Always cheerful and smiling outside the ring, a true lion within the sixteen ropes: Leonard Bundu was like that, a champion with a humble heart and inexhaustible competitive spirit. His offensive onslaughts kept us on the edge of our seats, his liver shots made us jump from our chairs, and his battles abroad made us proud to be Italians. Born in Sierra Leone but moved to Florence in his adolescence, Leonard has given great honor to our country, establishing himself as one of the best boxers of this generation to grace our rings.
The “Florentine of Africa” turned professional quite late, at the age of 30, after participating in the Sydney Olympics in 2000, but once he made the leap, he never looked back, climbing step by step toward glory. His journey followed a classic path: from the Italian title to the European Union title, from the true European championship to the thrilling opportunity at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas, all without proclamations or grandiosity, with the humility and seriousness that always pay off in the end.
His aggressive style and a certain tendency to get injured caused some of his fights to end prematurely, including his first bout for the Italian title, which ended without winners or losers after three rounds. At the end of his career, there were even seven “technical decisions”; however, Bundu never got discouraged, insisted, improved, and won, becoming the European champion between 2011 and 2014, with six successful title defenses and two memorable victories in England. The well-deserved opportunity to face two of the best welterweights of the current era in the United States unfortunately did not result in victory, but both Keith Thurman and Errol Spence had to dig deep into their repertoire to tame him. I talked with Leonard in person about these and other unforgettable battles, retracing 11 years of a commendable career through his words.
Your first opportunity to win the Italian title saw you face the formidable Luciano Abis at the PalaLido in Milan. After a fiery start with terrible exchanges, the fight ended in a technical draw in the third round due to a head clash. Did you feel any regret for the missed opportunity? Why wasn’t there a rematch?
Yes, there was and still is some regret, especially since when I later won the Italian title for the second time in Florence, the fight lasted only one round because my opponent, Grassellini, suffered a shoulder pain and could not continue. For me, the Italian title was the first milestone, a very coveted and important recognition, but not having struggled to earn it, I never felt it was mine. In fact, I never even saw the belt! I don’t remember what happened that night in Florence, but I never received it: they told me they would send it to me later, but it never happened. I’m sorry because I had previously fought in the undercard of other Italian title fights and always looked at the national champions with admiration. Against Abis, we had three intense rounds, both of us ended up on the ground: I wasn’t counted, but there should have been a count. At the time of the stop, I was still full of adrenaline, but it went as it did. Initially, there was talk of organizing a rematch, but I don’t remember why it didn’t happen.
Significant titles soon followed: first the Italian title, won against Grassellini, then the European Union title, whose first defense took you abroad for the first time, into the German Frank Shabani’s den. What memories do you associate with that first professional experience abroad?
Initially, I was supposed to fight Shabani in Finland, in the undercard of a Ruslan Chagaev fight, but he was found positive for a non-serious form of hepatitis; since he couldn’t fight, the entire event was canceled. However, going there helped me get used to fighting abroad because it was completely different from what I was used to. In Italy, when you fight, it feels like a village fair, but there, everything was meticulously organized, from the lights to the arrangements; they even had the UB40 perform, a very important musical group, and overall, the event was highly anticipated. I confess that when I found out I didn’t have to fight, I was almost happy because the environment had struck me, I felt out of place and a bit tense for the first big appointment abroad. So, when a month later I went to Germany, I was prepared, I knew what to expect and felt very charged. Besides, when you overcome the initial tension, these well-organized major events push you to give even more to stay at that level. So, it was a great experience.
In 2011, the time was ripe for the definitive leap in quality, which materialized with two thrilling derbies against the dangerous Roman puncher Daniele Petrucci, ending in a technical draw in Rome and a points victory for you in Florence. How much did those two exciting battles help you grow?
Those two matches were a very important step in my growth. They were highly anticipated and publicized, and there was much talk about them because we were two undefeated boxers fighting for the European title. So, I was very excited and felt the importance of the fight even more than in Germany, since I was one of the protagonists, along with Petrucci, for such a prestigious title. Facing him was very important for me in every way, both because I fought against an undefeated and skilled boxer like Daniele, and because I participated in a large-scale event. When I turned professional, I wanted to give my best, but I didn’t say I wanted to become European champion or compete for the world title: I embarked on this career trying to give my maximum, to see where I could go. As I fought and faced increasingly rated opponents, I grew: certainly, those two fights against Daniele gave me a great boost for the definitive leap in quality.
Your long reign as European champion was enriched by two achievements in the UK, where you knocked out Lee Purdy in the last round of an exciting fight and then surprised the undefeated Frankie Gavin, bringing him to the brink of a KO and defeating him on points. Can we define the fight against Gavin as the greatest achievement of your career? At the sound of the last gong, did you believe you would be awarded the decision?
Surely, it was one of my most important victories. When I went to fight in England against Purdy, I encountered, for the first time, someone who taunted and mocked me. Even during the fight, he said, “You’re old! I’ll knock you out!” Then he took punches, hard ones, and seemed not to feel them, so there was also a moment of growth there, as I withstood the provocations, realizing I had to insist until the end to assert myself. Towards the end of the fight, I started talking too, saying, “You’re starting to get tired, huh? See what happens when you talk badly about old men…” I won by KO in the end, but I have to say that what happened surprised me because I thought taunting and insulting each other was a typically American habit. However, this prepared me for the next step; my career indeed progressed one step at a time, with ever-increasing difficulties: maybe if I had gone directly to the European title after the Italian one, I would have reacted differently. Against Gavin, my corner, to stimulate me after each round, said, “You have to do more, or they’ll never give you this victory!”: hearing them, it seemed like I had lost all rounds. So, when it ended, even though I knew it was a very balanced match, considering the home advantage, I didn’t think I would remain champion. That fight, by the way, at one point seemed already over: after knocking him down, I was almost already celebrating, but he was great in getting up. It was a very beautiful and hard-fought bout for both of us.
The splendid victories as European champion led you to the chance of a lifetime: a fight against the formidable Keith Thurman at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas for the WBA interim title. After knocking you down in the first round, the American adopted an extremely cautious strategy. Do you think that initial knockdown took away some of your usual momentum?
Certainly, yes. In the first round, given all the trash-talking he was involved in and knowing his reputation as a puncher, I thought he would come in to brawl, so I immediately tried to attack to show him what I was made of. I went at him without thinking too much, took a punch, and went down. In the following rounds, I thought he would come forward to capitalize on that knockdown, so I waited without pushing too much, but round after round, he kept boxing completely differently from what he had always done, and it ended like that. In the first round, even though I went down, I managed to hit him a couple of times and saw that he was vulnerable, so maybe he decided it was better not to risk and win by boxing from the outside, as he knew how to do well. Besides, when we met the next day in the hotel lobby, the doorman asked us, “Who of you two lost?” because he had a marked face, and the punches that marked him were surely taken in the early rounds when there were close exchanges. Clearly, after the knockdown, I tried to think not to make the same mistake, maybe if I hadn’t gone down, I would have found a way to shorten the distance.
Having fought two of the strongest welterweights of this generation, you can satisfy our readers’ curiosity: who do you think was superior between Keith Thurman and Errol Spence? And who hits harder?
Immediately after the fight against Spence, even though he had put me to sleep, I thought Thurman was more technical because he had shown himself to be very mobile, elusive, and good at getting in and out; plus, he had a really hard punch. Naturally, Spence also hits very hard, but they have different kinds of power. Spence has a punch that moves you a meter, while Thurman has a sharp punch, the kind that gives you an electric shock when it hits you. When I fought Spence, even though he was very good too, he seemed a bit easier to hit. So, at the time, I thought that a demolisher like him against a boxer with Thurman’s power and technical skills would get hit and lose. However, after watching all of Spence’s subsequent fights, where he had great victories, I changed my mind, especially considering all the physical issues Thurman has had.
In light of your fantastic career, which we have retraced together through its key moments, do you have any regrets about turning professional so late compared to many of your colleagues?
Sometimes, yes, but I’m realistic and know that earlier, I wasn’t mature enough to make the sacrifices required of a professional to reach high levels. Professional boxing is a big commitment, not a game: as an amateur, I was still a “child” mentally. When I made the switch, I did so knowing the sacrifices I was facing. It went the way it did because that’s how it was meant to be. Sure, if I had had a different mindset as a young man, it would have been better: with ten years less, maybe I would have written a few more pages in Italian and international boxing history.