For as long as I can remember I always dreamed and worked towards becoming a  World Champion in Muay Thai. Ironically when I won my first World title it kind of summed up my life in Martial Arts. It’s a long and complicated story, and I never tell it because it’s also got a lot of personal implications. However so many people ask me about it, and I feel that I’m betraying my own story and success against everything, by not telling. So here goes…

As I’ve said up until I moved to Las Vegas, I spent most of my career living and fighting in Thailand and the Netherlands. When I used to go back to the UK I’d train with a friend who I taught to hold pads for me (Dutch style combinations) I never really had a coach in the UK apart from myself. We used to train in the club that my older brother ran..it was the original club me, him and a few others originally started in a squash court in Cambridge. Upon returning to the UK one time a new guy has joined the club, we’ll call him “C” because I’m not sure on the laws of naming people, those who know will know who it is. Anyway, he came up to me and immediately said how much respect he had for me with me fighting in Thailand and for Ramon Dekkers etc. He seemed OK, he was older had a London “accent” and had a bit of an attitude that seemed to intimidate some of the people in the club, but was nothing to me. We became friends and got on quiet well. Anyway a year or so later, after another long stint in Thailand and winning quite a few more fights, I returned to the UK for a bit. There were rumours going around that I was going to get my long awaited World title shot. They say everyone loves a winner, but in my life whenever I do well it seems to create jealousy and drama. I believe a lot of people actually prefer to see friends suffer as it makes them feel better about their s**t lives. “C” literally changed over night towards me. He started slagging Ramon Dekkers off, saying he was nothing, that pissed me off a lot, as when I fought in the UK for Golden Glory and Ramon had coached and cornered me,  “C” bugged the hell out of me introduce them so he could get a picture with him. As well as the fact that Ramon was and still is someone I admire the most. He also started calling me a bitch in front of everyone in the club. Most people would find this odd, but my brother never pulled him on it. It always seemed to be me and one or two friends against everyone else, I guess a lot of people didn’t know what to do or say so stayed out of it. Fast forward a couple of weeks and I got confirmation that my World Title fight was on. Also it was in Bedford, which was about an hour from my home, so I could have all my friends come and watch.

As you can imagine I was buzzing and training camp was starting that Saturday morning. I went to my brothers club that morning, with a friend  (who held pads) and a friend Joe who was only about 18 at the time. Joe was just a friend who wanted to support me as he knew how much this opportunity meant to me and he enjoyed training Muay Thai. As soon as we walked in there was a bad atmosphere. “C” was straight up hostile to me in front of everyone, and as usual it was left unchecked. Everyone knew I had the title shot. The club we trained at on a Saturday was in a sports hall, and a curtain separated it from handicapped  children who used to do sport on the other side of the hall. I started to hit pads, and “C” kept walking past and calling me a bitch and a pussy and how I was nothing. Now just to make things clear, I don’t stand for people saying that stuff to me. But my hands were kind of tied, as I needed somewhere to train and my brother liked “C”, well he liked anyone who disliked me really. My two friends kept telling me to ignore him, they could tell, and had seen over the weeks the situation getting out of control. At one point he walked into my back and then started swearing at me and put his forehead into mine calling me a c**t etc. My brother saw this and told him that I wasn’t worth it!

Anyway padwork was over, and it was time to do a bit of sparring. 16 ounce sparring gloves, shin pads, the usual. During this “C” actually walked in between me and my sparring partner as we were sparring. Total idiot thing to do. As the round ended “C” again started to slag me off in front of everyone, walking up to me saying I was a faggot. Ironically I’d taken my gunshield out to drink water. “C”  had taken his gloves, hand wraps and shin pads off. I should of known what was coming, but in some way I kind of expected this to never happen, in a club I was part of from day one, and that my brother now ran. I told him he was a mug and went to walk away. As I turned away he punched me, a total cheap shot on my chin. Now I’ve got a good jaw. I’ve taken elbows on the chin from a Rajadamnern Stadium champion and didn’t wobble. Anyway it didn’t even rattle me, I was however majorly pissed off. I was in close and foot swept him to the floor. Everyone had seen what had happened. I was now standing over him, and the thing I was thinking was how can I hurt him with these big gloves on. My brother ran over and jumped on “C” with his back to him, to protect him from me! Lots of people were trying to hold me back. Anyway I walked away, “C” got up screaming that he was going to kill me, and I was a c**t etc. Weirdly I was calm, I think it was disbelief and disgust at what was going on. I simply replied to him that I’d taken his best shot and dropped him. So then he started screaming how he was going to stab me. My brother just told him to keep calm and how I wasn’t worth it. My brother then turned to me and told me I was barred from the club. Me, and my two mates picked up our stuff and left.

I was understandably fuming by now and was in the process of ringing a very good friend who I knew would come to the club and literally put them all in hospital with me (if they were lucky). My mates talked me down a bit, and told me I’d better not do that, and that I’d better ring my dad to say what had happened. As they knew it would of been spun if my brother did first, again I don’t like telling tales, but a lifetime of people manipulating things to make me look bad kind of made it obvious what I had to do. I’m never a victim and this usually works against me, people treat me like dirt then feel sorry for themselves when things kick off. To be honest I’m glad they did this otherwise I think I could of ended up spending a long time in prison, and my lifetime of hard work would of been for nothing. I lived at home with my parents at the time. I called them and my dad answered. Now my dad is old school and never liked “C” as he saw him as a bully. When I told him what happened he said to meet him down the road. He didn’t tell my mum what had happened, just said he was going out. As he walked out the front door the phone went again. My brother had called and told my mum I’d been to the club attacked “C” and had threatened to stab him. It turns out the parents of the handicapped children had heard “C” screaming about stabbing me and quite rightly were concerned and complained to the manageress of the sports hall. She approached my brother who told her it was me! And that I’d been banned..she then also banned me. Hopefully it’s apparent now why the phone call to my dad was out of necessity, remember at the time I lived in their house. My dad turned up and said he’d go in, but I said I wanted to, so he agreed but made me promise not to say or do anything unless he said so. As we walked in (luckily not seeing the manageress, even though I had no idea I’d been blamed for the things “C” had done) what did we see but my brother holding pads for “C”! Now remember I’d literally that day started training for a World title, and here was my brother holding pads for someone who’d attacked me (in the most cowardly way possible) and threatened to stab me, welcome to my real life! When they spotted us “C” ran to his bag and pulled out a little metal bar and approached myself and my dad, with my brother! The funniest thing I’ve seen is him literally melt when my dad just said “you, you’re barred” he didn’t know what to say. My dad has a way of talking to anyone and making them feel like a child. My brother argued with my dad saying it was his club and he could do what he wanted etc. Anyway we left. My dad and my brother have always been very close and they were on good terms a day or so later. As for me, well I obviously didn’t talk to my brother for a long time. I also had to now train for my first World title in a barn in the beginning of a year with just one or two people to help me. I remember how it was freezing and I had to wear three or four layers of clothes my hands hurt when I punched, it was horrible, but we had nowhere else to train. I had no support network. I literally did it all myself. Oversaw my own training. Dealt with my own worries and fight anxieties, and did it like a man. I remember the week before the fight I met with Joe on a Sunday afternoon and just talked and I really opened up to him, I knew “C” my brother, and loads of people who’d heard a total fake version of accounts, of what had happened and had turned my name to mud, were rooting for me to fail. That on top of the usual pressure..the fact I was so close to reaching my lifelong goal and dream. The fact that literally everyone I knew had bought a ticket, so if I lost they’d all be there to witness it first hand. I’ve got to admit, that Sunday was probably the lowest I ever felt going into a fight. I really did feel alone. However I never ever would quit or let anyone beat me without giving it my all. Ironically the fight was over in 2 rounds I knocked my opponent out with punches even with his guard up, all them years suffering in Holland paid off! It wasn’t an easy fight, every time I watch it I can see I’m unusually stiff, due to the pressure. Eventually I found my rhythm and won my first World title. I remember spinning around with my arms in the air thinking to myself “I can’t believe I’ve done it, I’ll always be a World Champion now”.

One of the reasons I’ve written this is to tell the truth of a story that I’ve heard people talk about, when they know nothing about the truth. It’s one of the reasons why, when I’m in Cambridge I can’t train in the local bjj gyms because the instructors are liars and gutless, listening to rumours and gossip. I honestly don’t care anymore..I’m glad I’ve always had to do it my own way..it’s lead me to be strong physically and mentally. It’s given me the drive to go and train with the best, be it in Muay Thai, MMA, Kickboxing, BJJ, Wrestling. I’m constantly improving. As the saying goes the lion doesn’t concern himself with the opinions of sheep. Keep your backstreet gyms and your fake fighter profiles. I will carry on being a class act, and always a World Champion!

I’ve been doing Martial Arts my whole life, I’m currently professional, meaning I earn my living from competing. But even before (and after) I got paid to train and fight, I’ll always be a Martial Artist, and fighter. 

As I said before I started Judo at 4 years old, and was the smallest and youngest there. I also explained in an earlier blog, that it was very tough for me, and I used to lose in competitions a lot as I was too small and young at the time. I never gave up, and eventually I started winning, and then I seemed to win everything. My dad (who was one of our coaches at the local Judo club) used to then put me in the heavier and more experienced divisions, and I still used to almost always win. 

Around this time I’d started secondary (high) school. I was naturally quiet and struggled to make friends. No one really knew who I was or pay me much attention, very few knew I was a fighter (and becoming high level). Sometimes my life feels a bit like a movie. I remember all the kids at school starting to smoke and drink alcohol (underage obviously) I never felt any desire to do so, as I had my own goals and dreams to achieve. I do remember that I never felt as cool as all the kids drinking and smoking weed in front of girls and stuff, and I felt frustrated and miss understood (like most young teenagers) but I just kept true to my training. Weirdly one of my main influences in these days was the band Guns n Roses. You may think I’d have little from them to influence the lifestyle of an athlete, but I loved their “do or die” attitude, and used it to win at all costs there angry music helped fuel my determination to show everyone I’d be a someone, in my own way, like them I was ”going against the grain”. I had started Muay Thai by this point too, but was too young to compete in the UK. 

Around this time a few things happened all roughly around the same time. 

Firstly the school bullies a few years older started on me in front of everyone, I remember my voice saying “OK lunchtime, on the school field”. I knew I looked like easy pickings, but when they turned up at lunch. I literally beat the living shit out of two of them at the same time, all that “ I’m a street fighter” rubbish is nonsense when you come up against a trained fighter in a full contact art. It was hilarious really, as they were screaming for me to stop, and ended up with black eyes, one of them ended up with the nickname “popeye”. As is normal, word spread around the school about what I’d done and all of a sudden I became really popular and earned a reputation as one of the “hard”  kids in the school. 

Secondly, my Judo was going really well, and I’d won the Central England Judo Championships in two divisions, my own, and the youth “open” (any weight). The National Championships were coming up and I was good enough to enter. This was to see who the best Judo fighters in Britain were, and I’d be facing a lot of the UK international team. I remember that I got through to the finals in both divisions I’d entered, my own weight and the open weight again. As I was in the bleachers waiting till the finals. One of the UK squad coaches approached me and asked if he could talk to me and my dad. He then told us that I’d impressed them, and invited me to attend the British Squad training. This was huge for me, I would be able to train with the best Judokas in the UK, and even try and get a place on the British team! In the finals I got a bronze and a silver, narrowly missing the Gold. (I did win gold in one of the following years, and ended up being I.B.C National (British) Judo Champion). The local newspaper heard about my achievements and sent a photographer to my parents house and took some photos. I expected a small picture somewhere near the back, but ended up front page! My friend was laughing as he was a “paper boy” and said he was sick of seeing my grinning face holding my medals! 

I went to a boys school so didn’t have much interaction with girls, and hadn’t been that cool before, by not following the crowd and drinking and smoking. Though getting your face all over the papers as a fighter tends to lift your stock. I went to a local high school disco, and the most popular girl who was in the year above, so a year older, asked me to dance..much to the annoyance of all the guys there. I was way too shy to make a move, but it was fun, and I left on a natural high. About six weeks later the first British squad training I could attend was happening, and they were going to select from the team to represent Britain, against the German team in Germany. I was very nervous about this, but also highly motivated to get my spot (and beat the guy who I lost the gold medal to). The training was on a Sunday and the local high school disco was on the evening before. I went along as apparently the girl from before was telling everyone how much she liked me. Anyway I turned up, danced with her, had my first ever kiss (with the most popular girl) and went home on cloud nine. I woke up the next day absolutely buzzing, and smashed my training, then fought for my spot on the British team, and won! I think a combination of my early experiences, always fighting bigger, stronger opponents for all those years, the sacrifices of not smoking and drinking and just a pure desire to not let a dream slip through my fingers got me there. Plus the buzz from the evening before definitely helped. For the first time in my life I believed in myself, a hot girl liked me, and I’d just achieved the ability to represent my country in something I loved. 

The British team were due to compete against Germany a few weeks later, I remember at one of the squad training sessions them playing the national anthem and making us link arms to practice how we’d stand, it seemed so surreal to me that I was here, a part of it. It never seemed real, and that’s still a real vivid memory to this day. I also got to wear a patch on my Judo Gi saying in was in the British team. You got to wear a different one if you were allowed to squad training, though I never wore one as I got selected to represent my country on my first session, hell of an achievement that! 

The trip to Germany was funded for us, which again I thought was so cool, getting paid to travel abroad and fight. Though as a youth we’d be staying in other youth competitors parents houses in Germany. As the Bus was due to leave for Dover with us all on it, it broke down leaving the car park. We were stuck waiting for hours and ended up getting into two mini buses, and just managed to catch the last ferry! There was a terrible storm and loads of people were getting seasick, fortunately I was fine. The next morning after no sleep, me and another young guy “Paul” in the weight above me got put up in the house from hell. The German parents quite openly resented us, and weren’t friendly at all. We went for a walk but were so tired we could barely stay awake. They gave us dried bread and ham to eat. We went to bed early for the competition the next day. Being so tired was a bit of a blessing as I slept well, normally I’d be worrying about competing the next day. 

In the Youth team was myself, Paul, Jake, Katrina, and Vicky. We were up first before the adults. Katrina, Vicky, and Jake all won their fights. I was up next. I was so nervous but I just went in hard, and managed to win by Ippon, (Ippon is maximum points, winning inside the time limit. It can be done by a powerful throw, a submission, or pinning your opponent down for a set length of time) with my groundworks. I was ecstatic, my first time representing the UK and I’d won! Paul was up next and unfortunately lost, but put up a good fight. I also learned a valuable lesson watching the adults. The most feared adult in our team was a guy named Trevor, he was an animal and seemed invincible. Well he got thrown really fast and lost by Ippon! It was a shock to everyone, and I remembered thinking that anything can happen in fight sports. That night the British squad all met for a night out in a German bar, and we were allowed beers too, but I still refrained from drinking. I was just happy and even had a quick kiss with Katrina, I was getting the hang of being around girls! The next day we all caught the ferry home and I felt so happy, listening to Guns n Roses and watching the miles go by, just loving my life, what a sense of hard earned achievement! I was also sitting my GCSE exams at the time. The school allowed me to reschedule some as I was representing my country. 

This was my first real taste of life as an athlete, a fighter, and a man, and definitely inspired me to want more and to be more.

This blog will in some way start to explain my Dutch Kickboxing Journey. Like everything else in my life it’s not necessarily what it may of seemed to the outsider. I’d also like to clear something else up. Dutch Kickboxing isn’t just kickboxing it’s their version of Muay Thai too. Clinch work, elbows and knees are all included in practice, and most of my Dutch Kickboxing fights were Muay Thai rules, with a few kickboxing fights and K1 (legitimate K1 Max rules) fights too. I’ll probably brush over the differences in training between Dutch Kickboxing in Holland and Muay Thai in Thailand in this blog but will explain the similarities and differences in another blog. This is more about my journey to discover it and the adventures along the way. I was definitely going to get my eyes opened..enjoy.. 

As I said in a previous blog I knew I needed to get out of the local scene and improve myself. I was smart enough to realise that Ramon Dekkers gym was the place to go, success doesn’t happen by accident and the gym had numerous champions all fighting in Thailand, with Ramon, being the best of them all. I was desperate to learn what they were doing to be able to fight in Thailand and become a world champion myself. I’d written so many letters to numerous gyms, all to no avail and the trip to Chakuriki gym left me disappointed. 

I carried on training in Cambridge and had trained in Thailand a few times. I’d  won a few UK titles in Muay Thai by this point. I used to train with a big heavyweight named Eddie, he was a handful for everyone and quite well known throughout Cambridge, he was older than me, and a bit of a character and we became good friends, he even cornered me for quite a few of my early fights. Little did I realise but Eddie, would actually help me on my journey. You see he used to have a friend in Holland, and ironically he lived in the same Town as Ramon trained! After all those letters and stuff, a guy I knew had a connection. Anyway Eddie went to visit his friend, visited the famous Maeng Ho gym and came back and gave me a flyer to the gym, it even had the address!! Well it took me all of one second to write a letter saying please can I train with them, I want to be world champion I’ll do anything etc etc and sent it off. 

A week or so latter I’d been out running and came home, for my mum to say some Dutch guy had rang, I was pissed I’d missed the call but he rang back a few minutes later. I answered nervously to a guy calling himself Cees. He said I was welcome to come train with them whenever I liked. It wasn’t a long conversation but I promised I’d visit as soon as possible..though didn’t put any dates in place. The next day I went to the travel centre and worked out a way by bus and euro tunnel on how to get to their town in Holland. It wasn’t near Amsterdam so wasn’t as easy to reach. The following week I was ready to go. Now by this point I really felt like this was my last opportunity to escape my “small town world” and make it to the “big city” so to speak. I was literally a nervous wreck, this had to work out for me. I remember that an ex girlfriend Natalie drove me from Cambridge to the bus station in London to catch the coach to Holland, and I literally didn’t say more than two words the whole way there. The 10 hour coach journey by myself I was wracked with doubts, fears, and uncertainty. It would of been so much easier to just stay in my town and be a local hero, but I knew I wanted more out of my life. I knew the final stop of the Coach was Amsterdam and I’d be lying if I hadn’t thought that I could just go there for a few days and say things hadn’t worked out and return home. I had a million doubts in my head, the hard sparring, starting in a new gym, no friends, can’t speak the language etc etc and only one reason to stay..because I knew if I wanted to be successful I had to deal with these emotions and just do it. Anyway I got out at the right bus stop and didn’t have a clue where to go. It never occurred to me to get a map beforehand. I actually went out the wrong way from the bus station which ironically lead me straight to the gym! As I approached the glass fronted building a big guy was inside and saw me, he came straight out and said, “you must be Lee!” He took my bag and showed me inside the gym. It was impressive, and even better they had rooms directly above that he said I could stay in (in my rush to get to Holland I hadn’t even thought about where I’d be staying!). We agreed I’d stay for 10 days and see what we thought of each other. I’d also like to point out that he didn’t charge me to stay there, or to train. I was also told training was in 2 hours to get some rest as it was sparring…”here we go again” I thought..but this time at least I had a feeling of what was to come! 

Just to explain the background quickly. Maeng Ho was the name of the gym Ramon Dekkers had trained at with his coach Cor Hemmers. However Cor had sold Maeng Ho to Cees, and was now training with Ramon somewhere else, under the banner Hemmers Gym. Cees was one of Cor’s students, was a heavyweight champion in Muay Thai, and fought bare knuckle Vale Tudo..even breaking out of a Dutch jail to fight in Brazil. A lot of other fighters stayed at Maeng Ho. Another Student of Cor’s a heavyweight European champion named Dennis Krauwel started another gym in the next city called Friends Gym which would then be renamed Team Superpro, Dennis is the trainer of Glory heavyweight champion Rico Verhooven. Dennis and Cees were friends and agreed that their fighters couldn’t cross train..I ended up becoming the exception, and both had pivotal roles in my career. I met Dennis a few days into my trip and I instantly liked him, to this day I believe he’s a fantastic coach.

My first training session was years ago but I still remember it well. We warmed up and then I had to get in the ring and Spar, the first round was with Cees, I guess he wanted to test my abilities. It was definitely harder than anywhere else I’d trained and little regard was given to size or experience gaps. It was actually the first time in my life I got hit hard enough to feel a slow blink sensation. I realised I was still standing and as Cees came in I threw an instinctive Left hook which landed flush on his chin. The rest of the round was a blur. He got out the ring saying how I caught him with a good shot, I didn’t say anything about him hurting me. Next few rounds were with Donny Kempers a 72kg European champion, and I mean a real European champion. This guy was good, he wasn’t going as hard as Cees, but Cees was coaching him and here was my first taste of real Dutch low kicks and combinations. He literally carved my legs up..especially my rear leg which no one had ever attacked before. After a few rounds Cees called an end to it and I hit pads etc. I tried not to show the pain but I could hardly walk. Cees gave me some hot Ointment to rub on my legs and explained about the low kicks. His initial assement was I had raw talent, explosive power, and heart…but my combinations especially my boxing and low kicks needed lots of work..fair assessment really..that’s why I was there. 

Fortunately the next day was MMA training or Mix Fight/Vale Tudo and here I faired better. My years of judo and grappling allowed me to win most of the ground works exchanges. But even here I noticed that there was no “playing around” or taking it easy..it was full on war. The MMA sparring rounds I was just trying to get them to the floor as quickly as possible, my legs were still painful and I didn’t want another headache like I had the day before. I noticed that live sparring was an important part of the training, and it was pretty much full contact. I didn’t have a lot of money so I’d eat in McDonald’s and get sweets and chocolate bars to fill myself up in the evenings. One day Cees knocked on my door, saw all the fast food wrappers and then took me out for steak and potatoes. He was an aggressive type of guy, but had a heart of gold. Towards the end of the week, on Sunday the gym went and trained in the woods. We’d do long runs and sprints mixed in with pad work..it was more of a beasting session than a technical one, but I loved it, I’m always super fit and definitely showed it there. Afterwards Cees took me to his home as he was having a BBQ. I was trying not to fall asleep after the gruelling session when Cees said there was a MMA (Mixfight) Gala (show) in Amsterdam that evening and that he was trying to get me a last minute fight!! Here I was knackered from a gruelling two hour beasting that morning and he was trying to get me a fight. I agreed, but was kind of pleased that they couldn’t find someone my weight. The ten days was coming to an end and Cees said he’d like to sign me to fight for his gym in Muay Thai/Kickboxing and MMA. I was over the moon, I knew this was going to turn me into the fighter I wanted to be, but knew it would be hard physically, mentally and also a struggle financially. I didn’t care though, I knew I’d find a way to make it happen. I was so proud of myself and it was the first real contract I signed in my life, I’ve still got the contract at my parents house. When I caught the bus home to the UK, I felt like a totally different person. Not just that, but I knew that they saw something in me, which made me realise that I really did have the potential to reach my goals, looking back this opportunity that I took, really made me the man and fighter I am today. But of course it wasn’t easy and there were many obstacles along the way, but..it was a start.

As a fighter, being tough isn’t an option, its a requirement. If you’re new to combat sports and your coach is saying you won’t get hit, or hurt, well, they’re lying to you! Skill is vital, but just as vital is physical and mental toughness. Go in most boxing/kickboxing gyms in the world and there’ll be some sort of quote on the walls about character or ”heart”. In fact in Thailand your “heart” is something you’ll hear referred to all the time. What they mean is your mental toughness, and fighting spirit. Ordinary fighters become heros if they display great courage and toughness during a fight, and even a loss can be seen as a moral victory if great ”heart” is shown. This is something that made Ramon Dekkers so famous in Thailand, even if losing, and covered in his own blood he never backed up.

This brings me onto the topic of my own toughest fight, a question i get asked a lot. One fight that springs to mind is of a fight I had in Issan in Thailand, and ironically I’ve only got one blurry photo to remind me of it. I was training and living in Bangkok at the time. My manager told me I would fight a top 10 Lumpinee ranked guy up near Ubon (a poor area in Issan). His village was having a celebration, as usual there would be the Thai Boxing fights and he was the main event fighting there. I wasn’t told his name or weight…just “No Worry” The usual thing for me, and as usual I did worry, especially the fact we didn’t have to “check weight” I know that now, some westerners go to Thailand and get to beat up a smaller fat, tuk tuk driver, but this never applied to me. So i figured I’d be fighting a larger opponent.

I Caught the train there by myself, and they’d put me up in a half hotel, half brothel type place. I walked in to reception in the morning to check in, and the place was full of half naked women, not that i had any problem with that! I spent most of the day by myself, the usual pre fight nerves and loneliness just part of the game. The next day the promoter turns up to take me to the venue. Now it’s usually hot in Thailand.. but it was freezing cold there, as we were in Issan it was about 8 Celsius 46F. I’m in a vest and shorts and made to sit in the back of a pickup truck for an hour!! By the time we arrived I was frozen, I was shivering and my teeth chattering. Anyway there was the usual village fairground festivities going on, but unusually I got a very bad welcome, no smiles, as is usual in Thailand, after all it is nicknamed “the land of smiles”, I’m used to being the foreigner, but this time i felt more like the enemy. No one wanted to come near me, it was very obvious I was in my opponents home, so to speak. I also realised I had no one to corner me, the promoter didnt seem to want to associate with me. I’m wondering who can help wrap my hands and help me when someone comes and tells me I’m on next! So I wrap one hand myself & had two young boys about 8 years old help tape my gloves. No one else would come near me..I was very obviously the enemy! I got in the ring still freezing cold from the truck ride, and not having a chance to warm up and the kids tipped a bucket of ice water over my head! I wanted to kill them but just grimaced a smile instead. My opponent enters the ring and no surprise was considerably larger than me about 155lbs to my 140lbs walk around weight, i definitely didn’t lose weight for this fight, “once bitten twice shy”, so to speak. Usually the first round starts slow, not this fight, he came at me throwing everything he had, elbows head kicks..it was like a street fight, he wanted to smash me infront of his friends and family. I had to fight fire with fire, the first 2 rounds were like that. Fairly even but I was hurting bad, really bad. His kicks were literally lifting me off my feet even when i blocked them. The third round arrives and is the hardest yet, his kicks and elbows were hurting me so badly. As the bell sounds to end the round and I walked back to my corner just for a half second I thought “I could just sit in my corner and end the fight on my stool, no one knows me…no TV, I would never have to show anyone, and I’ve been stitched up the whole way” well the half a second that took to think, something inside me stirred, ego or heart, or maybe just a rage. Not like in the movies where your coach pops in your head, but the same sort of emotion, and I thought “fuck it” lets just do or die here! I went out in round 4 and smashed him the whole round, it definitely wasn’t my most technical display, but i was landing shots, rocking, and hurting him, every time he clinched i threw him off, but I couldn’t finish it. By the last round we were both battered and bruised and neither of us wanted to push too much, and it was fairly even. At the end of the fight they scored it a draw, which i was happy enough with. A draw against a high level opponent who massively outweighed me, and in his home town!

After the fight everyone was coming up to me all smiles and stuff, saying what great heart I had. I was driven back to my brothel/hotel, inside the truck this time. I was so sore i literally couldn’t lift my arms above my head to take my clothes off. The next day the promoter took me to some party in a mansion, it was really weird, there were high ranking police, high class escorts, and mafia types all partying together. Everyone treated me very well. However later on as i was on my way home, i got bitten by a dog, just a little cut on my finger, but it was a stray. I obviously needed to get rabies jabs, so spent my winnings on a flight home to Bangkok. I’m not sure how many people have had to have rabies jabs, but theres loads of them, and they really hurt. Not just that, but all the glands under my armpits swelled up because of it. That is defenitly the most I’ve hurt after any fight. When I limped back to the gym a few days later, one of the trainers asked why i didnt just fight the guy in Lumpinee Stadium, just around the corner! People often ask me if this life I’ve choosen is worth it…of course it is! What an experience, plus i know without a doubt i dont have any quit in me, thats what people call ”heart”

Below is part of the original article written about my life as a professional fighter, by a UK Journalist, who happened to come train at the gym I was fighting out of, in Thailand. Originally it was going to be in a Sunday spread newspaper, however “lads Mag NUTS” came along and sensationalised it and chopped it up a bit. I found it annoying how some people from the British Muay Thai community hated me being in a mainstream media magazine, but I’ve learnt that success breeds jealousy. Anyway I think the original piece is well written, and gives a bit of an insight into my life when I lived in Thailand, making it as a Pro Fighter. There’s a second article about my time in Holland which I will post separately. I’ve come such a long way since then, now living and fighting as a Pro MMA fighter based out of Las Vegas.. Mi Vida Loca!

Enjoy:

My Thai Boxing

Lee Coville was born in Buntingord, near Cambridge. He is modest and unassuming, which serves him well in The Kingdom, where brashness and bragging are frowned upon within the complex culture of Thai society. Yet despite his amiable nature, Coville is a very serious fighter, a veteran of 25 years of martial arts, which began with his first judo lesson at the age of four. At eight, he had his own punch bag. After many more years of dedication and discipline, the years where so many promising athletes stumble due to the peer pressures of youth, Coville became the British Muay Thai champion, age just 19.

It took him a mere six fights.

“The second fight I had, I stopped an area champion in the second round – so after that I rose quite quickly in England. But that was a long time ago”, he tells me. Despite his young age and newly acquired title, Coville promptly quit the English scene, hungry for a bigger stage that would lead to bigger things. He went to Holland, kick boxing hub of Europe, to find and train with the iconic Dutch legend Ramon Dekkers. Despite initially not hooking up with his idol, Coville stayed and trained through a period of enormous turbulence, both physical and mental, culminating in him knocking out Muay Thai World Champion Mudjin Idisri in Denmark (see next blog, “Doing it the hard way: the Dutch connection).

Gallingly, it was a non-title fight, but by this time Coville’s ambitions went beyond the silverware and beyond Europe. He wanted to go where the sport was more important than the people, where he could fight for the sake of fighting, and against the hardest the world had to offer. He went to Thailand.

———-

There are approximately 100,000 registered Muay Thai fighters in “TheLand of Smiles”, the sport only rivalled by the English Premier League for popularity. The competition is inevitably fierce, yet the glory in success is minimal. The fighters greatest prize is the stadium title (the premier ones being Lumpini and Ratchadamnoern in Bangkok), not the world title. With such a high turnover of champions, it is the promoters who bring the events together that receive the plaudits. Often the men in the ring are almost inconsequential, meat in a very big gambling sandwich. You’d be hard pressed to find a harder breed of sportsmen that sacrifice themselves routinely for less acclaim.

Muay Thai is different from other kick boxing formats in its allowance, and general encouragement, of the use of elbows and knees (Thai fighters also harden the skin on the front of their shins, so the legs become like insensitive weapons when used to kick in the ring). This art, which has developed over the centuries, originating with mortal fights carried out using fists of glue and glass, has honed the Thai fighters into arguably the hardest striking combatants in the world. It was these people – “the best”, in his own words – that the young Coville sought to test his ability against.

Fast forward a decade and Lee will admit he has had his fair share of success and the odd failure since he began his annual pilgrimages to the Mecca of his profession. He is managed by the enigmatic and exceptionally well connected Mr. Pong. He could fight out of harder, more disciplined gyms, but Muay Thai Plaza 2004, owned and managed by Pong, is ideal. He keeps his head down, and trains when he wants at the pace he wants. This is not to say he takes it easy. Watching him melt in the midday heat – almost seeing the weight drip away from him – and barely able to walk, you’d be forgiven for thinking he’s a bit of a sadist.

The gym also gives him the chance to spar with some hard and experienced men. Despite its humble appearance, the Muay Thai Plaza trains and promotes some of the best fighters in Thailand. They often use Lee’s exceptional boxing (honed in Holland) to practise hand work, and he in turn uses them to continue to improve his ‘clinch’ work – the part of fighting where both fighters will lock together and knee and elbow each other at close range in the torso and head respectively. At this part of the game the Thais are second to none. Pong organises as many fights for him as he can take, and sometimes more. But to decline an offer of a bout is to lose the impetus, and Coville’s hungry attitude is not lost on his promoter, leading him to fight on some impressive billings. These have included one of the greatest honours in Thai boxing, fighting as the main event on the King’s birthday in front of 50,000 of his overtly loyal people, as well as an appearance in the famous Lumpini Stadium.

“To say I’ve won in Lumpini, as a foreigner in Thailand, is to me almost a greater achievement than winning my world title belt”, Coville states.

This month he will fight three times, each fight separated by two weeks. He has fought “40 odd” times, winning most, but doesn’t keep track of his record (records in Thailand are not there to be scrutinized. Fighters here fight so often that the lines get blurred. A fighter can go on a run, backed by a good promoter in one stadium, and get his shot at that particular stadium title. Other than that, it is a profession, the sheer volume of fights fuelled by the relentless gambling of the Thai audience, always willing to shout a wager as long as there’s blood going to be spilt. As a result, after a career that begins in their early teens, and often finishes in their mid-twenties, fighters will fight up to an astonishing 150 times. It’s a far cry from the relatively molly-coddled world of the western boxer. Despite his obvious ability and stubborn refusal to lay down and die, he does occasionally lose. “Here, it’s very hard to win on points if you’re a foreigner”, he explains. “You know, all the Thai people cheer for the Thai fighter in the fight – fair enough, it’s patriotic, which I think is a good thing. But…” He stops short of claiming bias, but Muay Thai, with its incessant gambling, is not totally corruption free. I ask him if he has ever been asked to throw a fight. “I was asked, well, told to throw a fight in Hong Kong once. I was only 23, and I went alone with some other Thais from a different gym and another Australian to fight in a show over there. I was in my hotel room, and I got a knock on the door inviting me to join the promoters for a chat. A group of supposed “businessmen” sat me down and said “Tomorrow night, you lose.” Thinking they were winding me up and telling me they thought I’d get a beating, I said “I don’t think so”. Then they said, “No. Tomorrow night, you lose. You go down in the third.””

After pondering the intimidating turn of events privately in his room, Coville packed his bags. Despite a confrontation in the lobby with more suited Triad-types, Lee made it to the nearest Metro station – and then on to the airport – with the fortunate aid of two burly ex-pats who were walking past the hotel at the time.

Coville recounts this story now with a smile on his face. Yet being a one-man band is something he’s had to get used to, since he inadvertently ended up on his own for a fight; his only corner man got on the wrong bus), and still won. That showed the frugal Mr. Pong he could do it alone; so now there are times when he does. Unfortunately for Coville, that means no-one for company, no-one to bandage his hands, no-one to offer advice, no-one to wipe away the blood. The reprieve from this loneliness comes in the form of whoever happens to be around – and feeling generous – when he turns up the arena he is to compete in. Or if, say, a journalist turns up and wants to write a story on him…

———-

The first time I met and subsequently interviewed Coville, I had the privileged experience of being in his corner for a bout. Rewind two weeks prior to the aforementioned self-induced sweat-fest in the midday Bangkok heat. His fight with M-16 in the southern island of Phuket is looming, and he knows no-one is going with him. I find this out two days before his fight, so I offer my limited services as a companion, which he readily accepts, and I jump on a flight the next day. Lee travels by bus – the cheaper, gruelling 14 hour journey made only bearable by the fact he is on an express coach with only fourteen beds on it, one of which is his. 2 nights later I meet up with him outside Bangla Stadium, on the sordid go-go strip of Patong beach. He looks nervous, very nervous. But it is not the nervous look you or I might have when confronted with imminent violence. Hounded by the stadium’s repetitive drone advertising “Tonight, Thai boxing, best Thai boxing, tonight, Thai boxing, best boxing…”, which he can here from his hotel room across the road, he looks ready to go. Now. Trouble is, his fight is not for another three hours.

Two and a half hours later and Coville now looks like he’s about to jump out of his skin. We spent the last two hours as follows. We meet outside the stadium where we get harassed on the street by promotion girls asking us if we want tickets to see Lee fight (they didn’t recognise him, as his photo on the flyer is old, and Lee has what I would tactfully call an unfortunate haircut). We then wander in past the smiling locals faces, with them giving advice about his opponent along the way: He’s the best, he’s a good boxer, he’s good with his legs… He’s no good, he can’t fight, you weeen! We move upstairs where all the fighters will prepare together, side-by-side until they are called to the ring. Anyone can talk to them; there is no star treatment in Thailand for the meat. Coville’s opponent comes over and claims Lee is too good to fight him. He seems like a very nice bloke, and not at all in the mood for a fight. However, having seen Thais fight with blood gushing and a smile on their face, I know they can be deceptive.

“They play mind games here”, Lee says, unsure if Mr. M-16 is genuine or not.

Mind games over with, it’s time to find someone to bandage the hands and provide a pre-fight massage. Unfortunately there aren’t many options, so a Thai fighter not on the bill – dressed smartly in white shirt and black trousers but sporting a nasty black eye – kindly does the honours. Lee tapes his own shins, which are already very painful from his previous bout, meaning he won’t be able to kick with his right leg. Whilst this goes on, two fourteen year olds fight in the opening bout, followed by progressively older teenagers who annihilate each other with elbows to the face, and knees to the midsection. Each impact is greeted by the crowd with “ooooh!” and “aaaay!” cheers that rise in volume as the exchange quickens. Bizarrely, James Blunt’s “High” plays between rounds, and very poor Thai techno music plays between each bout. The circus is in full swing, and “Mr. Lee”, as Coville is now known thanks to the ring announcer, is top billing. The waiting finally over, we make our way to ringside, where semi-interested tourists sit on one side, rabid Thais on the other. Each Muay Thai fight is preceded by the opponents performing the traditional dance, the Wai Kru. This involves various poses and poises struck by both opponents in honour of the gym, and the spirits. It is a delicate, almost effeminate routine. Lee’s is understandably short, which we joke about later. His opponent’s is more drawn out, and I can’t help but wondering if this is a deliberate ploy to unsettle the farang (foreigner).

It doesn’t work. In the first round, after taking a couple of hard kicks to the insides of his legs, Lee asserts his power advantage. M-16 can kick extremely hard (as all Thais invariably can), but every time he gets too close Coville unleashes fiercely punched combinations. The pattern of the fight is set. Lee’s more European style gradually wins through, as the Thai’s kicks are blocked to perfection. The returning punches start homing in, and in the critical third round, where many Muay Thai fights are decided, Coville nearly knocks his opponent’s head off with a right uppercut, left and straight right combination. Amazingly the man stays on his feet, but you can see his confidence fade. In between rounds Coville sits in his corner and gets shouted at and rubbed down by two Thais who have volunteered to help him. He clearly doesn’t understand what they are saying, but nods politely anyway. Excited by his confident display, I give him some advice straight from my professional repertoire: “watch his legs!”, “keep punching!”, and most importantly: “knock him out!” Lee nods politely. Round four is a repeat of the third, again Coville nearly knocking his opponent down with a right hook, but his opponent has a strong chin and his legs refuse to buckle. Lee avoids the close clinching as this can score heavily with the judges, and could offer his opponent a way back into the contest. The fifth and last round arrives quickly. Sitting on his stall, mouth guard in a bucket of ice cold water, Coville looks strong. He has slowly progressed as the fight has gone on. He looks in control, and now it is just a question of avoiding any big exchanges to secure what should be a comfortable victory on points. The crowd still cheers at every attempt made by their compatriot to alter the balance, but no damage is done and their cries are lacking conviction. At the final bell, I suddenly have a sinking feeling that they may award the bout unfairly to Coville’s opponent (worse has been known to happen), but the referee wastes no time in acknowledging the blue corner as the winner. A win on points in front of the home crowd: a sure sign of a convincing display. And, with that, Lee leaves the ring. No fanfare, no cheers. Just private celebration and a hobble back upstairs, pausing along the way for a photo with some British tourists, a small ritual that I later learn fills Lee with great pride.

Unfortunately, pride soon turned to humiliation and anger the following morning. Unintelligibly, Lee was refused back on the express bus for his return leg, due to the fact he is a foreigner in Thailand. Instead he was forced to endure 19 hours of discomfort and pain on the regular service all the way back to Bangkok, not to mention the unwelcome advances of a young Thai gentleman. It was a classic example of Thai discrimination, another contradictory sensation to Coville’s love for his adopted home.

———-

Back in the gym two weeks later, and his emotions have reached another ebb. The memory of his Phuket victory seems distant, replaced by the endless hours of running and now starvation. Losing the weight for his upcoming fight in Hong Kong is draining Lee. He is depressed, he can’t kick at all, and probably won’t be able to for much of the bout. Not a good thing in the world of the kick boxer, World Champion or not. He speaks of his regime with weariness but determination, the inevitability of it just another sacrifice to be endured. “Sunday I’ll start to cut down, but by Tuesday I’ll have my noodle soup and then that’s it. I’ll have water, but gradually start phasing out the fluids as I go through the week.” He’s got the look of a man obsessed, but slightly troubled by the choice of his obsession. His penance will culminate with him sitting in a sauna on the morning of the fight, sweating out the last millilitres of fluid that add up to his body mass.

Isn’t this all a bit bad for him?

“Well, fighting’s not good for you; getting punched in the head’s not good for you.” He manages a wry laugh.

It’s a macabre humour that serves Coville well, as he fights his way through the best of what Thailand has to offer. Ten years coming back and forth has given him immense pride and pleasure, humiliation and pain. It’s a career choice which has enriched his life, a life which could have been spent otherwise just in the UK, fighting easier fights, for more money but limited satisfaction. Instead he comes home every winter, works overtime as a doorman doing night shifts – then returns to Thailand with even greater motivation than before to continue his challenge. In April this year he achieved his original dream and won his first Muay Thai world title belt, knocking out the defending Golden Belt champion in the second round, ironically in the UK. Yet it is Thailand that occupies his dreams now. It has become his enduring arena.

———-

I speak to Coville one last time, after his fight in Hong Kong. He lost on points. He is not disappointed in himself; he was never able to fight to his potential. His opponent had watched tapes of his recent fights, and spent the bout retreating and using his legs, not allowing Lee to get close and damage him with the only weapons he had left.

“Never mind”, says Lee. “A fight’s a fight. I’ve got another one in two weeks!”

He laughs. I think he’s a bit mad, then his words come back to remind me.

“It’s all about the punishment. How much you can give, and how much you can

take.”

ENDS

One of my biggest regrets as a fighter is never having taken enough photos or videos of my career. I was talking to an old friend James, who used to train and fight out of the small gym we were part of in Cambridge in the early days of my Muay Thai career. Talking to him reminded me of my first trip to Holland, as he came with me.

A bit of background was that the original gym in Cambridge, which almost all the new Muay Thai and MMA gyms in Cambridge and the surrounding areas can trace their lineage back to in one way or another, was just a group of 7 or 8 guys training together in a squash court. That included myself and my older brother. I felt early on, that in order to become a World Champion I’d need to look for more experienced fighters and coaches, and after watching Ramon Dekkers on TV I figured there’d be no better gym than that. However in those days before the internet it was almost impossible to track the gym down. However I did manage to find the address of  another famous Dutch gym, Chakuriki Gym, in Amsterdam, run by Thom Harinck. The gym had produced numerous world champions including Peter Aerts, Gilbert Ballentine, and Patrick Erickson to name a few.

I told James of my plan to go check it out, and he said he’d join me, possibly even do some training himself as he wanted to get ready for his first fight and I’d told him how great the training and sparring in Holland was. Now by this point in my career I’d only had a handful of fights, and was what would be classed as a “C” class fighter in Holland.

Anyway we got a flight to Amsterdam and made our way to the hotel, it was quite funny but we were there at the same time as the Gay Olympics, and everywhere we went we were cat called and whistled at, by guys with big handlebar moustaches and leather pants. If I’m honest it did look a bit cliched, most of the guys looked like Freddie Mercury lookalikes, but each to their own.

The next morning we made our way by bus to Chakuriki Gym. It was in what I’d describe as a ghetto part of Amsterdam. I was told I could train with the Pro’s, James watched the first session. I must admit I was a bit surprised as most of that class reminded me of Karate clubs, where we did lots of techniques in the air rather than hitting pads (this is something I haven’t done in any of the other Dutch gyms I’ve trained at since). I wasn’t overly impressed to be honest, but was determined to give anything a go to become better.

This had a knock on effect, as I told James we wouldn’t book too many nights in advance in our hotel, as I still had the dream to find Ramon Dekkers gym. Unfortunately when we went to extend our stay (I’d given up trying to find Dekkers gym, and resigned myself to Chakuriki) the rooms were all booked, remember the Gay Olympics were in town so we couldn’t find another room! We eventually found an Argentinian “hotel” and they let us sleep in a basement room, I think it was the janitors room, James describes it as a “flea pit”! They definitely hated us in that hotel, they were overly rude, apparently they hadn’t forgotten the war! James to this day doesn’t let me forget that it was my fault, as I wouldn’t book the whole trip at the first hotel.

The next morning James came with me to train as it was conditioning and we went running with Patrick Erickson and some of the other Pro’s. After that morning session they told us that evening was sparring.

We headed back to the gym in the evening, a bit nervous, for two reasons. Firstly sparring at a new gym can be a bit daunting as you tend to have a target on your back, and secondly this was sparring in Holland which to this day is renowned for how hard they go (knockouts are common). Anyway this is where it became clear that this was not going to be a gym I’d be part of. They put me in the ring with Patrick Erickson, who was maybe 4-5 kgs heavier than me, and a legitimate current World Champion. And all I can say is that I was enitiated very quickly into Dutch sparring. Full power punches and Kicks. I’ve no shame in admitting that I got a bit of a hammering BUT I also stood my ground landed some good shots, and didn’t go down or show any pain at all, though believe me I had lots. James had also been matched out of his depth, I don’t think he’d fought at this point, and although he wasn’t sparring with a world champion, he was still having a hard time too, though as an ex football hooligan, who’d turned his life around with Muay Thai he had pride enough to tough it out.

After the session, Thom Harrinck suggested I could be part of the gym but was asking ridiculous amounts of money just to sleep in the ring. I was very disappointed by this as I was struggling to make it as a pro and there was no way I could afford it. Plus he even tried getting James and myself to sleep at his gym for the last few nights of our trip, whilst charging us more than the hotel for the “privilege” of doing so, we both politely declined.

The next morning was sparring again, now this shows my character as most people would of made excuses to get out of an unfair hammering. Not me, I’ve got great heart (some call it stupid stubbornness) we went back and it was basically more of the same. I’d like to state that Patrick Erickson was actually a nice guy, it wasn’t malicious, he was just doing his job. Though it definitely showed me that the gym didn’t care about my health or wellbeing, it’s ridiculous putting a guy with 3 or 4 fights into hard sparring with a world champion, that’s only done to prove a point. I knew this, but there was no way I’d “lay down and die” or admit defeat to anyone. Anyway it was our last day there as we were due to fly home the next afternoon. After getting the bus back to our “hotel” James and myself had some lunch and were going to rest before returning that evening, thankfully it was pads (no sparring) however we talked over lunch and it was nice to have a good friend to mull things over with for a change. I’d realised that they were really just trying to show me how good they were. I hadn’t really enjoyed the training, and it seemed like they were interested more in money than anything else. This was very gutting for me, as I knew if I was to make it in the sport I had to get away from the Cambridge scene. Anyway we decided to spend our last evening having some much deserved (and needed) fun. We went out and got drunk in Amsterdam’s famous red light district. I don’t drink very often but it was a fun night, I won’t divulge any more information than that, apart from a little bit of karma to our hotel. I hardly drink, so tend to err on the side of caution as I don’t like the feeling of being “wrecked”. James however as I said used to be a well known football hooligan, he’d totally changed his life around, and was in love with Muay Thai, he lost loads of weight and hadn’t drunk in months. However he thought he could still drink as much as in his football terrace days..with disastrous consequences, when we got back to our room he puked so much he actually managed to block the toilet and the sink! There was no love lost between us and the hotel upon checking out. I’d like to say he didn’t deliberately block the toilet, it was a funny kind of Karma though!

We returned to England the next day and although I didn’t show it I was very down. It was a disappointing trip for me. But I was more determined than ever to get back to Holland and make it as a professional fighter, and one day become the World Champion I’d always dreamed I would!

Speaking to James I asked if he had any pictures of the trip at all, and he said no, I don’t think we even took a camera. It’s strange that we could have an adventure like that, and not take a single picture especially in this day and age where everyone’s a social media “champion”. At least we have the memories!

It’s been a while since my last blog, I was planning on carrying on where I left off about my journey as a child learning and competing in Martial Arts. I will carry that on in another blog.

I stated last time that I had lost my last MMA fight, and that the weight (fighting 10lbs above my weight) was an issue. It seems that maybe as a person my desire to fight, outweighs my sense sometimes. But hey at least you get the picture that I never “pick and choose” my opponents.

So at the start of 2019 I was in the UK for Christmas & New year. I got a call from Ray Sefo back Las Vegas saying Lion Fight were wanting me to fight on their Muay Thai card in Vegas around March time. Although I’m more focused on MMA at the moment I agreed, as had nothing else coming up. I returned to my place back in Vegas and started my fight camp. I also decided to go to Thailand for a few weeks to get back into Muay Thai “mode” with the clinching etc. However in Thailand it became clear that the Lion Fight match wouldn’t happen for me. I was offered a fight in Lumpinee which I accepted, this fell through about 5 days before the fight. Leaving me frustrated, as I had trained my ass off and had now been in Thailand for nearly 10 weeks instead of the 2-3 I planned. Me being in Thailand for 10 weeks without a fight was unheard of, when I lived there before I’d sometimes have two fights within a week!

However when I was in Bangkok I received another call from Ray Sefo, asking if I’d be willing to fight Kickboxing (K1 rules) in Japan? It was a “Legends Show” the old K1 legends Ray Sefo, Peter Aerts, Ernesto Hoost, and Musashi, would all have a fighter representing them on the card, I was Ray Sefo’s fighter (another proud moment in my career). One catch though, at 64kgs! (Not my usual 57-61kgs). Although I’d said I’d never fight out of my weight division again, I said yes! After all I’d never fought or been to Japan before, and to do so was a lifelong dream. What’s more I was headlining the show. Plus anyone who knows me knows how much I hate inactivity as a fighter. So a quick 30 hour trip to Vegas, a few days rest and then back to training with Ray Sefo, whilst waiting for my Japanese entertainer Visa to arrive. I should of taken the next few events as a sign of things to come! A mix up in communications meant my visa arrived less than 24 hours before I was due to fly to Japan. So I spent over a week stressing about not being able to go. Also Ray was unable to fly with me or be there for the weight cut, and weigh in, due to commitments to the PFL in the USA. He was due to arrive the night before fight day. Anyway being on my own was something I’d learned to get used to in Thailand (another future post) so I was happy enough to be going.

I have to say when I arrived in Japan it was everything I imagined it would be and more. The people were so polite, constantly bowing. As a professional fighter, I was treated like a celebrity, with people wanting pictures and autographs. The weight cut and weigh in went without a hitch, and the press conference was very professionally done. My opponent was the current ISKA World Champion at 66kgs. I knew it was a tough fight, at a heavy weight but I also know I’ve beaten other champions at that weight.

Fight day was great, upon arriving at the arena there were TV and camera crews everywhere filming us. They even had drones inside the stadium to film the show which I’d never seen at a fight show before.

I warmed up with Ray backstage and felt fantastic. My conditioning was some of the best it’s ever been (running 10 miles a day for 10 weeks in Thailand payed off) I had the usual mix of adrenaline with that self belief and determination kick in.

The fight started and I felt so sharp, I could see everything my opponent threw at me, and I was blocking it. I was throwing hard punch combinations with kicks on the end. I visibly hurt him a couple of times. The only problem I had was I couldn’t force him back (this is where weight is a big issue)  towards the end of the round he caught me with a liver punch, I went down and actually beat the count but the ref stopped the fight. I pissed blood for days so it was a good shot, though my pride was more hurt than anything. The promoters were really happy with my performance especially the fact that I fought using combinations, a habit I learned in Holland. They said they wanted me to fight again and this time at my proper weight, so we will see what happens.

At the after party the promoter asked me to make a speech to the fighters, press and fans in attendance. I just said how I think the Japanese are among the best fans of fight sports in the world, and how well I was treated. It must of been good as I got a standing ovation by everyone there. They said, I fight like an animal, but am really humble in person, I personally think that’s a great combination of characteristics.

I had a couple of days off in Japan to relax and see some of the country, including the temple where Samurai and Ninja were made famous. Also eating in a Japanese BBQ restaurant, they are like little houses on the street and are tiny inside, but the food and atmosphere was something spectacular. I returned to Las Vegas, a bit down, but proud of my performance with the odds against me. And after all I’d just achieved another boy hood dream, not only fighting in Japan (the home of Martial Arts) but headlining the show. I’d like to say that I will never fight out of my weight again. However I’d rather be a fighter who fights anyone, than someone who’s known to pick and choose, something I’m afraid is very common particularly here in the USA where everyone wants to have a perfect record. I’m old school, I fight for the sake of fighting, not for social media likes and attention. I’m REAL, and proud to be so!

Untill next time…

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton