Heavyweights have traditionally not brought much luck to our country. With the exception of the blood ties of the great Rocky Marciano, born and raised in the USA but the son of Italian immigrants, the Italian flag has rarely crossed paths with the elite of boxing’s biggest division. Just think that the historic triumph of Primo Carnera, who became world champion in 1933, had to wait 56 years before being even partially matched. The man who accomplished that feat was our Francesco Damiani, who captured the newly created WBO belt in 1989 at the Nicola De Simone Stadium in Syracuse.
Undoubtedly, that title doesn’t carry the same weight as a unified one, but the mere fact that no Italian boxer has since managed to match Francesco’s achievement confirms its value and should make us proud of him. It was therefore a real pleasure for us at Boxe Punch to talk directly with Damiani about the most significant stages of his remarkable career, which includes two European gold medals, a World silver, an Olympic silver as an amateur, as well as European and World titles as a professional.
Your amateur career was full of success, but perhaps the most thrilling and unforgettable moment, beyond medals and prestigious results, was your 1982 victory over the Cuban Teofilo Stevenson. Can you describe that magical night when you managed to clearly beat a true legend of this sport?
Stevenson was always a myth to me: in 1976, before I had even set foot in a gym, I watched the Montreal Olympics and followed boxing mainly because of Stevenson. So when I drew him in 1982, I knew he was a great champion: he had already won three Olympic golds and two World Championships. I was still new to the national team, but maybe they had forgotten that I had won the European Championships in 1981. I don’t say this to diminish my win, but that night in the ring he probably underestimated me, thinking I was just the opponent of the day. Instead, I managed to counter his style, fought smart, and won. It was one of those victories that make you take a leap in quality, like when Filippo Tortu ran 9.99 in the 100 meters: a performance like that takes you to another level. There was already some interest in me, but from that day it grew, and I began taking everything even more seriously.
An 18-fight winning streak led you to fight for the European title against the 2-meter-tall, very powerful Swedish giant Anders Eklund. In that match, you showcased your entire arsenal, including qualities you’re not always credited for, such as toughness and a ruthless finishing instinct. Was it a tougher victory than expected?
I should start by saying that my whole team helped me give my best in the ring. For example, my manager always found sparring partners suited to the style of my next opponent. I knew Eklund from the European Amateur Championships in Finland, but in the early rounds he gave me trouble and even opened a cut over my eyebrow with a punch. Of course, knowing that the title was within my reach and that I had to give everything to bring the European belt home, I gritted my teeth and pushed on. In the end, I beat him clearly, but he was a great opponent and I didn’t expect that. Sometimes when you watch a future rival’s fights, you think it’ll be easy, but once you’re in the ring, you realize it’s not.
After becoming European champion, you had the chance to get revenge on Tyrell Biggs, who had been your nemesis in the amateurs. How satisfying was it to stop him inside the distance, in fewer rounds than it took Mike Tyson a year earlier?
That night I stepped into the ring determined to beat him convincingly. I must admit Biggs was a classy opponent who made me suffer early with an unpredictable left jab, but the anger I felt over the world title he’d taken from me was huge. That happened in 1982, and back then you couldn’t just find fight footage on YouTube; I’ve never liked rewatching my fights, but that time I went to RAI to get the tape and cried scandal. He was very fast, and I knew I had to be faster or he’d avoid all my punches. Then I focused all my anger into the right hook that cut him, and that was the explosion of everything I had inside. I avenged everything—the Worlds and the Olympics—and it was a great satisfaction, though the gold medal still haunts me. I have the silver, which is nice: when you’ve won silver, you see only one man ahead of you and twenty behind, which means you’ve achieved something important. But gold is always gold.
By defeating South African Johnny Du Plooy in three rounds, you became the first heavyweight in history to win a WBO world title. Can we call that left hook the most beautiful KO of your career? And what did that triumph mean to you?
That left hook was probably the cleanest punch of my career. The right hook I landed on Stevenson in the third round was also great, but the one that floored Du Plooy was truly clean, and it was perfectly captured by the TV cameras. Becoming world champion was a wonderful satisfaction, even if I didn’t realize it right away: it sank in only later. That world title was, in a sense, the “cake” of my career. The icing would have been facing Holyfield or Tyson.
Indeed, after the unfortunate loss to Ray Mercer, you came very close to facing Evander Holyfield, but had to withdraw due to an ankle injury. In those years, the heavyweight division was filled with legendary names: besides Holyfield, there were Mike Tyson and the revived George Foreman. If you could go back and choose only one, who would you have liked to face?
First of all, I would have fought all three of them. But if I have to pick one, I’d say Mike Tyson. Facing him would have been the crowning achievement of my entire career: even if I had lost, I’d have had the awareness of having given my all and reached the highest level. The same goes for Holyfield, while with Foreman it might have been a bit different, since he was returning after a long layoff. A fight with Holyfield or Tyson would truly have been the icing on the cake I mentioned earlier.
What kind of fight would Tyson vs Damiani have been? Have you ever imagined it in your mind?
I’ve often faced boxers with that kind of style. For example, as an amateur I fought Valery Abadzhyan, who attacked with his head down and looked for close range [a Soviet amateur boxer who knocked out Lennox Lewis, editor’s note]. Tyson fought like that: he kept his head tucked between his arms, looked for contact, and once inside, unleashed his punches. He threw those short, tight hooks that are hard to see. I would have had to survive the first five rounds without taking too much damage and then hope to have enough left to build up as the fight went on. But it’s hard to say how it would have gone: you have to be there to really know. Mercer was a similar kind of opponent, but less powerful, less fast, and less explosive, because when Tyson started throwing those hooks, he was terrifying. In any case, no matter how it turned out, I would have gladly taken that fight. When I asked my manager if there had ever been contact, Branchini told me they had reached out, but wanted us to sign a “choking” contract. Those are managerial issues; back then I was the fighter, so I can’t tell you the details, but from what I was told, the offer wasn’t satisfactory.
After you, unfortunately, no Italian boxer has managed to win a world title in the heavyweight division. Recently, the hopes of many Italian fans have been placed in Guido Vianello, whom you know very well. A few years ago, you said you were convinced Guido would one day fight for a world title. Do you still stand by that prediction in light of his recent results and performances?
I watched his last fight, which he lost on points against the American Torrez, and I think that despite the defeat, Guido performed well. He’s begun to build a true “professional” physique. I stayed amateur a bit longer than he did; he only boxed at a high level for a few years. So when he turned pro, his style was still quite “amateurish,” but little by little, he’s adapted his boxing. Now, after watching his last fight, I believe he still has something important to say in the heavyweight division. Of course, to do that, he’ll need to train hard and prepare well for what awaits him in the ring. Over there, referees aren’t like ours: they don’t stop the fight for every foul. In the United States, they want to let the show go on and are much more permissive, so he’ll need to get used to that. Still, I’m convinced he can make another leap forward, and I’m not the only one who thinks so, because Bob Arum extended his contract with Top Rank, which means they still believe in him too. He now has another tough fight coming up, against an unbeaten opponent, but that’s normal, those are the steps you have to take. When I turned professional, at first they gave me easy opponents to help me grow and adapt to different fighting styles. But later, once you move up and reach a certain level, you have to face boxers who really “test your temperature,” who show you how far you can go: guys who are unbeaten or have very few losses. Guido is 31, at the peak of his physical maturity, and I think he can still give us some great surprises.
One last question before we let you go celebrate your birthday: is there any young prospect in our national scene who gives you hope for the future?
Since I left the national team circuit, I haven’t had many contacts. Before stepping away, I used to follow a young fighter from Campania, Paolo Caruso, who, up until three years ago, gave me very positive impressions: young, talented, skillful in his boxing. But in Italy, we’re a bit peculiar: in the past, there were top-level managers who, as soon as a good boxer emerged, would sign him and turn him pro. Now, instead, they first have to go through the national team, and even if they stand out, once they turn professional, they don’t get much support or have high-level managers willing to invest in them. The last one to be signed by a world-class promoter like Top Rank was precisely Guido Vianello; other boxers don’t receive the same backing. I had Caruso on the national team; he finished second at the World Youth Championships, losing in the final to a Cuban fighter in a bout that, in my opinion, he didn’t even lose. I don’t know how his career has developed since then; I’m no longer involved… But he truly was a boy with exceptional qualities.