Late last month poor Franco died on his own in Rugby. He was just 51. He had a heart attack one afternoon in his tiny room at a sheltered housing facility. The boxer was a long, long way from his Ugandan home, but just a few miles from his old family home in the Warwickshire market town. The journey Wanyama took from Olympic hopeful to his solitary death is a winding tale of promises, hope, expectation, isolation and inevitable failure in the boxing business.
Wanyama turned professional in Belgium the year after the Olympics, winning seven of his first ten fights. During the first four years of his career he met and beat Carl Thompson and Johnny Nelson, both held British titles and would hold versions of the world title. In 1994 he won the Commonwealth cruiserweight title when he beat Tony Booth in Waregem. In 1995 at York Hall in London’s east end I saw him lose a Commonwealth title fight.
In Detroit in 1995 he was matched with Tommy Hearns, but the fight collapsed at the last moment and Wanyama accepted a fight against Jimmy Thunder, a ranked and respected heavyweight at the time; Wanyama gave away 30 pounds in weight and won on points. He had to take the fight or risk not getting paid, risk going back to Ghent without any money.
There are endless heartless tales in this business of boxers returning home from foreign fights with short-end money or no cash.
In 2000, he finished his career with 20 wins from 29 fights, but had started a serious and brutal second career as a paid sparring partner, working in Florida, Las Vegas and with the Klitschko brothers at their retreats in Germany and Austria. It can be boxing’s forbidden planet, an unregulated world of hurt where men get paid to suffer.
Lucy lives in Rugby with Wanyama’s three children, in a house packed with family pictures of weddings, happy days and graduation photographs of smiling daughters. I’m on the sofa, ten days after Wanyama was found, trying to put together the lost life of the fighter.
“We had a lovely house in Ghent, three storeys,” Lucy said, but in 2007 the family packed up and left Belgium for the Midlands. Why? “We moved to England because there was a promise of a good job training fighters. There were many promises.”
At first the Wanyamas were put in a nice house, a house with a jacuzzi bath, but there was no hot water, no sustainable job, no real hope and then they started to suffer. Wanyama and his family soon vanished inside a filthy system, they were moved from house to house, grubby bedsits, bed and breakfasts and on the way had all of their belongings stolen.
Their pride remained, even under constant assault and setback. Wanyama worked when he could, teaching boxing in schools, setting up a gym, getting a British Boxing Board of Control licence at one point to train boxers. He fell just a bit short each time and at home the vicious fighting in his head started to attack him, he was just another boxer left on his own to deal with the mess inside his skull.
It was a distressing time, Franco was losing touch a day at a time. Six or seven years ago Wanyama urgently needed special care and help. It was at this time, that Lucy and Franco had to split. He was starting to be extremely difficult to live with and they decided it would be best for both, and for the children, if they split. He was damaged, they both knew that, but they had no real idea what that really meant, or what might happen.
After the split there is a dark period in poor Franco’s life as he adjusts to living on his own, tries to control his boxing demons and live a normal life under abnormal circumstances.
It is painful to imagine the last years for Franco Wanyama, his boxing career over, family estranged, new business ventures ruined and health slowly taking a fatal toll, without feeling utter pity.
Adapted The Independent
