Our section “Great Italian Boxing” expands today with a key chapter dedicated to the talented Sardinian boxer Andrea Sarritzu, a standout in a career that brought immense prestige to Italy. Following an excellent amateur path that saw him excel nationally in every category he competed in, from youth to his transition to the professional ranks, the remarkable Sardinian champion graced professional rings for almost two decades. Along the way, he achieved numerous victories and inspired Italian fans with his thrilling battles. Twice he came within reach of a world title but was denied by the legendary Argentine fighter Omar Narvaez, who would later surpass Carlos Monzon’s record for title defenses. Nevertheless, Andrea claimed the European belt twice and never shied away from challenging high-caliber opponents. His journey, marked by hope, setbacks, comebacks, and a deep love for boxing, is one we’ve chosen to revisit through his words.
Your professional career began somewhat atypically: unlike most Italian boxers who first target the national title before aiming for the European level, you fought and won two international titles against Job Tleru and Andrey Kostin, leading directly to a world title opportunity. What did those victories teach you, and why such an unconventional path?
When I chose to turn professional, I embraced the mindset that once led us to excellence: if you have significant athletic potential, it must be leveraged immediately. We didn’t aim to gain experience gradually from the ground up but instead targeted prominent opponents who had already been in big matches to reach the goals we aspired to. I fought in world title eliminators to earn a shot quickly. South Africa’s Tleru was ranked in the top ten, while Kostin, when he came to Italy to fight me, was already familiar with international boxing, having fought abroad at Wembley. We didn’t look for the usual journeymen. After those victories, I was ranked highly by the WBO, and we seized the chance to challenge for the title, especially since Narvaez had just won it.
You fought Omar Narvaez for the world title twice, narrowly missing out—once by Split Decision and once by a draw. Considering the extraordinary career Narvaez went on to have, these results remain highly commendable. What do you think prevented you from bringing that belt to Italy?
For me, the biggest challenge was figuring out the right strategy once I was in the ring. My preparation was excellent, but perhaps I wasn’t yet fully mature; in hindsight, I see there were things I lacked in that first fight. I also need to add that not everything was handled well in terms of the organization, particularly regarding jury selection, which we didn’t influence. I believed I had won the first fight and thought I’d take the second with a little more drive. The two bouts were very similar, almost mirror images; so, since the first had been awarded narrowly to him, I hoped the rematch would go my way. But I have no regrets—it was a fantastic experience, especially at my age. Considering Narvaez went on to fight in 32 world title bouts, I think it’s fair to say I faced a truly significant opponent.
Did you ever try to secure a third match?
Absolutely, I pursued it my whole life because I really wanted to face him a third time. I tried several times, but it wasn’t possible. After the second match, he said he would never return to Italy. Later, when I had my breakthrough and became European champion, I pushed as hard as I could, but his promoters never relented. Even when we secured a major sponsor before I lost the European title, he still refused to accept.
Let’s talk about another double clash, the one for the European title against Spain’s Ivan Pozo. In 2005, he defeated you on points in Spain. What gave you the motivation to endure that defeat and prepare for the rematch with the confidence to overturn the result?
In Spain, I spent the first ten rounds constantly pressing forward, and things unfolded very differently from what the result might suggest. Still, their organization ensured I never felt at ease, and despite giving it my all, I couldn’t do what I intended. I knew that in the rematch, I could win even before reaching the final bell.
I had been going through a very difficult period in my life. In 2003, during the birth of my ex-wife’s child, a medical error caused us to lose the baby. Shortly after, my mother was diagnosed with cancer and passed away before turning 55. Within a year, I also lost my grandmother. These three close losses were incredibly hard to overcome. Thankfully, my son was later born, and I met someone who helped me tremendously on a mental level—my mental coach.
For a boxer like me, who had an incredible amateur career without any major mistakes (aside from the one-point defeat at the European Championships that robbed me of a spot at the Atlanta Olympics), it would have been a shame not to achieve the goals I had set for myself. I was the classic fighter with great potential who, at the decisive moment of his career, struggled to take the final step.
In the rematch with Pozo at the Vigorelli in Milan, you delivered your true masterpiece, achieving an exciting TKO in the final round after being knocked down in the first. Did you anticipate such a tough and thrilling fight?
That was the greatest masterpiece of my entire career because I never took a step back, even in the most challenging moments, showing how immense my determination to achieve that result was. I prepared for four and a half months in Civitavecchia. Between training sessions, I visualized the match I would fight, as my mental coach had advised me.
On the day of the match, I told my trainer, Franco Cherchi, “In the early rounds, I’m going to take a punch, go down, get up immediately, and from there, my fight will begin.” I remember it like it was yesterday. We were in the dressing room with Cherchi and Silvio Branco, who was also fighting for a world title that night.
As fate would have it, that punch came right away in the first round, and that’s why the fight turned out so spectacularly.
You won most of your important matches on points, but in your EBU title defense against Spain’s Zemmouri, you scored a magnificent one-punch KO. Do you still recall that perfect counter right hand?
That was a textbook KO, but truth be told, I’ve scored similar knockouts during my career, though not all of them were caught on film. When a title is on the line, what happens tends to leave a stronger impression, but I remember other KOs that made people clutch their heads in amazement. Even if I didn’t have overwhelming power, with precise punches I could create something spectacular, and when I was in peak condition, it happened fairly often.
Even after losing the title, you kept your ambitions intact, reclaiming it a year later and earning another world title shot for the IBF belt against the formidable South African Moruti Mthalane. That match was the last men’s world title fight under one of the four major sanctioning bodies to be held in Italy. What made it possible, and what would it take to host such high-level bouts in our country again?
First and foremost, we need boxers of great caliber, and unfortunately, we don’t have that today. I follow Italian boxing closely, and I believe the real talent is missing. We need to rebuild from the ground up to achieve results; there’s no point in calling someone a “world champion” when they’re not truly deserving of that title.
My personality drives me to be honest and tell it like it is, even if that means I’m not always well-liked. At the moment, there might be some young boxers who, with the right development path, could one day compete for a major title, but looking around at the champions of the four major sanctioning bodies, I must admit we Italians aren’t on that level.
I was able to fight for that title because I had been the European champion for several years. That’s how I earned my shot. I was already being courted by the WBC, which wanted me in a world semifinal, and by the WBO, whose champion, the Mexican Miranda, was being avoided by everyone. Ultimately, I chose the IBF route, which wanted to organize a semifinal against a strong Mexican fighter and grant the winner a title shot. I agreed, but my opponent backed out. The IBF then asked if I wanted to go straight to the world title fight, as seven other fighters declined the opportunity to step in. At that point, I said to myself, “A world title shot is a world title shot—let’s go for it.”
The outcome, unfortunately, wasn’t as hoped. But if ten years later the South African, then 38 years old, was still a world champion, that must mean something…
Looking at Mthalane’s record and his characteristics, I thought that if I could get through the first seven or eight rounds without taking too much damage, I could impose my boxing style and pull off something good. However, when we stood face-to-face at the center of the ring for the traditional glove touch, I felt a shock—it showed just how powerful his punches were.
It was never clear how he managed to make weight. On the scales, he weighed even less than I did and was so dehydrated he could barely stand. The next day, he looked like a fighter two weight classes above me; we were stunned. By the time we got into the ring, he weighed at least eight kilograms more than me, and I thought, “This can’t be my opponent—it’s impossible.” He was massive.
I gave it my all anyway. After landing a few solid punches in the opening rounds, I hoped he might start to slow down, but instead, he accelerated from the seventh round onward. After taking two heavy body shots, I gave up. I was losing and would likely have been knocked out, as his punches were incredibly powerful. All I could do was shake his hand because he had proven to be the stronger fighter. Unfortunately, the physical drop-off we were hoping for never came.
Thank you for your time. Is there anything else you’d like to say to our readers?
The only thing I’d like to add is that I retired from professional boxing with a lot of bitterness. If the promoter I worked with, Salvatore Cherchi, had been a little more humane and sincere, he could have allowed me to finish my career on a high note. There was an opportunity to achieve records that Italian boxing had been waiting on for years: winning the European title for the third time and being the only boxer to win the national title in all categories since I was a child.
Being given the chance to win the Italian title would have allowed me to set a record I could be proud of, but they didn’t let me. I can’t complain about the money I earned during my career, but I’m left with this regret—that the people who guided me for so many years didn’t truly care about a boxer who gave them so much.
Looking back on my career from 2006 to 2013, I can say that OPI 2000 (now OPI Since 82) ran on Andrea Sarritzu’s back: they only organized titles for me, and behind me stood their entire stable. They tried to promote other boxers by gifting them title matches, but they didn’t get the same results. And I can also say that the money I was owed for some of my title fights took a long time to arrive.
After 20 years in the sport, I thought I deserved to be thanked—if only with that simple Italian title I missed out on. It would have crowned my dream of adding that record to the others I achieved.