”I’m a boxing wonder,” says Themba Nkuta. ”I have surprised a lot of people.” One of them is his mother who tried her best to stop him from taking up boxing 12 years ago. But he now counts her as one of his biggest fails. ”She’s encouraging me the whole way,” says the 23-year-old bantamweight who won his pro debut recently.
Nkuta was born with a deformed right arm. Not only is it half the size of his powerful left, but he is unable to raise it above waist height. This means that he has just one offensive weapon, and has to fight with his guard permanently down. ”So aren’t you permanently open to a left hook,” I ask. ”Try,” he says with a smile. Three hooks later, with his jaw still well out of range, I realise I should have taken his word.
Nkuta relies on split-second reflexes, an unusual level of agility and, where necessary, a hard head. Not surprisingly his left hook and jabs are devastating but he is also learning to use the right to throw a useful dig to the stomach. By twisting his body around he is somehow able to put surprising power behind the deformed arm. ”I’m now starting to use it for close up body work. Solly Selebi is teaching me to be two-handed,” he says.
Selebi, his manager and trainer, has been with Nkuta for most of his fighting life. One of the most dedicated trainers in the game, Selebi does everything he asks his fighters to do – except the sparring. That is the time when he wants his men to show no mercy. They work out in a small community hall in Meadowlands, Soweto, where they train without the benefit of a gym, punch-bags or speedballs. When one of the men is trapped against the brick wall, or trips over the chairs in the comers, it is his job to get out of trouble – and his opponent’s business to keep him there. ”Go for his head,” Selebi shouts to undefeated featherweight prospect Eugene Khanyile, who is sparring with Nkuta.
It is Nkuta’s job to get his head out of the way. No allowances are made for his handicap. It is the rigour of this kind of approach which ensured Nkuta had one of the most successful amateur careers in the game. In more than 20 fights he lost just 10. In 1984 he won the SA black title, and two years later he was runner up for the national title. He became national champion in 1988, won his di¬ vision in the SA Federation Interstate Garnes and won his Springbok colours when he represented South Africa in Paraguay.
For the past three years he worked on the Kloof Gold Mine as a physical training instructor, but he has now graduated to the status of a full-time boxing pro. He made his debut in June when he out-boxed Lucky Mafikeng in fine style over four rounds. He says that in some ways his handicap can be turned to his advantage. ”My opponents all think they’re going to have an easy time, so they concentrate on my hand and forget that I’m a top boxer. My left hook is my best punch and I scored plenty of knockouts with it”.
Training under Selebi, in one of the best stables in the province, gives him plenty of opportunity to cross gloves with top fighters. Among his stablemates are undefeated Transvaal lightweight champion Abram Gumede, top junior welter-weight contender David Potsane, welterweight contender Mbulelo Ndlazi and former amateur star Eugene Khanyile. Three weeks ago, while the men were hard at work, a teargas cannister was fired through the window of their overcrowded gym, causing some of the fighters to collapse from asphyxiation. ”I saw guys in uniform driving away,” said Selebi, pointing to the broken window. ”I’m trying to keep my guys off the streets and then they do this kind of thin.”
Selebi, who has frequently spoken out against the white hierarchy in the game, just shakes his head and gets on with schooling his aspirant stars. ”Solly’s an excellent trainer – one of the best in the country”, says Nkuta. Together, he believes, they can make it all the way to the South African title, and beyond. ”I don’t know how long it will take but I think I’ll be there. I’m aiming to be SA champion, maybe even world champ. ”I’m going to surprise a lot of people,” he says with a knowing smile before climbing into Potsane, who just happens to be 11 kg heavier.
This article originally appeared in the Weekly Mail.
