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!