinion that at his best, Paz was hardly a club fighter – he was much better than that. He possessed world-class hand and foot speed and he used that speed to rack up 50 wins in his 60-fight career. Because half of his 30 knockouts took place in his first 19 fights against sub-par competition, power was never a big part of the equation once he ascended to the sport's top levels. That meant he had to be in tip-top shape to maintain his high-energy style round after round. The only way Paz could enter the ring in that kind of condition was through hard work, and that hard work was fueled by a Herculean work ethic, and the source of that work ethic was his passion for the sport. When a man has a passion for something, it becomes a part of everything he does and that certainly was the case with Vinny Paz.

Sometimes, he let that passion manifest itself in negative ways. He was disqualified in the 11th round of his WBA junior welterweight title shot against Loreto Garza, and there were some ugly moments – either in or out of the ring – against Roger Mayweather, Hector Camacho and Dana Rosenblatt. But for me, the positive far outweighs the negative.

Paz once said "there are a million guys out there who probably have more talent than I do, but they don't have my spirit or will. I'm probably not a Hall of Fame fighter, but I know what I am – I'm a warrior."

I have reviewed the tapes of Ali-Foreman numerous times and while Big George does get tired at an unusually early juncture, I don't believe it was the result of a tainted drink. Though the fight took place in the middle of the night, the weather conditions in Kinshasa, Zaire were extremely oppressive. The combination of heat and humidity made for a difficult fighting environment and Foreman's all-out assault didn't help matters much.

Ali began the fight on his toes, but he quickly discovered that Foreman was tremendously skilled in cutting off the ring. Because Ali was taking eight steps in the same space it took Foreman two, he realized that he would exhaust himself by the middle rounds. That prompted Ali's fertile mind to conjure the "rope-a-dope" strategy, which beautifully dovetailed with Foreman's desire to launch Ali's head so high in the air that it would land somewhere in Kenya.

The sight of seeing Ali propped against the ropes was too much for Foreman to resist and he was convinced that "The Greatest" would crumble at his feet at any moment. After all, that's what happened to Ken Norton and Joe Frazier, the only two men to defeat Ali to that point. By the fifth round, all was lost for Big George. Because his attack was predicated on the "here and now," Foreman had no energy left to invest in the future and the result was an eighth-round knockout.

Only Foreman can know whether that tainted water really had anything to do with his defeat. But from this observer's prospective, Foreman's impatience sowed the seeds of his downfall more than the water did.

As for the book itself, it is much more than just a venue for revisionist history. Foreman discusses both the good and the bad of his spiritual journey and offers sage advice on faith, integrity, optimism, recognizing and taking advantage of opportunities, making adversity work in one’s favor and the secrets of his success. He also reveals the reasons why he named all of his sons "George" as well as the tale behind the George Foreman Lean Mean Fat-Reducing Grilling Machine.

Ever since I began flying in July 2005, my "base of operations" has been Pittsburgh International Airport, a large and thoroughly modern facility complete with shops, restaurants and other amenities designed to soften the impact of the inevitable flight delays and cancellations.

The one drawback is that I must get up at least five-and-a-half hours before my flights in order to make it to the gate in the recommended time frame. I don't really mind the two-and-a-half hour drive, but in this age of historically high gas prices the expenses do add up. So imagine my relief when I recently discovered that the Mid-Ohio Valley Regional Airport was offering daily flights from Parkersburg to Pittsburgh. Yes, I would have to catch one more plane, but the benefits far outweighed that small inconvenience.

First, my drive time was reduced to 40 minutes, allowing me to wake up later in the day.

Second, I don't have any problems finding a parking space. In Pittsburgh I would often have to drive around the extended lot for at least 10 minutes to find the needle in the vehicular haystack. Here, I had my pick of spaces – and the $5 per day charge is certainly priced right.

Finally, the process of ticketing, checking bags and going through security take far less time than at the big airports because there are no long lines. There are only four gates in the entire facility and they are located mere steps from the security area.

But the thing that struck me most about this small airport is its relaxed pace – a pace that might get on the nerves of big-city types but is perfectly suited to someone who lives in a town of 146 people. When I walked into the terminal for the first time one morning in mid-June, I was the only person in the area. The peace and quiet was such that I needed to ring a bell to receive service in the check-in area – and no one had any trouble hearing it. The service was prompt and courteous, and the relative silence in the waiting area is a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of every other airport I've encountered. Sure, the planes themselves are smaller and at 42 I was by far the youngest person in the waiting area, but in the end I enjoyed my first visit to this facility.

Whenever I go through security, I have to grab three trays instead of the customary one or two. The first tray is for my shoes, cell phone, change, keys and other metal objects that would offend the nearby metal detectors while the second tray is for my carry-on bag. The third tray is required because I carry my laptop wherever I go, and the rules require that I must have it out of its carrying case and inside a separate tray before it goes through the screening process. Meanwhile, I put its carrying case inside the first tray because my carry-on bag takes up too much space in the second tray to allow anything else to occupy its space.

Now that I'm an experienced road warrior, I have developed the ability to separate my items in very quick order so I don't hold up my fellow passengers behind me. But sometimes there are snags. For example, I recently learned the hard way that I had to have any clear plastic baggies containing my toiletries out of my bag before going through the x-ray. Not only that, I have to separate my items by gels (toothpaste, shaving cream, sunscreen, etc.) and solids (deodorant, soap, hairbrush, etc.). In short, I don't have to have one plastic bag, I must have two, and both must be out in the open to speed up the security process.

The constant shifting of security procedures often give me a headache, so I sometimes have to stop by a store inside the airport to buy the medicine I need to relieve my pain. The headache relievers are easy enough to access, but the same can't be said of the wonder pills themselves. Because of federal regulations and safety concerns, the medicine is encased inside several layers of packaging, and the best way to break through those layers is with a pair of scissors.

Guess what you can't find inside an airport because of the potential terrorist threat? You got it.

Because of that, I have to resort to the barbarian method of ripping the packaging apart with my bare hands, then using my incisors to tear it enough to finally get to the pain relieving pills.

I thought medicine was supposed to relieve headaches, not create more of them. Such is life in the 21st century.