The recent passing of George Foreman brought an outpouring of praise and affection. All deserved.

Big George was, in many ways, smaller than his heart. The kind words, even the public gushing, were expected and appropriate, especially considering that he was the one in a million who turned his personality around from teenage thug and bully to savvy businessman and humanitarian.

Foreman’s departure forces us to ponder something else. Let’s call it the addiction of rivalry and the power of three. With Foreman gone, it warrants a longer look, at how competition in individual sports can create huge fan bases and almost cosmic devotion. And how rare that is.

Foreman boxed in a time of Muhammad Ali and George Frazier. They were joined at the hip by greatness and public passion. Others fought successfully in the ‘60s, ‘70s and ‘80s, roughly the same era as Foreman, Ali and Frazier. But when two of these three stepped into a boxing ring, the world stood still. Not just the boxing world or the sports world. The world. It was international news.

It was like that in golf in a similar era. Arnold Palmer charged down the fairways of the world surrounded by an army of semi-unhinged followers. They would follow Arnie to the ends of the earth, and sometimes his go-for-it-at-all-costs approach brought them close. Then along came a younger and arguably better player in Jack Nicklaus. He won a lot, hit more sensible shots, occasionally swung for some singles and doubles instead of the fences. That attracted a different kind of fan, and lots of them. Never quite Arnie’s Army, but close.

While this was going on, a magnificent little ball-striker, Gary Player, showed up from South Africa and made it a threesome. With this trio, the dry, predictable pro golf world became must-see.

They were the Big Three: Palmer, Nicklaus and Player. Their nicknames upped the hype and made them impossible to ignore. Television soon discovered that and turned up the volume. When The King was charging down a fairway with his army in tow, the Golden Bear was matching him birdie for birdie a few holes behind, and the Black Knight kept hitting his irons inside five feet, nobody thought golf was boring.

When it was over, Palmer had won 62 PGA Tour titles and seven majors, Nicklaus 73 titles and a record 18 majors, and Player 24 Tour titles (22 more on the senior tour) and nine majors.

Gary Player, left; Arnold Palmer, center; and Jack Nicklaus, right, hold their championship trophies following a Greats of Golf event on May 5, 2012, in The Woodlands, Texas.

(Dave Einsel / Associated Press)

Palmer died at 87, Nicklaus is 85 and Player 89. They were the power of three. None would have meant as much without the other two. They lit the fuse for Tiger Woods, who did quite nicely, but without any sustained challenger, even though Phil Mickelson tried his best. They were only two.

Tennis celebrated a similar run.

When the Big Three of Roger Federer, Rafael Nadal and Novak Djokovic were in a tournament, the gold standard of the sport was on display.

Federer played with the refined precision of the famous watches made in his native Switzerland. His ground strokes and movement were so pretty that opponents occasionally got caught admiring instead of competing.

Nadal was the bulldog who got ahold of your pants leg and never let go. When the guy across the net had him down a set and a break and Nadal was limping, you knew the poor guy playing Nadal had no chance.

Then a slightly younger Djokovic came along and challenged both Federer and Nadal. The tennis world now could celebrate its own power of three.

Federer is 43 now, retired with 20 majors to his name, including eight Wimbledon titles. Nadal is 38, recently retired and with 22 majors and a record 14 French Opens. Djokovic is 37, not yet retired but slowing down a bit while trying to improve on his record 24 majors and 10 Australian Open titles. Federer’s nickname was the Swiss Maestro, Nadal was Rafa and Djokovic is The Joker.

The three played each other 150 times: Djokovic over Nadal, 31-29; Nadal over Federer, 24-16; and Djokovic over Federer, 27-23. Most matches were late in tournaments. Each was perceived as epic, and most were.

Tennis is built for rivalries, and it had several over the years, among others: Rod Laver and Ken Rosewall, Bjorn Borg and John McEnroe, and Martina Navratilova and Chris Evert. But it wasn’t quite the magic of three.

Which brings us back to the death of Foreman and the memory of boxing’s Triple Attraction.

Foreman, Ali and Frazier, the golden trio, fought only six fights. Ali beat Frazier once and lost to him twice; Frazier lost to Foreman twice and Ali beat Foreman once. But each fight was an occasion without borders. One was fought in Manila, one in Jamaica and one in Zaire (now the Republic of Congo). When they fought in the States, the venues were big and legendary: twice in Madison Square Garden and once in the Nassau Coliseum on Long Island.

When Frazier lost to Foreman in Jamaica in 1973, he went to the canvas six times. Each had entered the ring unbeaten. Early in the first round, Foreman stunned the boxing world by catching Frazier with a huge punch. The call from ringside, by the king of obnoxious sportscasting, Howard Cosell, marked the fight and the fighters for the ages.

“DOWN GOES FRAZAH! DOWN GOES FRAZAH! DOWN GOES FRAZAH!”

Joe Frazier staggers after challenger George Foreman hits him with a hard right during the second round of a heavyweight title fight in Kingston, Jamaica, on Jan. 23, 1973.

(Uncredited / Associated Press)

Note he said it three times, the magic of three.

When Ali beat Foreman in their only meeting in Zaire, he hit Ali with everything, including the kitchen sink, for seven exhausting rounds. Then, as Foreman was inclined to tell the story years later at various functions and dinners: “In the eighth round, we got in a clinch and Ali whispers in my ear, ‘George, is that all you got?’ And I quickly realized it was.”

Ali knocked out Foreman later in the round. Sadly, they never fought again.

Frazier won his first march with Ali, then lost the second and suffered, in the minds of many boxing experts, such a terrible beating in the third one, the Thrilla in Manila, that he was damaged for the rest of his life. His corner threw in the towel after the 14th round, saying later that they could watch no more. Ali, the winner, said of the match, “It was like death.”

And neither had even been knocked down.

Now, Big George, Smokin’ Joe and The Greatest are gone. Suffice to say, boxing will not get the same buzz from Tyson Fury, even if the heavyweights still command the most public attention. Manny Pacquiao versus Floyd Mayweather in a lighter weight was compelling, but they fought only once and when that one ended, nobody was comparing it to death or screaming into a microphone: “Down Goes Manny!”

Boxing will punch on. So will golf and tennis. But there appears no power of three anywhere on the horizon.

So long, George, and thanks for the memories.