Sugarboy Malinga has always had the talent to make it to the top, but circumstances always contrived to prevent him meeting his destiny — until last weekend
BOXING: Gavin Evans
THERE are times in the self-contained little universe of prize fighting when the whole thing seems no better than a crass charade; and then there are times when, for all the sport’s pretentious nonsense, the players manage to transcend the boundaries of their brutal profession.
Last Saturday night was one of those better times — especially if you were one of the tiny minority of the 10 000 in Newcastle Arena who was aching for Thulane “Sugarboy” Malinga to do what everyone else regarded as the impossible: destroy the “Dark Destroyer”, Nigel Benn.
Malinga arrived in town as a 36-year- old at the wrong end of his career, with debts up to his ears, a wife and four children to feed, and no other viable means of staying afloat. He left as a world champion, a soon-to-be millionaire and a man whose sense of destiny had finally been fulfilled. He had done his bit for his God, his president and his wife, just as he promised.
Sugarboy’s tale is one of extraordinary promise beaten down for too long by circumstance, victimisation and bad luck, but finally, right at the last moment, being magnificently realised. Had he been born 15 years later like his talented stablemate Cassius Baloyi — – his passage to glory would have been a less painful one.
With his marvellous natural ability, stunning good looks and his quick wit, this handsome son of Ladysmith arrived with all the ingredients for stardom — except that the white-controlled South Africa of 1981, when he turned professional, wanted “golden boys” (pink ones, to be precise) and delivered them ad nauseum.
Thulane, the nephew of a talented welterweight champion, Maxwell Malinga, usually did his best under the circumstances, but lacked the training, guidance, and promotion needed to break through. He wanted to be the best at fighting, so he started out with karate, then followed Maxwell and soon discovered he had the reflexes, time-distance co-ordination and rhythm to do well.
He won 185 of his 195 amateur bouts before turning professional at the age of 21, when he opened his account by stopping Victor Zulu in the first round in Durban. A disputed points loss to Patrick Tshabalala in his fourth outing was the only blemish on his record for the next six years and after less than 18 months he had already acquired the skills to outbox Samson Mohlai to take the South African middleweight title.
Eventually, in October 1986, he sought out a more tasty challenge. Sakkie Horn, the Boksburg traffic cop, was one of the darlings of the apartheid boxing establishment — part of a family whose roots went deep into the white fraternity of the sport. He was also the South African light heavyweight champion. But Malinga fancied the job and lifted the crown. A few weeks later he took on the even bigger Freddie Rafferty, one of the hardest punchers in the business, and thoroughly outclassed him.
Today it seems astonishing that while lesser boxers like the ill-fated Brian Baronet were being courted by the major promoters, Sugarboy was simply ignored. For the next five months he could not get a fight and when the offer finally came, it was to face Sakkie Horn again.
Malinga had become frustrated, his uncle was an inattentive and inexpert trainer and his career seemed to lack focus. There were major faultlines in his style which no one was correcting and his methods of preparation were amateurish. After a close return fight, which most felt Malinga won, two white judges overruled the one black judge and Sugarboy was an ex- champion, prompting him to remark, “Those officials weren’t scoring under WBA rules — it was AWB rules they were using.”
Soon after, a flash flood destroyed his home and he moved his family to Benoni, parting ways with his brother and taking on a new trainer, Willie Toweel. The results were impressive and when he got Horn in the ring again, he left nothing to chance. For 11 rounds he dazzled his rival, landing at will and taking almost nothing in return. But Malinga had not counted on Brigadier Wally Snowball, the Hillbrow police chief and a referee with a penchant for giving black boxers bum decisions. With one minute to go in the final round, he dug in a borderline body blow and Horn, who had a habit of wearing his trunks under his armpits, rolled around in mock agony. Snowball ignored the “no foul” regulation and disqualified Malinga.
But this showing had finally convinced the white promoters to take a chance, and after a trio of victories over foreign opponents Malinga was given his maiden world title challenge, against Germany’s Craciano Rocchigiani for the IBF world super middleweight crown. Overawed by his first fight overseas, he was too cautious and lost the decision. The experience, however, was invaluable, and he returned to put on the finest performance of his career, picking up six fine wins over foreign opponents.
Then, in 1990, he travelled to Columbia to outbox John Jarvis for the IBF’s inter-continental title. Malinga won with ease, but once again was astonished when a pair of incompetent or corrupt judges gave it to the American. He returned home to beat up Horn to regain his South African title, after which Lucky Sakkie retired.
Malinga was rewarded with a second IBF world title shot, but lost a close decision to the American Lindell Holmes. The conventional wisdom was that he was finished and for the next 14 months he had only one fight, in which he boxed the ears off the South African cruiserweight champion, Leonard Friedman.
Eventually, in February 1992, his promoter Mike Segal offered him the chance to challenge for the WBO super middleweight title against Chris Eubank, who was looking for a soft option, but this time Malinga, working under a dedicated new trainer Nick Durandt, boxed superbly, getting off the floor in the fifth round to rock the champion. He lost a split verdict which persuaded Eubank’s rival, Nigel Benn, that he could do better.
But Benn, then a former WBO middleweight champion, had no answer to Malinga’s unorthodox style and was comprehensively outboxed, though at the end of 10 rounds British referee Paul Thomas outrageously gave it to his countryman by half a point. “That was an absolute disgrace,” says Malinga. “The Horn decisions were a joke, but those were apartheid officials. The Jarvis fight happened in Columbia, so what do you expect? The Eubank fight was touch and go, but in 1992 I beat Benn fair and square. I completely outboxed him and had him wobbling in the last round. It was an out-and-out robbery — the worst experience of my career — and I just didn’t expect that kind of treatment from a British referee.”
Benn went on to win the WBC super middleweight title — the most prestigious version of the world title in boxing’s most competitive division — and defended it nine times, including a brutal 10th round knockout against the American world champion Gerald McClellan, widely regarded as the hardest puncher in the world. McClellan left the ring in a coma, and today is crippled, partially deaf and blind (though he thinks it is nightime).
By this stage the slam-bang Benn had learnt to box and was rated as one of the world’s best champions of any weight. He’d been beaten just twice in 45 fights and was undefeated since 1990.
Malinga on the other hand had been going nowhere. After a couple more South African light heavyweight title defences he was stopped in six rounds by the brilliant American double world champion Roy Jones, and then returned home to lift the African and South African super middleweight titles. Surprisingly, he was rewarded with the number one ranking by the WBC (it later emerged the reason was that the organisation made the mistake of thinking Malinga was promoted by its chief benefactor, Don King).
Soon after the fight was announced, Malinga’s close friend and chief sparring partner, the outstanding light heavyweight Ginger Tshabala, was murdered, but Sugarboy retained his focus and trained with an intensity lacking earlier in his career. He sparred 600 rounds, chopped wood and lifted weights to build his strength, and he prayed. Having become a “born again” Christian in 1991, he told me that God had informed him he would win on a fifth round knockout and his confidence was further enhanced when he received a telegram from Nelson Mandela before the fight.
As it turned out, the return was even easier than the first fight. Ignoring the hostile crowd, Malinga kept his distance, moved continually, pumped in his precision left jab and now and then cracked home sharp right crosses. In the fifth he came out to fulfil what he regarded as God’s promise and pounded Benn with an unanswered volleys of punches, but near the end of the round he lost his balance and Benn’s big right thudded home.
Instead of being the new champion he found himself looking up at the arc lights, but he sprang up, smiled and continued with his task. By the end of the sixth, Benn’s right eye was almost closed, he was spitting blood from his torn lips and was unable to catch the phantom in front of him.
Over the last two rounds Malinga rocked him several times and when the final bell rang, Sugarboy seemed to be an overwhelming winner (by 117-112 on my card — seven rounds to two with three even).
There is no accounting for the scoring of boxing judges, however, and when a split decision was announced, I feared the worst. Hawaii’s Chuck Williams gave it to Malinga by 118-109 (10 rounds to one with one even). Then, to the astonishment of ringsiders, it was announced that another American, Chuck Giampa, had given it to Benn by 114 – 112 (seven rounds to five). Finally a score of 115-111 (eight rounds to four) was announced for “the winner and new world champion, Thulane “Sugarboy’ Malinga”.
Benn praised his rival, announced his retirement and then wept, before proposing to his girlfriend in the ring (though a day later, however, he changed his mind about the retirement thing).
Thulane beamed, complimented Benn on being a great world champion, and as soon as he got the chance, phoned home to tell his wife that God’s will had been done, and she needn’t worry any more about their overdraft or his children’s medical bills.
“I kept on asking God to make me a world champion and then he gave it to me with the whole world watching,” he said the following morning. “I tell you, I’m so happy because this is the thing I’ve always wanted, but it hasn’t really sunk in yet.”
Malinga’s next three fights — which will include a title unification bout with Ireland’s WBO champion Steve Collins and possibly a return with Eubank or a “rubber” match with Benn — will make him a multimillionaire and will set him up for life.
Seldom have such belated riches and glory come to a more deserving candidate and to a nicer human being.