For any sports fan, Leon Gast's documentary When We Were Kings is compulsory viewing. It's a ripping yarn about one of boxing's most memorable battles, the Ali-Foreman Rumble in the Jungle.
Employing archive footage and contemporary interviews, Gast brilliantly chronicles the mad tale of two great warriors consummating their violent agenda, surrounded by a vast and kooky supporting cast of Don King's shadowy showbiz flotsam, amid a swirling 1970s culturalsoup.
One of the film's most compelling clips is a brutal montage of the young George Foreman's victory over then champion Joe Frazier. In the manner that a cat bats a dying mouse around the kitchen floor, Foreman bludgeons Frazier to the canvas six times in a round and a half before the referee humanely intervenes.
This image has come to my mind increasingly often in this World Cup.
On several occasions it has seemed as if it's not a fair fight when, armed with only a small white sphere and a look of grim determination, the unfortunate bowler ran in to confront his executioner.