These two tiny strong men could sit and talk to each other about living in poverty and exile, the beatings and abuse, the racial discrimination and injustice one or other or both of them suffered in their remarkable lives before sport - in their case weightlifting - helped them to alter course.

But if they did meet again, half-a-century since they last competed on the same platform, these sporting giants who stand 4ft 11in and 4ft 9in respectively would talk instead about their families, their health, their children and grandchildren, their memories of the World Championships and Olympic Games in which they competed in the 1960s and 1970s - all in all, their good luck.

Yesterday, I showed Nassiri a photograph of Precious McKenzie, who at 81 is nine years the older of the two.

His eyes lit, up, he was delighted to hear that Precious was well and said, "He is my friend, we met in Tehran at the World Championships in 1965."

His memory is sharp.

The story of Precious - like Pelé and Serena, he has a one-word name; nobody ever calls him "McKenzie" - is perhaps known more widely than that of Nassiri, despite the fact that his greatest achievements came in the Commonwealth Games rather than the Olympics.

He was brought up by cruel foster parents in South Africa when his father was killed by a crocodile and his alcoholic mother was deemed incapable of raising him and his sister.

Precious still has the scars from a knife wound inflicted by a foster mother, a series of cuts made by a so-called witch-doctor; he was tied to a stake and beaten; his growth was stunted when he was forced to carry heavy loads of water on his head.

Years later he became the best weightlifter in his country but that was not enough to earn him a place in South Africa’s teams because he was the wrong colour.

Precious escaped to England and became a star, appearing on television and in the newspapers - not just the sports pages - and becoming a favourite of the Royal Family.

The Queen was there to watch him in 1978 when he won a record-breaking fourth Commonwealth Games gold medal - and to invite him the next day to her garden party.

He won that medal for New Zealand, where he now lives, having emigrated in 1975.

Nassiri's self-imposed exile was not until the 1980s, when he left Iran to coach and live in Spain, then Canada.

He, too, had a tough childhood, abandoned by his parents and raised in an orphanage alongside 400 other children.

"I don’t even know my father, where his grave is," he said.

Nassiri learned to fight, sometimes with a knife; he would make money on the streets by performing feats of strength; he took his share of beatings and kickings.

After channeling his strength into weightlifting he became Iran’s number one, winning gold, silver and bronze at the Olympic Games in 1968, 1972 and 1976, as well as five golds at the World Championships, five Asian titles and a host of world records.

After that 1968 gold, "I arrived at Tehran airport at 10 or 11pm, and there were so many people there to welcome me, so many on my journey, I did not get to my home until 11am the next day. I don’t know why people love me, but they love me from the heart".

He was supported throughout his early days, and later in life, by a wealthy benefactor from the military, General Malek Nia.

"I dedicate everything to him," said Nassiri.

He always loved weightlifting but it was a hard life, never harder than in 1977 when he was in Iraq for the Asian Championships, two years before the Shah was deposed, three years before the Iran-Iraq war started.

The day before his competition the Shah sent a message to Nassiri: you must win gold in Iraq.

That really put the pressure on.

"I would often lose a lot of weight before a competition and for this one I had to cut five kilos - but there was no sauna in Iraq," said Nassiri.

"No sauna! I nearly died!"

Nassiri had to use the hot bath method - submerged in scaldingly hot water, get out and wrap up in blankets, and repeat, interspersed with bouts of extreme on-the-spot exercise.

"I went into the bathroom at 7am and I was there until 3pm, eight hours of agony," he said.

"At the end I could not even stand up, I was carried out and taken to the weigh-in by ambulance."

What happened next?

"I made the weight, I recovered, I won the gold medal."

Nassiri became a wealthy man, renowned for his generosity.

"If somebody wanted help, wanted money, I could sense it and I would approach them first," he said.

"God gave me property, gave me money and if others need it I must give it to them. I am happy to help."

Nassiri will not talk about what happened after the Islamic Revolution, though some say he spent time in prison for no reason.

In 1984 he went to Barcelona, from where some of the lifters he coached still try to contact him via the Iran Federation more than 30 years later.

He then moved on to Vancouver, from where he returned to Iran in 2006.

"The IOC (International Olympic Committee) named me as one of the best weightlifters of the 20th century, and the Government asked me to come back in 2000,” he said.

"I thought about it for six years, and I came."

When Naim Suleymanoglu, the greatest of all the diminutive strong men, died last year the worldwide reaction, the messages of condolence, the level of interest in reading about him, was remarkable.

Sometimes it can seem that a truly great sportsman or woman is given the respect he or she deserves only in death.

They should be celebrated in life, not after they have left us.

Not so much in stage-managed awards events backed by a wealthy sponsor, but by the people who truly appreciate what they did - how they raised the spirits of their own public, how they lit up an Olympic Games or whichever global event is remembered for their exploits.

The media is often guilty of overlooking stories and characters from the past, of focusing only on the here and now.

That is why it is so uplifting to see Mohammad Nassiri given a hero’s welcome every day at the Fajr Cup here in Iran, where he is introduced as the country’s greatest weightlifting hero.

All the VIPs, as well as the spectators, want to shake his hand, want to be pictured with Nassiri.

Hopefully Precious McKenzie will enjoy a similar response when he is a special guest at the Commonwealth Games in the Gold Coast next month.

Their sport gave them a better life, and they gave so much to their sport.

We should celebrate our living legends.

Liam Morgan is away