The Final Chapter

After the fight and all the congratulations in the arena I headed upstairs. I called my Mum and told her that all was OK. Whilst talking to her I got a little emotional. The last 8 weeks had been tough, both in the ring and outside of the ring, and the fact that I'd made it through was a little overwhelming. After I put the phone down and washed my face I went to the red teams room to find Ben. He was in the bathroom tending to his cut and I thanked him for the fight. We agreed to meet downstairs for a proper chat. I quickly showered and changed and went to have some fun with everyone and try and catch the end of the last fight.

The number of people, complete strangers, that stopped and patted me on the back was incredible. Those of you that know my ego will also now realise I was in my element. It was so good to walk into the room with my head held high having not disgraced myself and having proven that I could do this.

The rest of the night was one big party. I partied with my staff, my friends, the other fighters well into the early hours before heading home in anticipation of the pain that would await me on Saturday.

This whole experience has been phenomenal. The level of respect I have for anyone who puts the gloves on and goes into any ring is unrivalled and the benefits I've gained from the last 8 weeks far outweigh the pain, tears and blood that I've shed in this period.

I will continue training. I will continue supporting John, Zack and their boys wherever and in whatever way I can and you never know one day I may well lace up the gloves again for another go in the ring!

A friend of mine sent me some lyrics to a song called the Boxer and I cannot find a more suitable way of ending this experience than with those words.

"In the clearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his trade and he carries the reminders of every glove that laid him down or cut him til he cried out in his anger and his shame. I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains. Yes he still remains"

Fight Time

Throughout the night, sat in room 707, boxers came, full of adrenaline and pride, quickly relived their fight to us that were still waiting, got dressed into posh frocks or smart suits and disappeared. The pressure was getting to me. I was now in full gear and Isaac had wrapped my hands really well. The fight before mine featured Gavin. He had broken a rib 3 weeks ago and was fighting with it strapped up. They called him down, we hugged, I wished him luck and off he went. I knew I was next and I was now all alone in the room. I went into the bathroom, closed the door, saw someones blood on the walls of the shower cubicle and was sick into the toilet.



After composing myself I went back into the room, put some loud music on the stereo and started to dance in front of the mirror. Now was the time. If I didn't relax and try my best I'd regret this forever. I had a lot of friends downstairs that were as nervous as I and I owed it to them and to myself to do my best. The music and the dancing calmed me down and I was ready.

Saeed came into the room and I hit some combinations into his hands. He then said we have to leave. I gave a quick prayer to ask for some divine support and headed for the elevator. By the time we got to the entrance area Gavin's fight had finished. I tried to keep calm.

The announcer called our fight but instead of my name he called Ben's and Ben's music started. Ben was ushered in front of me and was rushed out first. All I recall of that moment was that Bob Marley was playing and all of Zack's boys were LOVING it. They were dancing and singing. I also recall one of the ring girls had lost her pink phone and was asking everyone in sight if they'd found it, she even offered a reward of 1000aed! I came away from the entrance area to try and get some space and keep some focus.

Then it was time. All I heard were the end of the ring announcers words....... "...Brown Sugar Moooooosa". Sean Paul started singing and off we went. As I stepped into the arena the noise was incredible. The politeness of earlier in the night had disappeared and a booze fuelled atmosphere of noise and fun had taken over. I did not want to rush this moment. We walked slowly to the ring, around it and to my corner. I saw friends everywhere and I felt remarkably calm. Another quick prayer before entering the ring and then I was in. I danced to the centre, looked Ben in the eye and gave him a wink. He looked focused and unruffled by the whole situation. Either this bloke was tough as nails or the best poker player in the world.

The first round was a blur. I knew that after we touched gloves at the beginning he'd try an overhand right. It was something Richie had said in training a few weeks before and as he was in Ben's corner I knew he'd try it. As we touched, I stepped back and his right missed everything. It felt good. It felt like I thought about the fight, planned something, executed it and it worked. Zack and all the trainers had told me to jab and step back for the first couple of rounds and engage in the third. That's exactly what I did. I'd hit him, step back and watch his massive right hook swing in front of my nose. The whole first round was like that and it felt incredible.

The second round was more of the same. However halfway through the round he caught me nicely on the jaw. It didn't hurt and it gave me the confidence to go forward. I decided the next time the big right came over I'd go forward and attack his body and head. Once again it worked. I don't think I hurt him but I know I got a few nice uppercuts that made him think.

Into the third. At this stage I felt fine. My fitness was good and I felt strong. Once again I jabbed but this time I didn't see one of Ben's big rights. It caught me across the jaw. It hurt. A few days back Zack had mentioned seeing stars and that it was common. I saw stars. I was still thinking though and I had planned to just grab him as he came forward. He didn't come forward and it gave me those few seconds I needed to get my composure. With the very next exchange I threw an uppercut. Bizarrely I heard the commentator say, "and Musa misses with the uppercut". I knew I didn't miss and the cut that opened up on the bridge of Ben's nose proved it. It looked quite bad and blood was gushing immediately. We exchanged a few more punches and then Zack came between us. He told me to go to a neutral corner. I could see him shaking his head and saying that he had to stop the fight. I could also hear Ben saying that he didn't want it to be stopped. Zack did well, he ran the clock down to only a few seconds to go, brought us to the middle of the ring, said Box, and the then the final bell rang.

What an experience. What relief. We both hugged and thanked both sets of trainers before receiving our trophies.

The Early Fights

As I was being dropped off at the hotel around 6.30 all I could see were dinner suits and posh frocks everywhere. It felt weird that I was entering this environment in a pair of tatty jeans, a black tee shirt and a bag slung over my shoulder. I walked towards the door and was met by a hefty security guard who wanted to usher me away. "I'm a fighter" I said. Just saying the words felt weird. He smiled and immediately took my bag off me, pushed me in front of all the suits in the queue and accompanied me to the lift. The blue team had been given room 707. Everyone was in the room when I arrived and there was a real sense of nerves being hidden through humour, music and chat. The first fighter to go out was going to be Dave and he was already dressed, wrapped and warming up. Following him was Meike. I had already decided that I'd watch the first 2 fights before coming upstairs to prepare for my bout.

After catching up with everyone, giving Dave and Meike a big hug and meeting our corner guys I went downstairs to the main hall to find my table and guests. The place was packed. The ring in the centre looked so much different to the one I'd seen earlier in the day during the medical. Our table was ringside and was right next to the blue corner of the ring, a perfect location.

There was some general chit chat and I was wished luck and asked how I feel a thousand times. The truth is my nerves were out of control. I was drinking as much water as possible to keep hydrated in the hot room and the I just couldn't stop thinking about the fight. I saw Ben, my opponent come into the room and head towards his table. He looked relaxed, smiling and quite hard!

The first fighters came in to loud music and polite applause. At this point everyone in the room was sober and the atmosphere was quite muted. Dave got into the ring looking completely focused, as did the guy he was fighting, also called Dave. For 3 rounds they stood in front of each other and punched and punched. It was terrifying. Both noses bled from the first round and it seemed to go on forever. At the end of the fight our Dave had probably done more of the good work and won the fight, but what an incredible show.

Next was Meike. She is quite possibly the most stylish boxer in our team and her fight with Stephanie was always going to be good. She came into the arena with her husband and friend behind her pumping the crowd into a frenzy alongside some really loud hip hop music. This seemed to relax Meike as she danced her way around the ring. She looked great. Stephanie bravely stood in front of her for all three rounds. She caught Meike a couple of times with good, hard jabs but she was well and truly beaten over the course of the fight. I felt so good for Meike. She was always first in training. She always wanted to learn new techniques and most of all she's such a fine lady.

By this stage my heart was racing a thousand miles an hour. I couldn't stand being in that room any further and so I said my goodbyes and headed upstairs to room 707.

Countdown

It's nearly 5pm on fight day. We had the medical this morning and all went OK. My blood pressure was a little higher than I'd wanted or expected but I guess that's just the nerves acting up! My bag is packed, my new shiny white shorts are tucked inside, I've had a steak, tuna and pasta lunch and I've even had a couple of hours sleep this afternoon. It turns out that my fight will be on around 11pm and so there's still a long long time before Sean Paul starts singing.

I'm going to head out of the house at about 6.30 and I'll spend the time before the fight in the Hotel room with my corner men and bowl of blue m&m's!

I don't think I can type anymore.

Time to Just Relax

I've just come back from a session in the gym. We only did a few minutes of shadow boxing and then spent the rest of the hour talking about Friday. Zack keeps mentioning the fact that my opponent has been training hard on countering my jab with hard body shots. It got me nervous and made me tense up. I need to relax. I need to keep my shoulders loose and my emotions calmer than they are now. Zack did however also have a great remedy for overly tense boxers on the night......2 aspirins and a glass of red wine 30 minutes before the fight....I'm beginning to REALLY like this guy!!



I've decided to have another session hitting some pads tomorrow. At this time of night, with Bones on telly and with a million things going through my mind I think it will do me good to have some light punching tomorrow. I've also booked a sports massage for tomorrow night and by that I mean a sports massage....not a massage for sport! I'm hoping the combination of release of aggression against a padded hand and the firm pressure of the Angsana Spa Massage team should help focus me on what I can do instead of what the other guy may be able to do.

I'll be glad when Friday night is out of the way. I'm really looking forward to boxing training without the fear and pressure of actually boxing. I realise this sounds weird and it sounds like it shouldn't make sense but believe me if you ever get the opportunity to have this experience you'll know EXACTLY what I mean.

On a more positive note Zack also told us that we'd have a couple of his team in our dressing room to get us exactly what we want. As I'll be in the room from 6 till 10 before I fight I've started amusing myself with stuff I can ask for......a bowl of M&M's with all colours except blue removed, a magnum or two of Cristal and I've even considered sending one of the younger guys out to find me some chicken lips just so I can time how long he looks before giving up......harsh but fair I feel!!

Round One To The Red Team

In a bizarre setup last night we were put in front of our opponents in the training ring. Due to some issues within the group of trainers it became necessary to have a draw for the corner men that will look after each team on the night. Zack put us in two lines facing each other and then 2 from each team drew names from a hat. Unfortunately Richie, who both teams wanted in their corners, will be in the Red corner and we have 2 others from Zack's boys. It's disappointing because Richie has been training us since the beginning but there's nothing we can do about it now.

To compound this loss we then tossed a coin to see who would be first in the ring and who would come out second. We had wanted to come out second so that we spent as little time in the ring before the first bell as possible. Unfortunately we lost again and we will come out first. So, not a great start for the Blue team! Richie was really disappointed and tried to persuade Zack to change his mind but what's done is done. It's heartening that he really wanted to look after us on the night and I bet deep down he'll be cheering for us more than his own red team!

In the end it doesn't matter who wins random tosses of coins or draws from hats. What matters is who wins in the ring on Friday night. The first round outside of the ring goes to the Reds but the important rounds inside the ring are still a few days away and we don't plan on losing those.

The First of 15 Minutes of Fame....

That's it. The countdown has begun. Yesterday afternoon was spent in a gym in Karama being photographed and filmed for both the on the night footage and also for a feature on Dubai One TV last night. There was a great deal of posturing, snarling, bag hitting and 10 or 15 minutes of hitting pads in front of the camera. I'm not sure about the rest of the team but I found myself grunting a little more and pounding Richie's glove with a straight right harder than I have done in any other training session. I know this is the case because today my right hand aches and I even broke skin through the glove and through the wrap! The TV feature was really good and although I've appeared on local TV before this is the first time I've been on without my other two chins!

In the end once a showman always a showman. Whether its the Cowboy sketch in the Reps Cabaret in Maggaluf when I first worked overseas or punching a bag in a sweaty gym in Dubai, put a camera in front of me and I can't help but show off. I remember Mr. McGowan at Wesham C of E primary school calling me a show off and me feeling indignant at the time....how right he was. Still, I have my concerns about male primary school teachers but that's a completely separate blog! I sincerely hope that the 1000 people in the room on Friday night have the effect of bringing the showman out and giving me that extra step or that extra lung full of air.

Anyhow, only 6 days to go now. I'm more nervous than I've ever been about anything before but at least this time next week it'll be over. My foot will be loose and my fancy will be free to eat what I want, drink what I want and sleep late when I want. However if I'm REALLY honest, when this is all over, will I not miss the remaining 14 minutes of fame this next week will bring?

Penguins and Guilt!

Having not shut up about my body fat index for the last couple of days Aiveen told me off today for wanting a bit of chocolate. She quite rightly pointed out that I’d soon become Fat Naz again if I carried on thinking like that. She also quite rightly mentioned the fact that as a diabetic this wanton lust for chocolate probably didn’t help my blood sugar! So I listened to her. I chewed away at my supplement bar, giving me all the protein and carbs I need but tasting like cardboard and air, and I quickly forgot my cravings.

However, after I got back from training tonight a full pack of Penguin Biscuits appeared in our kitchen!! I haven’t seen Penguins since I was a kid back at home and even then they were always in the “special” secret biscuit tin alongside the Breakaways and the Wagon Wheels for when important guests came around. A treat from the secret tin (not actually that secret really – it was hidden in the cupboard under the sink) was the highlight of the week and really only happened on a Sunday evening and if Nottingham Forest (my dad’s team) and Man City (Mum’s team) both won.

So, imagine my glee when in my own house, in plain sight, purchased with my own hard earned cash, there were 20 penguins!!!!! Training went well, 9 days until the fight, blood sugar under control I thought sod you Aiveen, I’m having a Penguin.

My God they are good. The final squeeze of that last mouthful out of the packet reminded me so much of happy, carefree times when all that mattered was that you’d done your homework, you were in the team for Sunday’s match and your dad didn’t find out who really broke next door’s window.

After all of the work I’ve put in to the last 7 weeks I think I deserve a little treat to myself and what better way than to pi…pi….pi….pick up a penguin once again!

Lean Mean Fighting Machine? Well Almost!

Normally I hate anything that resembles a medical. Growing up the son of a doctor that may sound strange and if I think back I really don't think the dislike of check ups started until I reached Dubai. It's since I landed in this Desert Disneyland that I've begun to treat medicals with the level of disdain I usually reserve for vegetarians. The reason is clear. Here in Dubai they make you have a HIV test before giving you the right to live and work here and although everyone is 100% sure they are OK, there is still that little devil that sits on your shoulder reminding you of possible past indiscretions. That first test, 4 years ago, changed me for what I thought was the rest of my life. The subsequent one last year was less traumatic but you do still wonder about that ropey barber shop in Karama you once used for a 10 dirham shave and haircut with a blunt razor.

Anyhow, this week I think all of these fears disappeared. I actually requested a check up from Ronnie at the gym. You see I'm feeling great. I had my best session of sparring on Thursday night where I did everything Zack told me to do and kept all the bad men from punching me. I then had another couple of strong gym and circuit sessions and I thought it would be interesting to see what the events of the last 5 weeks have actually done to my body. The change is incredible. Firstly, when I took my top off Ronnie didn't laugh (see earlier note "Ronnie Austria"). In fact my core strength (muscles in my gut and lower chest) has increased by 40%. My arms have increased in strength significantly, my legs have lost their fat and become much leaner in muscle, I've lost about a kilo but the amount of this 85kg of weight that was fat has decreased massively. The most impressive movement has been in my Body fat index. This has gone from just below 25% to just below 14%! Now I'm told that professional body builders have less than 3% but if we're honest they are just freaks. I am also told that pro footballers are around 14%.......United here I come!! This is obviously where I've been going wrong for so long, it's not my footwork or ability, I've just been a little fat!

I've just come back from another sparring session and once again I felt really comfortable. Its now 12 days until the big night and I'm hoping that I can time my peak of fitness and mental stability just right. I have 2 more nights of sparring and a week of gym sessions before we stop and work on the mind for the last 5 days and so we are definitely entering the home straight.

Whatever happens on the night of 6th June I now feel so much better, fitter, stronger, more confident and down right harder than I did when I first received John's call on April 1st. The trick is going to be relaxing and getting through the fight and then keeping this Brown Sugar body after it's all over.

The Important Stuff - Name & Music!

Following the sleepless night, beating, worries and fears earlier in the week I'm pleased to say I'm back on track. So much so that I think I've finally found my fight name and my entrance music! Let's start with the thought process. If I'm learning anything from this time it's that when it comes down to fight night its really all about me. However much people support you before and during the fight there is really only one person throwing and receiving punches. With that in mind it's important that I'm comfortable with everything surrounding the process.

I've had SO many suggestions about a fight name. "The Dark Destroyer", "Razamanaz", "The Sudanese Assassin", "KO Killa" are just not true and profess to a level of pugilism that I just don't possess! Some were just silly (and I have to say quite funny), "(Cry) Baby Face Musa", "Muzarable Fuckha" and my personal favourite, "The Love Bloat". For obvious reasons these were none starters!

Then, earlier in the week a mate suggested "Brown Sugar". I love it. It's respectful to some of histories greatest fighters, Joe Louis (The Brown Bomber) and Sugar Ray Leanord. It reflects my MASSIVE ego and I can think of some great music from great bands that surrounds it....D'Angelo, Rolling Stones, Mos Def, Little Richard and even ZZ Top. I mentioned it to a few people who in turn questioned the "hardness" of the name alongside the fear that it may be a little effeminate. I of course ignored them (see ego above) and it's now stuck. I've even found a logo!!

Now for the music. Once again every suggestion around the kind of music I like, Hip Hop, R&B and Reggae, talked about killing this, beating that, blah, blah, blah. One thing is for certain, I won't need pumping up before the fight. The nerves and the adrenaline will take care of all of that! I want to come into the ring listening to music that makes me happy, that makes me want to dance and will keep me calm. I've therefore decided to come into a Sean Paul tune from his Trinity Album. The song is called "We Be Burnin" and it always makes me bounce....!

"Every day we be burnin not concernin what nobody wanna say, we be earnin dollars and sterling coz we mind be on we pay.... recognise it, we pimpin as we ridin"

Brown Sugar & The Thunder From Down Under - June 6th 2008.

Is this worth it?

I've just had without doubt the worst 24 hours in this whole experience. Last night I sparred with Jerome. Jerome is fighting as a heavyweight on the night and is probably 20kg heavier than me. I fought 3 rounds and got hit pretty hard on more than one occasion. My nose bled from the first round until the end of the fight and my legs could hardly move at the end of the session. Now, I realise I fought someone bigger and stronger than me but my issues are with me and not with Jerome. I should have jabbed and kept out of his way but I didn't, I stood there and took it.

After training I drove home and sat in the bath for far too long thinking things through. I then couldn't get the whole experience out of my head. I spent the whole night watching crap telly whilst pretending to try and sleep. At 4am I had, in my head, already decided that enough was enough and I didn't want to get up in front of all those people and get humiliated. I felt sick and I was ready to quit.

What's worse is that I knew my alarm would go off at 5.15 and suggest I get up and go to the gym. It's difficult to find anything positive from this experience. I did get to see an epsiode of Dr.90210 on telly in which a bloke who had an inverted penis had an operation that allowed him to consummate his marriage (he was a 49 year old virgin). However, as incredible as this was I'm afraid it did nothing to placate my anger and fear.

Thankfully I must have dosed off and when the alarm rang 45 minutes later I decided to get up, dress and drive to training. Richie was fantastic. I don't know whether he knew I'd be pissed off or if he just saw it in me. He, quite rightly, highlighted that I took some big punches from someone much, much bigger than me, I didn't stop coming forward and I lasted all 3 rounds. It made me feel so much better and began to rebuild my confidence. Even though I hadn't slept all night I had a decent training session and quitting disappeared from my mind. Richie won't be reading this but I'll make sure that when this is all over he realises the affect he had on me and on my mindset. For someone so unassuming he, and all of Zack's boys, are such interesting characters and I bet they don't know how much they are changing people around them.

I now want to see "that" Dr.90210 episode again. I feel I could do it more justice without Jerome's right hook replaying in my mind every second.....!

Confessions of an Old Man

So, it's been a big week. Firstly since the last entry I've been in London, Mallorca and now back in Dubai. I had to unfortunately leave the training regime for a strategy meeting in Spain. To be honest I think it did me some good. Although I used the gym in the hotel every day and I, quite rightly, flaunted my new low fat Naz look around the pool, it was good to get away from the intensity of the daily boxing gym training. I've just returned from my first sparring session since I got back and I feel much better for the rest.

This week I also turned 37. I have to say birthdays never really affect me but this one seems to have done. I guess when you're 36 people say, "That Naz, he's in his mid thirties" but at 37 its definitely "Oh Naz, he's in his late thirties." LATE THIRTIES. How the hell did that happen? I can remember seeing Jeremy Welsh's next door neighbour scratching his arse when he was 18 and we were 12 and thinking, "Bloody Hell I wish I don't get that old." I remember when my Mum turned 40, just 3 years away now for me. I remember my first snog with Susan Hoyle, JESUS, that was 25 years ago....25 YEARS!!!!! I know, I know, I should stop whining. 30's are the new twenties and 40's are the new 30's but to be honest that's just bollocks. It's bollocks perpetuated by people in their 30's and 40's...not by those having a fantastic time in their 20's. Lets be REALLY honest 37 is now middle aged. I have spent years listening to people in their early 50's calling themselves middle aged. My dad said he was middle aged at 56. I don't know anyone who is 112 years old...I didn't tell him that at the time. However, 37 makes my life expectancy of 74 very realistic.

As you can see I've thought too much about this. Unfortunately it isn't just reminiscing about that night on Darrel's balcony when Susan Hoyle took advantage of me ( for note she also then took advantage of me in the cloak room of the Grapes in Wrea Green 4 years later in honour of that first snog). I think the real reason I'm feeling my age is the fact that I found out this week that the guy I'm fighting, Ben, is the son of a bloke I play golf with. How crap is that? Either he's so young that his dad is an active member of today's golfing society (shut it!) or I'm so old I'm playing golf with a bloke who has a son old enough to beat me up in front of 1000 people.

As you can see it's been an emotional roller coaster. One minute I'm rested, feeling strong, preening in the Spanish sunshine, the next I'm forced into the realism that I'm getting older. Although, for my age, I consider myself a rock star. The new reality is I can party as hard as the next man as long as I'm in bed before the sun rises, I then get at least 8 hours sleep and I have a spa treatment booked the day after. That may make me middle aged but hey, at least I'm not like those old fogies who are 38!!

What A Difference A Rest Makes....

I'm just back from my evening session of training and sparring and what a difference a few days makes. It's been 2 days since the last gym session and it's incredible what a little rest can do. Instead of the drubbing that I got earlier in the week and the fatigue I felt in the gym for the subsequent sessions, today I felt good. The pre-fighting circuit training felt good. For once the sit ups, the press ups, the squats, and the running didn't make me collapse in a heap of sweat and (almost) tears. The ring work then went well and I sparred a round with Zack that really built my confidence. I'm still convinced he could have taken me out at his will but I moved well, I jabbed well and most important of all I didn't fear his attacks in any way. A second round sparring with Tony was far less controlled and felt like a bar fight but, even though he caught me a couple of times, nothing worried me.

As I had written about in my previous blog this game is really all about how your mind works. The part that is brutal and physical can be taught and can come with hard work in the gym, but this isn't the most important part. It's all about how strong you feel in your head. Any doubts that creep in raise a level of fear that does nothing more than make you slower, less aggressive and more vulnerable. I learnt this the hard way earlier in the week and have learned well from that lesson.

This week Zack also told me who I'd be fighting. Gone is the German (not sure where but I like to think he heard about my skills and bottled it.....WHAT?, that's probably what happened!). Instead I'll be fighting an Australian bloke called Ben. Here's what I know about him. He's very fit, he's about 4 inches shorter than me and he's been training for about 3 months more than me. So, there goes the "everyone equal" premise of this type of boxing, but I'm not going to let than worry me. He'll go for my body and try and get close which means my Jab is going to be key, and the fact that he's super fit means I'll have to work on my endurance. I've got 4 weeks until fight night and now I know what I have to focus on.

I trust Zack and I trust that he wouldn't put me in a position where I may get hurt but I'd be lying if I didn't say I'd prefer to be fighting an 80kg midget with one leg that I can just beat up in front of the 1000 people in June. I'm also convinced that would make much better entertainment...imagine he could bite my knees while I punch the top of his head. I could keep a glove on his head while swinging my leg like a pendulum into his groin as his punches fall about a foot before my body. He could run at me and slide between my legs before headbutting me on the arse......now tell me that isn't entertainment!!!!

OK, time for bed now. It's nearly 10pm and the alarm will ring at 5.15am for another session of sweat and Ben prep!

The Mental Aspects of Boxing

I have known from day one that a great deal of this sport is in your mind. It's easy to say that. It's easy to theorise about what you should do and what you shouldn't. Tonight I learned the hard way how important your mind is. There are so many difficult things happening in my world at the moment and today I let it affect me in the ring. With a million things going on in your "normal" life it's important to try and stay positive irrespective of how tough things are. Today this didn't happen. Today I doubted myself and for those that no me that doesn't happen that often. If I'm honest I doubted myself outside of the boxing environment and I let unrelated events play on my mind. Believe me I paid for it. I found the warm up tough. I found boxing drills slow and powerless and I only sparred one round, in which I was well and truly beaten up by Zack. My hand hurts and my nose still hasn't stopped bleeding. I'm not sure you can get a better lesson on how important your mind is than my state today.

I'm not sure that this is the reason I started this blog. I don't really want it to be a forum for a rant or a moan by a beaten up Naz. However I do want it to be a true reflection of how I'm feeling during this whole saga. I'd like to think I'll read this in 6 months time and there will be a good mix of good times and difficult times but I'll be able to take something positive from the experience as a whole. It'd be interesting to hear my Dad's analysis of my mind at the moment (he's a psychiatrist) but that would mean I'd have to tell him what I'm doing and he'll beat me harder than Zack did tonight!! Perhaps I'll ask him to read this on June 7th and diagnose me then!

Here's what I've learned from today. I CANNOT let stuff outside of boxing affect me as much as it has today. I CANNOT allow emotions and doubts cloud my thoughts and my belief in myself. Finally I CANNOT let Zack, or anyone else, keep punching me in the nose without at least throwing something back to show him he's fighting a man not a boy.

There is something raw, wild and unyielding that occurs when you step into the ring and face up against your opponent. It's now clear to me that preparing for this requires more than physical preparation, it also requires spiritual strength, or what some people call heart.

It's now nearly 10.30pm. I will wake up in 6 hours and head to the gym again. There is no way I'm going to waste this opportunity to better myself, I know, deep down in my soul, I can do this and however much it hurts today, inside and out, it isn't going to stop me in my tracks.

Who's That Girl?

The ladies that are on our team are fantastic. They are the first at every training session, they work out the hardest and, if truth be said, we men are fully aware that they could actually kick the crap out of all of us in the ring. Gone are the days when women only know about fluffy kittens and baking, these girls are solid (although if either is reading this and they actually do know about fluffy kittens - I apologise before you beat me up!). The technique that I can see in their sparring is exactly as it should be and everything seems very controlled. When we blokes spar and one catches the other all hell breaks loose (see Eamon gets angry!). Thursdays sparring was a little more controlled but there is still that inherent male ego that just loses it when we get tagged. I guess it's all about control and, like many things in this world, although we men think we are in charge, the actual control sits elsewhere!

Fight 2 .... Eamon gets a little angry!

And so it begins.

Earlier in the week I had the first chance to fight in a full contact sparring session. Dave caught me with a powerful left hook into the ribs that I'm still feeling 3 days later. Last night however the fear disappeared a little and I fought twice. Attached is the first of the fights. As you can see I could breathe for the first minute or so but then luckily (sorry Gavin) Gavin had to stop with a bloody nose.....another 30 seconds and I'd have cut myself to ensure I could rest!!! Unfortunately there was no rest and Zack put Eamon straight into the ring and I had to carry on....I'll upload that fight too. Both will need to buffer for you and make sure the music is loud as you watch!!!

By the way I also have a great video of the girls fighting but as they look SO much better than me at this lark you'll never see it!

The Real Mr. Austria

When my buddy Paul sent me a mail and asked if I'd join him and the Swiss management team to look at their business in Zurich I had no hesitation in accepting. When he then said that we'd have part of the meeting in their office but the last 2 days in the Austrian Ski resort of Ishgle it was just icing on the cake. You see although I ski like a 60 year old blind man and I snow board like his dad, there's something about being in the mountains that is just special. So I packed my bags, excused myself from boxing training for a couple of sessions and promised Zack that I'll do some altitude training in the mountains. The plan was genius. They can ski while I run and do press ups in the thin air! It almost worked too! I impressed everyone, not least the hotel owner who had to open the doors at 6.30am, when I got up early and ran on the first morning. At this stage we were still not on the piste but in the resort and so I thought running would be a doddle. About 75 meters later I was out of puff. It was incredible. I literally ran for about 10 minutes before walking back to the hotel gym where I posed in front of the mirror for about 30 minutes more. I later found out that the resort itself was at 1500m and so there was no real shame was there?!!

That day up in the mountains I decided to snow board instead of run but after a couple of falls I thought it best to step off the board and walk / run on the second day. This proved easier said than done. I did enjoy a particularly beautiful and energetic walk down the piste after taking the lift up but when I decided to run it became clear that my body wasn't really as fit as I'd hoped. I ran for less than 30 mtrs before losing all ability to breathe. The rest of the afternoon was spent in the caf with a comforting hot chocolate nursing my battered ego.

If nothing else the break gave my body some time to rest after quite an intensive 3 weeks of training daily......that's my excuse for doing very little and I'm sticking to it!

Curry and Crunches

For many years now I’ve considered myself a tough northerner. Ultimately up north we think we’re different. We’re harder, flintier, and steelier. We’re the ones that turn the air conditioner down in the meeting room, who want to sit outside the pub in Manchester in December, who order the hottest curry and who wear the slightest tee-shirts in the blistering winds of Blackpool in the winter. Ok, nowadays we play up to this stereotype occasionally and for us traitors that have since moved south (as far south as Dubai) we occasionally like to remind people how hard we are and how soft the southern Jessie’s truly are. Even the most sophisticated of Northerner who now lives in the sunshine, who owns a Gaggia Cappuccino maker and has sun dried tomatoes in his cupboard, fundamentally harbours an inner barbarian with a molten core of prejudice that sometimes just likes to pop its ugly, flat cap covered head, out. So, when the training regime changed this week and I checked my diary to see how it fits against my work schedule I shrugged my shoulders and said hey ho, I’m hard and I can handle it.

The new schedule meant that I had a 6pm ring session last night that ended at 7.15pm, a dinner with an Irish colleague that started at 7.30pm and then a 5.15am start this morning for a fitness and ring session until 07.00am.

We decided to go for an Indian meal in the Marina. This was a mistake. At midnight as I was tucking myself in for my 4 ½ hours of sleep before the gym I could feel the Lamb Biryani and the Dal Makhni whispering warnings of the trouble to come. I made it out of bed to the gym on time and into about the first 15 minutes of the session. And then it started. The curry sweats. The gradual rise of spiciness up my esophagus. The dread of the thought of puking in the middle of this hard man’s gym. I pushed as hard as I could, I smiled manfully at Richie as he made us run some more, punch some more, skip some more. I wiped off the pools of sweat around me and I busied myself by trying to think of anything but Indian food. But then words I could really have done without. “OK, on your backs, and give me 25 sits ups, 25 leg crunches and 25 ab crunches.” To compound this he made us do push ups in a wheel barrow style with someone holding your ankles.

The pain was unbearable. Normally Indian food can cause the worst cramps possible but compound this with what I went through early this morning and the hard man was broken. When he finally said “OK give me 5 laps of the gym and then warm down” the food was literally at the back of my throat. I swallowed hard, smiled dutifully, jogged 5 laps slowly, and then went into the bathroom to taste my curry again. It’s not as nice second time around.

The lesson is clear. Curries and Nan bread = good. Curry and crunches = very, very bad.

Super Maid

The maid has lifted the punch bag out of the car by herself and left it in the hallway.

I don't want to talk about it.

The Sport of Warriors

After a few false starts, last night I finally got into a ring and started actual boxing training. You'll notice I said last night. The plan was that I'd write a note about the training when I got back but I really couldn't. Everything tightened up and I ended up just sat in the bath for an hour. I also needed to be up and in the gym by 7.30 to meet up with Ronnie. Boxing training will now be every Monday, Wednesday and Saturday at 6am and then again at 6pm - 6 sessions a week. I'll then be with Ronnie in between and have Fridays off.

The first thing to say is that I was SO happy to see the boxing gym. We live in such a sanitised environment in Dubai, with everything shiny, clean and new and I had thought the gym would also fit into this Dubain mold. It doesn't. It's a dirty, smelly, testosterone filled den of blood and sweat. As you walk in the sound of gloves on leather and loud rap music engulfs you and gives you an extra step. There are no niceties for a new boy training for a one off fight in an environment of tough men who either train for fights or could fight if push came to shove. Within a minute of being in there Zack, my new boxing trainer had me skipping "until I tell you to stop". He didn't tell me for ages! This was followed by running laps around the gym, press ups, sit ups, crunches and other painful exercises aimed at warming every inch of your body.

Then they gave me my kit. However lucky you are in life with possessions or finances it always feels nice to get something! In my kit bag were a pair of Blue Lonsdale gloves (told you they were the best!), some hand wraps and a head protector. It was then time to get in the ring for my first go at punching. It's not easy is it?! My trainer was a short, incredibly nimble bloke from Ghana called Richie. He showed me the correct stance and we began with left jabs. Lots and lots of left jabs. Then Right hooks, then left jab right hook, then double jab, right hook then 4 combinations then 6 combinations....you get the picture by now I guess.

Ring training is in fight conditions and so you train for 3 minutes, a bloke rings the bell and you rest for 30 seconds, he rings it again and another 3 minutes punching. It went on like this for about 30 minutes by which time I could hardly lift my 18oz gloves let alone left jab or right hook. The final bell rang and Richie said "well done, now get on the floor and give me 50 sit ups". If he wasn't so hard I'd have kicked him.

For the first time since the saga started I'm getting the feeling that I'm going to enjoy this. I wish I could explain why. Last night punching Richie's padded hands hurt so much it's indescribable. The risk of someone else hitting you hasn't even entered the training yet and so that adds that extra bit of spice to proceedings. Having said that I loved the boxing gym. It was a room filled with Men, with a capital M, who, for whatever personal reasons, feel the desire to box.

I read an article on the psychology of boxing this week and in it the author states that "boxing is not a sport you play. It's a sport where you can get hurt. Boxing is a sport for warriors, those that are strong both mentally and physically. We will all face fear and doubt but with dedicated training and experience we learn to quell these feelings. When fight night comes the wait in the locker room is enough to break the average man. Most men have never been involved in a fair one-on-one fight. Most have never been punched in the face. For this reason, most cannot comprehend the feeling of sitting and waiting to do battle with another man, whose soul purpose is to knock you out. He has sweat and bled in the gym for one reason, to hand you defeat. You must face this challenge alone. Your friends and family can only watch from outside the ring."

Today I hurt. Part of that is due to the boxing last night and part due to Ronnie this morning, but you know what, today I've also realised that I can actually do this. No one is going to stop me and no one is going to get in my way. The sport of warriors has a new son, at least for the next 9 weeks.

PS: the punch bag is still in the back of the car....Dave hurry up and come back to Dubai will ya!!

Just wait till I hang you up....

I've just got back from my second session with Ronnie. I'd love to say it got easier but it really didn't. Today there were no niceties of skipping and rowing. As a warm up he had me running fast at 12.9km/hr (not sure why 12.9 and not 12.8 or a round 13!) for 10 minutes! It was then straight onto weights, weights, weights and more weights. To end on a jovial note he then decided on sit ups and ab crunches and reverse ab crunches and this HORRIBLE thing where you lie face down and just lean on your elbows and keep your body off the ground for 45 seconds. I'm typing with 2 fingers and these are the only things that I can actually move at the moment.

However, the pain of today, the knowledge of tomorrows impending pain and the fear of Saturdays 10am session with Ronnie are not really my biggest issue at the moment. I seem to have a bigger problem. You see I thought that it would be a good idea to buy a punch bag. I therefore ventured into Go Sports who, for some unknown reason, are currently having a boxing equipment promotion! My in depth knowledge of boxing (actually its because I read the hotel brochure in Lord Lonsdale's Spa where I stayed in the Lake District last year!) made me aware that Lonsdale equipment is the best boxing stuff money can buy and so I opted for their biggest and meanest looking punching bag. Having chosen a particularly colourful set of yellow boxing gloves that not only look good alongside the bag but match my favourite training vest (shut it!), I forked out my cash and 2 of the shop staff carried the bag onto a trolley and into my boot.

That was 3 days ago. I can't get the bastard out of my car. I can't lift it and I've got too much pride to ask any of my neighbours. I'd hoped the Gardener could help me this morning but to be honest I don't think he could actually lift the gloves let alone the bag.

It's a problem and the only mate I have that I think could actually lift it is in the UK for another week. I'm considering just leaving it there and punching it as it lays in the back of the jeep, that'd teach it a lesson!

Anyway, if anyone is passing Cluster 45 in Jumeriah islands and wants to help out please knock on the door, speak to the maid and I'm sure she'll give you a hand where she can....I'd love to help but my two fingers are pretty knackered after all this typing!

I'll give you more if you cry.....

Sometimes stuff happens that really makes you proud to know the people you do. Yesterday I sent a mail to a select number of my friends, family and close contacts. I'd decided that a good cause to raise money for with the fight would be the orphanage we support in Sudan and a good aim would be $4000 in order to build and equip a new ward for 12 babies. Within 2 hours of sending the mail the $4000 had already been reached and exceeded. It really is incredibly touching and I can't thank everyone enough. Obviously now we need to aim for 2 wards!!

So that y'all don't think I'm turning into a soft southern git I thought I'd better just caveat these comments with my favourite responses that I received yesterday.

Firstly Paddy came up with the double sponsorship technique - $30 for the fight and an extra $50 if I knock him out!

Then Stuart wanted to know if he still had to pay if I died!!! Nice!

Favourite of all was Daron's genius of target based sponsorship. $50 to fight, another $50 if I pull his shorts down in the ring, another $50 if I kick him, $100 if I bite his ear, $50 more if I make him cry, $100 if I cry......etc etc. It's absolutely brilliant. I can't wait for my next bonus setting meeting with Daron!!

Seriously, guys and gals, thank you so much. Thanks to your generosity all of the pain and all of the aching bones will at least now mean that some kids are going to have a little bit of a better chance of life.

Ronnie Austria

I had every intention of writing a note about how cool the name of my trainer is in my normal sarcastic manner. I'd spent all day thinking of stuff to write but honestly I can't. Let's start at the beginning. After my experience in the gym last week I decided to attend a Boxercise class. It taught me two things. Firstly, I'm not actually that unfit. My cardio exercise abilities are just about the way they should be for my age. Secondly, there is a part of my conditioning that seriously needs some work, namely the fact that I punch like an 80 year old asthmatic grandma (with arthritic hands). It's clear that this slight shortfall in ability may leave me open for criticism in the ring and so I needed to build some strength. I therefore decided to hire the services of a professional personal trainer to build me up. I looked around the gym, chose the hardest looking trainer, told him my predicament and thankfully he agreed to work with me (for a small fortune each day!). Then he told me his name was Ronnie Austria and my afternoon was made.

Today was my first session with Ronnie. He started by conducting a set of tests that basically proved what I thought, I'm not that unfit but any excess weight I'm carrying is basically all fat and flabby. When I took my top off he laughed. Bastard. He said we have to focus on building my core (read, lose the flabby gut) and strengthen my arms. And then it started. Running, press ups, sit ups, weight lifting, rowing, skipping (yes skipping!). It was an hour of absolute hell. He pushed me to my very limit, a little bit past it and then re-booked me for 5pm on Wednesday to do it all over again!

After he pulled and stretched me to revive my aching limbs. I sat in the changing room for about 20 minutes. I stood in the shower for 15 more minutes and then I tried my hardest to lift my arms into my shirt before hobbling very slowly to my car. Where I sat for 15 minutes more.

I know I'm going to really struggle to get out of bed in the morning and that everything will hurt even more than it does now but the fact that I have to do it all again in 48 hours is scaring the shit out of me. As the Fine young Cannibals once said (almost) "Ronnie, I'm sorry won't you let me stay at home?"

PS: If you click the title you should see Ronnie, he's not one of the women or the bloke in the funny costume but the guy on the right with the "I'm gonna break Naz look" on his face.

Why all the mirrors?

Today I got a text from John telling me formal ring training won't start for another week due to a delay in the equipment that's coming from the UK. I decided that it was time for me to start to get in shape even if the punching part will only start next week and so I skulked back into Fitness First with expired membership card in hand.

Now, to their credit, they didn't laugh as they scanned the card that undoubtedly showed that in its one year of validity I came in about 4 times and three of those were probably to sit in a steam room. Instead the chirpy Filipino seemed genuinely pleased to have me back amongst their flock. I signed what I had to sign, paid what I had to pay, and ventured into the dressing rooms. I'm not a gym aficionado but I really wonder if every gym has the same number of mirrors as this particular one. However ashamed you are of your slightly flabby (SHUT UP) ageing body, with every turn there it is staring right back at you. I'm assuming the mirrors are there for the masses of well groomed and tight bodied Lebanese blokes instead of us pie eaters that hail from Blighty.

I quickly got dressed and, eyes down, I marched into the gym. Now, the trick is trying to look like you know exactly what you're doing - even though it's clearly evident from your body that you're not exactly a regular. A stretch here, a neck roll there and I was on the running machine. With Ipod blasting with Hip Hop music and towel stylishly placed around the neck I astonished myself with a 20 minute run. My pleasure was tarnished by the fact that the girl running on the machine in front of me, who was there when I started and was there when I stopped, didn't have a drop of sweat on her body hugging Lycra, whereas my blue banana tee shirt could quite easily have come straight out of a swimming pool (a stinky, sweat filled pool at that).

I convinced myself that she'd had a revolutionary sweat gland removal operation, rolled my neck, stretched my legs and took my sweaty, flabby and tired body back into the dressing room, only to have it shame me with every turn........oh dear god, WHY ALL THE MIRRORS?!!!

I Have A Dream.....

I'm writing this in the bedroom of a very flash hotel in Dublin. I'm lucky enough to be on a Fam trip of North and South Ireland and last night we went an exploration of Temple Bar and its various activities. Suffice to say today I hurt. That pain however is not the reason for writing these few words. Since "that" call from John last week I haven't really thought too much about the boxing. In my mind the experience doesn't become real until I start training and that's a few weeks off yet. However obviously subconsciously it's affecting me. In my 4 hours of sleep last night I dreamt about the fight and more importantly about my German opponent. Predictably he was blond and tall but the guy in my dreams also had a scar and a tattoo on his neck. Now, I'm pretty sure an advertising executive in Dubai won't have a tattoo on his neck but this shows how your mind can play tricks on you. I can't say I'm that nervous yet but I do think I'd better start focusing on getting ready. With that in mind I've decided that I'll use the train journey to Belfast to choose the music mix that I'll come into the ring with.....that'll show the German who's boss!

WHAT? - It's a start isn't it?!!!!!!

But I'm on my way to Burger King.........

So today it happened. I was just pulling into Burger King near media city and my phone rang. The guilt of my impending fast food almost made me ignore the call and the fact that I didn't recognise the number allowed me a level of justification in just hitting the busy button. Something however made me answer.

"It's me - John" said the voice. It didn't sound like any John I know and there was an accent that I wasn't sure of. "Oh John, how are you?" I lied.

"I'm great", he said "and I've got some fantastic news....it's D Day and you've been chosen to fight at Fight Night 3". I giggled. In retrospect that possibly wasn't the most manly of responses but it came from a sudden inner realisation that someone was going to hit me in front of 1000 people. He continued "I can't tell you who you'll be fighting but all I can say is he's a year older than you, an inch taller than you and 5kg heavier than you, oh and he's German. Plus he's an advertising executive and all of the training and fight will be filmed for a German TV program and so you'll be as famous as David Hasselhoff in Germany."

Lots of things passed through my mind, not least that its not fair that he's bigger than me (I'd hoped for a fat midget), that my mum would kill me if she found out what I was doing and that I bet he didn't use the D Day line with him.

I didn't go into Burger King.