LESSONS FROM THE PROFESSOR
Kenneth Bouhairie tracks down the legendary Azumah Nelson in Accra, Ghana, where he now operates as a promoter
THE final press conference for the Oluwaseun Wahababraham Osei Bonsu bout drew an unusually large crowd at Accra’s Best Western Hotel. As highlights of the local rivals played on the large projector screen, the audience’s eyes remained fixated on a diminutive figure seated at the long table. Ghana’s chief export is gold but Azumah Nelson might be her most prized treasure.
“I wouldn’t put my name on something if it wasn’t good,” Nelson told the crowd. “These are boxers I chose myself and I believe you will see a great fight this weekend.”
I was surprised to learn that the “The Professor” was now The Promoter. When I first met Azumah seven years ago, he shied from public appearances, channeling his energy toward the foundation he created for underprivileged children. I hounded him for several days before he granted me an audience. Nelson’s home rests in New Achimota, a quiet suburb of Accra. Soaring palm trees lean over his high gate and walls, blocking the eyes of curious passers-by on the busy side streets. Except for engraved boxing gloves on each of the patio’s red flower pots, nothing about the modestly-sized dwelling suggests that the most popular athlete in the nation’s history lived there. When we met in 2010, he hadn’t changed from his fighting days; not the cherubic face, nor the mischievous eyes nor the deliberate gait. Even with speckles of gray dotting his goatee, he appeared youthful. We discussed his career, and the promotional and managerial issues that plagued much of it. Early in his retirement, he worked with local fighters and grew frustrated at his inability to instill in them the same work ethic he had. Azumah still loved the sport but his experiences made him cynical. “It took forever to crack his shell,” recalls Heta Hema-mann, Nelson’s partner and head of Hemann Promotions. “Azumah was promoted by guys like Don King, so he’s very careful about who he lets into his inner circle. When he does let you in, you understand why. There isn’t a dishonest bone in his body.” Hema-mann, an Adviser at Sahara Mining Corp., met Azumah through David Harper, a long-time friend of the two and one of ➤
THE BOY DODGED EVERY PUNCH AND BEAT ME UP SO BAD. I GOT HOME AND DECIDED TO FIX MY MISTAKES”
the great ambassadors of Ghana boxing. Both pitched Nelson on the idea of promoting. And despite his hesitation, Azumah felt compelled to help revive Ghana boxing. Together, they created Azumah Nelson’s Fight Night, a quarterly show featuring some of the nation’s best talent. Nelson is not a figurehead. He handpicks each fighter on the cards after thorough scouting. He’s toured gyms in Ghana’s many towns, searching for a younger version of himself. But that’s easier said than done. Azumah’s unique desire to excel is in his DNA. He’s a direct descendant of the Tabon people; seven families who were taken to Brazil as slaves. In 1829, they bought their freedom and returned to the land from where they were taken.
The Nelsons settled in the fishing town of Bukom, breeding ground to most of Ghana’s greatest fighters. As the story goes, a nine-year-old Azumah stumbled upon two kids fighting. The younger kid was crying because the older had taken something from him. Azumah went home and pleaded with his father to take him to the gym so he could defend those who couldn’t stand up for themselves.
His first sparring session was an inauspicious display against a smaller sevenyear-old.
“The boy dodged every punch and beat me up so bad,” Nelson says. “When I got home, I realised some of the mistakes I made and decided I was going to correct them. I fought him again and he won again, but not as bad as the first time. I kept improving until no one could beat me at that gym.”
Nelson was 50-2 as an amateur and turned pro at 21 in 1979. He fought out of Accra until earning enough to relocate to the U.S. in 1982. That July, he received a call from Don King to fight the legendary featherweight champion Salvador Sanchez. He readily accepted, having less than two weeks to prepare and only 13 pro bouts.
“The day before the fight, someone stole my mouthpiece,” Nelson explains. “I bought a new one but it didn’t fit so I used a blade to cut some off. That left sharp edges on it. I soaked it in hot water and hoped for the best. In the seventh round, Sanchez hit me with a left hook and blood just started coming out of my mouth.”
Sanchez stopped Nelson in the 15th round of a nip and tuck battle, but the boxing world took notice of the young upstart. Prospects and contenders steered clear of him. Nelson had to wait two more years for another title shot; he capitalised on it, stopping Wilfredo Gomez in Gomez’s native Puerto Rico.
“To me, it’s easier when you fight somebody in their country,” Nelson says. “There is no pressure for me so he is the one that is thinking about performing well for the crowd.” He defended that title six times before moving up in 1988 and winning the WBC super-featherweight belt. In 1990, Nelson, then 32-1 (24), moved up again to challenge lightweight champion Pernell Whitaker. Two days before the fight, he received a call from home telling him that his wife Beatrice had terminal cancer and didn’t have much longer to live. “I wanted to pull out. But it was too close to the day. My mind wasn’t there when I fought Whitaker. I just wanted to go home.” “Sweet Pea” used his younger legs to keep his 32-year-old opponent at bay and win a close decision. Beatrice’s death remains a touchy subject for Nelson. Though devastated, he continued to fight. In June 1991, Azumah (now 33-2) met undefeated three-division champion Jeff Fenech (25-0). Nelson boxed early but Fenech’s frenetic assault kept him on the ropes for long stretches of the bout. The Australian’s pressure climaxed in a nearko of Azumah in the 12th. Their breathtaking battle was marred by a draw verdict most
I HAD TO CUT THE MOUTHPIECE AND IT LEFT SHARP EDGES... BLOOD STARTED COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH”
thought Fenech deserved. “You know, Jeff is still stewing over the decision,” I remind Nelson.
“Yes, I remember him jumping and down in joy when the fight ended,” Azumah laughs. “I had malaria when I fought him. I thought I could use my experience to win a decision but he was tough. When they announced a draw, he and his team were so upset. I told them, ‘Don’t worry, I will give you a rematch anywhere you want.’ If you can’t beat me when I’m sick, how can you beat me when I’m well?”
The rematch took place in Fenech’s native Australia, where 37,000 braved the rains at the open-air Princes Park football ground in Melbourne [right]. Nelson silenced the crowd by dropping Fenech in each of the first two rounds. Undaunted, Fenech pressed forward, pinning the champion against the ropes as he’d done in their first encounter.
“I had planned to knock him out in seven rounds,” Nelson recalls. “I told my brother to shout before the start of the sixth so I could set Fenech up. But he forgot. When I learned we were going to the seventh, I realised I had to use that round to set him up and finish him in the eighth.”
The end came at the midpoint of the eighth. Nelson, seemingly trapped against the ropes, sprung out of his crouch with a thunderous left hook. Two more lefts followed by a right sent Fenech sagging to the mat. Fenech was still wobbling when he rose; Another Nelson right convinced referee Arthur Mercante Snr to stop the fight.
The Fenech win ranks as Azumah’s career best. In all, he defended his 130lb title 10 times before retiring in May 1994. He returned to the ring 17 months later, reclaiming the superfeather title one month shy of his 38th birthday. He was inducted into the Hall of Fame in 2004.
Nelson’s career as a promoter is off to a promising start. The Wahab-osei Bonsu bout delivered the fireworks he promised. Betting favourite Wahab eked out a split decision over Bonsu. While many in press row crowed over the winner being “exposed,” I remembered what “The Professor” told me only two nights before, words that he’s no doubt already imparted to Wahab. “Even before you heard of my name, I had been in a lot of tough fights here in Ghana,” he said. “Those matches prepare you for your future. And it was those matches that showed me what it takes to become a champion.”
IF FENECH COULDN’T BEAT ME WHEN I HAD MALARIA, HOW COULD HE BEAT ME WHEN I WAS WELL?”