Always believe and never give up, even when everyone counts you out. For Valerio Nati, the great Romagna-born boxer of the 1980s, these words were a true mantra: constantly predicted to lose by the experts, the daring Italian puncher made a habit of upsetting the odds. A true European ruler, with two reigns and a total of eight wins for the prestigious EBU belt, Nati never stopped dreaming of a World Title. At the age of 33, after a long and grueling career, his perseverance was finally rewarded.
The victory he achieved in December 1989, when he won the WBO super bantamweight belt in Teramo, marked the culmination of a winning journey—enriched by the unforgettable emotions his all-action style gave to his many fans.
From his early triumphs in the ring to fierce rivalries, memorable battles, and the satisfaction of today’s recognition, we retraced the story of Valerio Nati through his own words, as he kindly agreed to share his memories with us.
Your first title win came in 1979, when you dethroned Giuseppe Fossati to become Italian champion. That name brings back both sweet and bitter memories, as he later took the European title from you. What stands out to you about that trilogy?
I won the Italian title match—and I won it convincingly. Then, after several defenses of the European title, I started struggling to make weight. More than two years had passed, and I was already considering moving up in weight. When I faced him again for the European belt, I was quite drained—I hadn’t eaten, I couldn’t see the punches coming, but I could feel them! [laughs]. I felt sluggish, so I lost, and he deservedly won the title. Later we fought a third time in Bologna, and they called it a draw. It felt like they gave him a bit of help, but that’s how the judges saw it.
As European bantamweight champion, you delivered several outstanding performances—from the last-minute win against Juan Francisco Rodriguez to dominant victories over England’s John Feeney and Spain’s Esteban Eguia. Which of those fights do you hold dearest, and why?
The one with Rodriguez—he had competed in two Olympics. But I was really strong at that time, and he kept running away. He practically refused to engage. Against Eguia, everyone had me losing. It was tough early on—he cut my eye in the second round, and he was tall with long arms that kept me at bay. That’s when I realized I had to close the distance and punch when I got in close, because I was more powerful. So I closed the gap, hit him to the body first, then upstairs, and finally knocked him out. It was a great fight, even though everyone had picked me to lose.
Your move to featherweight led to an exciting all-Italian showdown in Camaiore against your fellow countryman Loris Stecca—a fight many thought you’d lose but turned out to be closely contested and thrilling. Looking back, how do you feel about that decision, and what do you think you were missing that night to bring home the European title?
The headlines the next day said: “The judges say Stecca wins, but the crowd says Nati.” Loris always attacked against others, but against me he ran. There’s even a moment caught on film where his wife shouts “Run!” while he’s in the corner. Deep down, I feel like I won, but he already had a signed contract for a world title fight against Leonardo Cruz, so he couldn’t lose. The referee kept breaking us up whenever I had him cornered—it was all decided in advance. After all, his manager was Branchini, who I think was one of the best in the world. I had my neighbor Giorgio Bonetti. When I couldn’t find any more amateur opponents, he said, “Let’s try turning pro and see where it takes us.” And off we went. Later I realized he couldn’t take me beyond the European level, so we parted on good terms—he never stopped showing up to cheer me on. But with Branchini, I realized we could’ve gone further.
After the brave but unlucky trip to Belfast to face the fearsome puncher Barry McGuigan, you went on a streak of 14 consecutive victories, albeit with no titles on the line. Some of the opponents during this phase of your career were quite respectable, from England’s Billy Hardy to Colombia’s Ruben Palacio. Why did it take over three years to get another title shot?
I had joined up with Branchini, but Branchini was already managing the Stecca brothers. So in a way, I was breaking down the walls, and they were walking through them. Whenever there was a tough fight, it was always me taking it—even though they were both great: Maurizio was an Olympic champion, and Loris was at his peak. But I got the tough ones. There were boxers who went the distance with Maurizio or Loris, but against me they didn’t make it past the fourth round…
After the brutal KO you suffered at the hands of Zaragoza, many considered you finished…
I went into that fight without eating, and in my opinion, what they did to me was all planned. I was already struggling to make weight, and at the last moment they postponed the bout by fifteen days. On the original date, I had made weight and felt strong, but after spending another fifteen days maintaining a weight class that already didn’t suit me, I was like the walking dead: the first clean punch he landed put me down. They said the delay was because he had a leg injury and stayed in Mexico. By the time he arrived here, I was already KO’d.
Still, you never stopped dreaming—and eventually you won the WBO world title in Teramo against American Kenny Mitchell. After four fierce rounds, the cuts caused by his headbutts forced you to stop, resulting in his disqualification. What’s your take on the protests from Mitchell’s team about the referee’s decision?
If he hadn’t been disqualified, he would’ve been knocked out, because I was landing the right hand on him every time. When he got close, I stepped back and caught him clean—he was feeling those shots. The headbutts were intentional—you can see it clearly on video. Every time he slipped a punch, he came back up with his head. He realized he was going to lose by KO and tried everything to avoid it. Some journalists said I could have continued, but the truth is, I wanted to continue because I was sure I’d knock him out—he was taking heavy shots. Mitchell had beaten Julio Gervacio, who was a real champion, so he was a strong opponent. But I had studied his videos well and already knew he would be vulnerable to my right hand, my left hook—and that he’d go down.
After hanging up the gloves, you stayed close to the ring as a trainer and achieved further important milestones, including leading Italy Thunder to victory in the World Series of Boxing final in London. What are the things that bring you the most joy nowadays?
I trained a lot of successful Italian boxers in Riccione. The Federation believed in me and let me work there, and I helped raise many champions who had long-lasting careers—among them Clemente Russo. I trained many young athletes and worked as a coach for many years, collaborating with Patrizio Oliva, Franco Falcinelli, and other great names from our history. As for the rest, I have a gift—or maybe it’s just luck: I know how to heal horses. Some newspapers wrote headlines like “Valerio Nati, former world champion, horse whisperer.” I treat their hips, legs, cervical spine—I do a bit of everything. When I walk behind them, they don’t kick me; with my system, I’m able to calm and heal them. Some of these horses were destined for slaughter—I’ve already saved nine. So it’s more than just luck. There’s a riding school near Forlì where I enjoy volunteering. They organize events for children with disabilities, including those with Down syndrome.
Thank you so much for your time. Would you like to add a final message for our readers?
I’d like to say that I became world champion also thanks to my fans, who always supported me. I’ve had so many over the years, and even today on Facebook, they still show me their love. I sincerely thank each and every one of them.