Francesco Acatullo had stepped into the ring four times with the goal of winning the Italian Title and fulfilling the dream that had driven him since the very beginning, and four times he had seen that goal slip through his fingers. Many in his position would have given up, turned the page, and sought happiness and satisfaction in other fields. But “Frank the Tiger from Caivano” stubbornly kept chasing his goal and, last month, against all odds, he finally achieved success. A sudden, lightning-fast KO delivered in the first round against the heavy favorite Arblin Kaba—thanks to a devastating right hand—left the crowd at the Orbetello event speechless. Acatullo was lifted in triumph and finally got to hold the Italian championship belt he had pursued for so long.
We reached out to Francesco, who kindly agreed to share with us some aspects of his sporting and personal journey.
Your nickname, very evocative, is “Frank the Tiger from Caivano.” How did this name come about, and when did your adventure in the world of boxing begin?
I was born in Maddaloni, in the province of Caserta, but my parents, grandparents, and all my ancestors are originally from Caivano, in the province of Naples, which is about ten kilometers from Maddaloni. I grew up in Caivano and lived there until I was sixteen, when I moved to Voghera, in the province of Pavia, to join my father who was working there. My parents had divorced in the early 2000s, and in 2005 I moved in with him, also because he had become a father for the fifth time and I wanted to be there for the birth of my sister. In Caivano I used to work as a barber, but when I moved, I started working with my father, who was in the construction business as a tiler—it was mostly a way for me to spend time with him. Later on, he encouraged me to enroll in a training school for hairdressers, and barbering is still the job I do today. During that initial period, to help me manage stress after work, my father took me to the boxing gym in Voghera where the great Giovanni Parisi trained, also because he knew the late coach Livio Lucarno. Boxing has a strong tradition here, since the city has produced several champions. My friends started calling me Frank, and since they said I had “the eyes of a tiger,” after a while my nickname became “Frank the Tiger from Caivano” and it stuck with me for the next twenty years. The first person to call me that was a training partner named Federico.
Tell us a bit about your amateur career. What led you to become a professional boxer?
My amateur career was very intense: I fought often, between championships and various tournaments. I started around 2006–2007 and had about 60 matches, losing 16, drawing 6, and winning the rest. I’m happy with my path: my amateur career wasn’t amazing, but it was solid enough for me to reach the points needed to turn pro. I won the Lombardy belt tournament more than once and several tournaments held in nearby cities: in Como, Cremona, Varese… I was selected several times for national team training camps in Santa Maria degli Angeli and was also called up as a sparring partner to help the Italia Thunder during the World Series of Boxing. I competed multiple times in the Guanto d’Oro and finished second more than once in the regional championships—I never managed to win them because I always fell short in the final. Let’s say that my name, at least here in Lombardy, became known. In any case, after finishing second two or three times at the regional championships and having already fought sixty matches, I developed the desire to become a professional boxer. I placed myself under the guidance of coach Luciano Bernini, who had trained professional fighters in Voghera for many years, and in 2013 I made my debut.
In your third pro bout, you suffered a stoppage loss against Luca Maccaroni. Many would have been discouraged by that kind of setback, but you stayed the course and seven months later, you got your revenge. What did that loss teach you, and what changes did you make to win the rematch?
Believe it or not, just a few months after that loss, I faced a boxer more experienced than Maccaroni—Salvatore Costarelli—and I knocked him out in the third round. Then, after another fight, I insisted on getting the rematch with Luca Maccaroni. That first time, I was in shape physically, but I wasn’t in the right mindset. I underestimated my opponent. I knew I was better than him, so I trained thinking, “I’m going to win anyway.” On top of that, the heat was unbearable: we fought under a marquee tent in Sequals, as part of the undercard for the European Union title clash between Brunet Zamora and Massimiliano Ballisai, during a beautiful event held in memory of Primo Carnera.
I stepped into the ring sure I would win, and in fact, I started out strong. But already in the second round, I hit a physical wall—I couldn’t feel my legs anymore. I took a hard shot and got a count. Maccaroni, who had more experience than I did, took advantage: he jumped on me, landed more shots, and the referee stopped the fight.
As soon as I got back to the locker room, though, I told myself: “I’m not quitting because of this loss. Francesco, get up. Don’t let this bring you down—this is just the beginning. If you want to achieve your goals, you have to accept defeats too.” A lot of fighters don’t have the courage to keep going after a stoppage loss. But as they say, “the one who never gives up is the one who wins.” I didn’t give up, and before long, I got my revenge.
Your career has taken you to many Italian cities, often fighting on your opponents’ turf and sometimes accepting fights on very short notice. This approach—brave but risky—has definitely impacted your results. Why did you manage your boxing career this way?
I went through some ups and downs. I had arguments with my trainer, Bernini… I changed gyms, moved to Milan, to Brescia, to Parma, to Modena… I even went back to Naples, constantly changing coaches. I kind of messed up my career, because I couldn’t make ends meet on my wages alone, and so I had to accept fights that I shouldn’t have taken.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have reliable guidance—neither technical nor managerial—so I was doing things my own way. I managed myself poorly, but that’s what helped me grow. I had both good and bad experiences, and all of them together helped shape me into a more mature man.
Eventually, in 2019, I decided to go back to Voghera to be with my father and start over. I returned to my old gym and once again put myself in the hands of coach Bernini. He told me, “Francesco, if we’re starting over, this time you’ve got to listen to me and do what I say.”
I took charge of the situation and told myself: “I’m a 33-year-old man now. I need to be mature and follow my coach’s instructions—he knows more than I do. When he says something, it’s for my own good. He’s known me for so long, it’s almost like I’m his son.”
We decided to work with Ms. Rosanna Conti Cavini’s promotion, and we began training seriously again. My manager, Monia Cavini, told me: “This contract has to be progressive and successful. Give me a bit of time—I’ll get you some warm-up fights to move up the rankings.”
And that’s exactly what happened. In 2024, eight years after my last title shot, I fought for the Italian title again—this time against Giuseppe Carafa—and narrowly lost on points after a great fight.
One time, you were involved in a rather unusual episode. You had agreed to step in at the last minute as Luca Marasco’s opponent, and you arrived on site on the very same day of the fight, whereas your opponent had already weighed in the day before. What happened then?
[Laughs, Ed.] That was a crazy night. And in the end, I actually became good friends with Luca. I had been called just a few days before the fight and had to travel from Naples to Brescia. It was December, it was cold, and I immediately ruled out driving because I had a car that wasn’t really suited for such a long trip. The only train tickets still available would have gotten me to Brescia at midnight the night before the bout. When I showed up in front of the doctors and the fight commissioner on the day of the match, they told me: “Acatullo, you need to weigh in.” I was a bit worried because I’d already had breakfast and lunch… My manager had told me we had to be under 64 kilos. I got on the scale and I weighed 65.5. I thought: “Oh man, a kilo and a half over!” Then Marasco showed up, and I asked the doctors to weigh him too. I still remember his exact weight: 71.9 kilos! I just burst out laughing, thinking I was supposed to be a middleweight that night. And Marasco, with his Lombard accent, kept saying: “It’s just water weight! Just water!” So I joked and said: “What did you drink, an Olympic-sized swimming pool?”
I still wanted to fight, because I’d travelled all that way and they had paid me my purse regardless, so I felt uncomfortable not going through with the match. But the commissioner decided that the weight difference was too great. So that night, I just played the guest—I watched the card next to Checco from Modà, who was there to support his friend Emiliano Marsili. The next morning I had breakfast, someone gave me a ride to the train station, and I went back home.
Tell us about your dream night—two minutes you’ll never forget.
After the loss to Carafa, I had two tune-up fights thanks to Boxe Voghera and my manager Monia Cavini—two crucial wins to gain ranking points and become eligible again to fight for the title. Originally, the belt was supposed to be contested by Arblin Kaba and Christian Gasparri, but Gasparri got injured three weeks before the match, so I was named as a substitute.
I’m someone who gets up every morning and goes running and trains before heading to work as a barber. Then, after ten hours on the job, I hit the gym again. So I’m always ready, and I was in good enough shape to take on a fight. Still, we hadn’t expected it to be for the Italian title… So in those three weeks, we studied in the gym the surgical shot that would be needed to knock out Kaba and win the belt. My coach told me: “Francesco, we were unlucky last year against Carafa. The only way to shut everybody up is to win inside the distance. We need to fight the first round like it’s the last—get the KO and bring that belt home.”
So during those weeks, I kept telling myself: “It’s now or never. I’ve got to win by KO and come back to Voghera as the Italian Champion.” I got in the ring at 37 years old, with everyone calling me a failure, a loser. They were saying: “Where’s he going? Is he nuts? With three weeks’ notice he’s going up against Kaba? Kaba’s strong—and he’s already beaten him!” But I pretended not to hear any of it. I had to win—at any cost. I deserved it. Years ago, my coach Bernini and I made a promise: that one day we’d become Italian champions. We kept that promise. And that’s our greatest satisfaction—having made our dreams come true, together.
One last question: who was the strongest opponent you ever faced?
I’ve faced a lot of tough fighters. On January 24, 2015, I fought Andrea Scarpa in Bergamo for the Italian Super Lightweight Title. The month before, I had beaten Emanuele De Prophetis—if he had won, he would’ve fought Scarpa instead. But by beating him, I took his place. Everyone kept asking me: “Are you sure you want to fight Scarpa? He’s got knockout power, he’s dropped this guy and that guy…” But I felt ready.
I got the call two days before Christmas—thirty days ahead of the fight—and I said: “In thirty days I’d be ready for a world title shot too!” I had full confidence in my coach Luciano Bernini, and I wasn’t afraid. I stepped in the ring to win.
It was an incredible match, and those who saw it still remember it to this day, more than ten years later—Acatullo vs Scarpa. It was a battle from the first to the last round. Everyone said I wouldn’t last past the third, but I gave my opponent a hard time and made him sweat for that win. I’ll always remember it as the best fight of my career.
In addition to Andrea Scarpa, I’d also name Pasquale Di Silvio as one of my toughest opponents. The fight against him taught me a lot. After that loss, Pasquale pushed me not to give up. He told me: “Francesco, now you start over from here and come back stronger.” When we fought, Di Silvio was 37 years old. Ten years later, I got to live a kind of replay—I found myself in the role of the 37-year-old fighter, getting in the ring and winning by stoppage to claim the Italian title. Pasquale and I still have a great relationship—we spoke just the other day, and he told me how happy he was about my victory. I thanked him because, for me, he’s been a real source of motivation.