KELLIE MALONEY on naming her peacock after Eddie Hearn, why Tyson Fury is a ‘has-been’, the pitfalls of Saudi cash and YouTuber boxing and the ‘awful’ backlash she received after transitioning

Kellie Maloney was one of British boxing’s most influential promoters and managers, guiding fighters like Lennox Lewis to world titles and helping shape the sport for more than three decades. 

After transitioning in 2014 – and changing her name from Frank – she stepped away from the spotlight, leaving behind the industry she had devoted her life to. Now, after years of silence, she no longer cares who she upsets by speaking candidly about what boxing has become.

So, when she agreed to sit down with Clubhouse Boxing for her first proper interview in years, it was always going to be explosive. 

Within minutes, she was tearing into promoters, ridiculing YouTubers, questioning Saudi influence and dismissing British boxing’s biggest fight as an empty spectacle. 

By the time breakfast arrived, Anthony Joshua and Tyson Fury were ‘has-beens,’ Eddie Hearn a narcissist, and boxing reduced to nothing more than ‘theatre with blood’. Here’s what the 73-year-old had to say…

Daily Mail Sport finds Maloney in rural Portugal, far removed from the world of packed-out arenas and fight-week hotels. Rain hammers down in sideways sheets, soaking everything in seconds, but Maloney just laughs, shrugs, and bundles us into a car. Breakfast is at her local cafe, the sun breaking through briefly as three steaming English fry-ups arrive. Over coffee, she begins dissecting a sport she barely recognises.

‘Boxing is not what it was. It’s been ruined by all these crossover fights,’ Maloney says. ‘Boxing has become more about entertainment than the actual sport. It’s like theatre with blood. 

‘You’ve got YouTubers fighting on Mistfits boxing that are showing the sport up. Every Tom, Dick and Harry is wanting to box but they’re just not capable. Yet they’re getting on these big shows and doing the sport a disservice. Joey Essex is an example. He’s got a huge following. But, I mean, please, come on.’

After we’ve eaten we head to her farm. She leads us across wet ground to meet the animals she keeps, introducing them with the affection of someone who has traded volatile heavyweights for something more predictable. 

Three enormous pigs – Trotter, Del Boy and Rodney – snuffle in the mud. A peacock struts past, chest out, feathers trailing behind him. ‘That’s Eddie Hearn,’ Maloney says, smiling, ‘because he always likes to show off and loves himself.’

Nearby, a vast male turkey stalks like a nightclub bouncer, aggressive and alert ‘That’s Frank Warren. Bullish and ballsy.’

The scene feels as absurd as it is amusing. And it says everything about Maloney’s opinion on boxing’s power brokers. ‘Say what you want about Frank Warren, but he is the only true boxing person out there now,’ she continues. ‘Sorry Eddie, but you’re not. Your dad was much better than you.

‘Eddie’s much more into the entertainment side of it. He’s brought boxing into the entertainment world rather than furthering traditional boxing. He’s done great deals, made great money for his fighters, so you can’t be annoyed at that. But it’s not good for boxing. 

‘Eddie likes to be the star. I don’t think promoters should be the stars. The fighters should be the stars. Whereas Eddie doesn’t see it like that.’ 

Maloney’s criticism stretches beyond the face of Matchroom Boxing. Saudi Arabia’s money may have brought promoters together, but she sees it as a marriage of convenience that will collapse the moment the cash dries up. 

‘Look, you have to take the money because that’s your job. But I would take the money holding my nose, seriously,’ says Maloney. ‘Everyone is trying to say it’s good for the sport because it’s brought promoters together, but it’s a marriage made on money.

‘Frank and Eddie are only working together because of the money, and once it dries up, they’ll divorce. Plus, boxers are going to get used to these higher prices and they’ll have to match that.

‘I don’t really agree with the British Boxing Board of Control allowing British title fights to happen in Saudi. I’ve watched certain fights and there is no atmosphere. How can they allow two fighters, fighting for a British title, Lonsdale belt, in Saudi? 

‘Half the fans can’t even go because they can’t afford the airfare. Gone are the days when fighters earn the right to fight for world titles. Some are fighting for world titles after 12 fights. It’s ridiculous.’

But it’s the stories she hears from the bottom that rattle her the most. Fighters risking their lives and not being paid. 

‘I personally know two fighters that haven’t been paid,’ she reveals. ‘They’ve had two fights, and they’ve not received a penny. 

‘This is the most dangerous sport in the world and you’re not even going to pay them for doing it?’

Even the fight Britain has obsessed over for years, Anthony Joshua v Tyson Fury, earns no respect from Maloney.

‘This is going to upset a lot of people, but AJ vs Tyson Fury doesn’t really mean anything any more because they’ve both lost their world titles,’ she says. ‘It means something to the British public and the promoters because it generates money. 

‘But to real boxing fans, it’s two has-beens fighting each other. They aren’t the fighters they used to be. It’s just two losers fighting for no titles. Pure boxing fans want more than that.’ 

We head into town – Sao Bras de Alportel, a quaint corner of the Algarve – for lunch at the Love Shack, which Maloney swears by because it stays open late and serves cocktails as well as food. Sandwiches arrive, beers follow, and conversation drifts from boxing to life.

For all her fury at what the sport has become, boxing is still stitched into her identity.

‘I feel like Frank Maloney is still part of me,’ she says. ‘He’s still part of my personality. When we talk about boxing, he comes back, he’s totally back in my life. I’ve had to bring the two personalities together, bringing the best out of both to create who I am today. 

‘It’s hard to explain. Frank was Jack the lad – Union Jack suits, parties, strip clubs after every fight. Then I’d sit on the end of my bed after everyone else had called it a night and just cry. In the morning I’d put on a suit and go out and entertain the world. I don’t do that any more. You’re seeing the real person now.

‘I actually think if I’d transitioned earlier, I would have been a better boxing promoter, because I wouldn’t have had all those internal struggles going on inside me all the time.’

Telling the boxing world was another fight altogether. ‘There are certain people who won’t accept it,’ Maloney reveals. ‘A couple of promoters made some very derogatory comments. My old friend Barry Hearn said when he heard, he was on top of a mountain and could have fallen off. That was quite funny. Barry, I can understand that.

‘But some others said awful things on YouTube and then, three days later, the videos disappeared. I don’t know if that was my lawyers or if they realised how bad it was. Everyone’s entitled to an opinion, but what matters are the people in my life. That’s my family.’

And for Maloney, telling her family was the most difficult conversation she had to have. ‘It was very hard telling my three girls,’ she admits. ‘And telling (my now ex-wife) Tracey was hard too, because it broke up my marriage. But we’re still very good friends. We still go out sometimes as a family for dinner. They’ve accepted it. We all just get on with our lives now. There’s no point letting it damage our family bond.’

There were moments, she admits quietly, when she nearly didn’t survive long enough to have that life at all.

‘I attempted suicide a couple of times. A lot of people don’t know this, but I actually ended up in a psychiatric hospital here in Portugal after attempted suicide. You don’t want to go there. It’s not a nice hotel to check into. It was the lowest and darkest point of my life. I can’t explain how difficult it was.

‘But I think it was the shock I needed. It made me realise if I carried on the way I was, I wasn’t going to be alive for the people who need me.’

Her daughter Emma now lives nearby, on land where she rents out three villas to tourists. We stay there, listening to rain drum on the roofs at night. Maloney speaks about friends, local football matches, and a life built carefully away from the chaos she once inhabited.

It is a world away from Las Vegas arenas and London press conferences, from contract disputes and title belts. Yet even here, among pigs, peacocks, and Portuguese rain, boxing has not loosened its grip. Maloney still watches. She still cares. And she is still angry.

Modern boxing, in her eyes, is louder, richer, more visible than ever and poorer in the ways that matter. And when Kellie Maloney finally decided to speak again, she made sure the sport heard every word.

Interview courtesy of Clubhouse Boxing, powered by Betway. 

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