Three minutes before the fight my dad entered the locker room. We both knew why I was there. Boxing was a seed planted decades earlier. A scream in the background from the arena echoed through. Fight night, under the London arches and this evening I wasn’t a fan in the crowd…I was the Main Event!

Aged nine I remember with joy the era of Eubank, Benn, Tyson & Bruno. Watching ITV Saturday night prime time with dad was very special. Boxing was for me then as it is now, pure escapism. Frank Bruno once described boxing as show business with blood. The weigh-in, the ring entrances, the lights – he wasn’t wrong. From the get-go, I was totally hooked and not only as an observer. Like many other boys my age I had a football goal in the back garden, but I also had something else. In the shadows, inside the shed walls…a full-length punch bag.

Fast forward twenty-three years, aged thirty-two my journey to the ring formally began. My sporting career up until then was far from glamorous but certainly varied. A melting pot of amateur football, racket sports & the occasional round of golf.

For the treasured memories, and friendships these endeavors brought – they’d also brought a knee injury requiring keyhole surgery. Sprinting around the pitch wasn’t such a wise idea now, it was time for the shin pads to go away and the gloves to go on. To go back to the punch bag of my childhood, back to boxing.

The first hurdle was the pure logistics of the training; I started at a local gym but with limited boxing classes on offer soon realised I needed flexibility in terms of access. Once I found a dedicated boxing gym, persistent corrections from the coach showed me that my technique of jumping around throwing wild punches (although fun and weirdly therapeutic) wasn’t going to work. Fitness was another issue, I considered myself a generally sporty chap who’d be okay, however after two minutes of a fitness class I nearly threw up a lung! In boxing a superhuman level of fitness is not the chequered flag – it’s the baseline for getting in the ring.

In these early experiences when I walked into the gym I experienced a strong sense of fear. Many times I'd run from this emotion, however, with experience knew worthy of exploration. I spent time alone reflecting and knew that my fear was connected with the impending journey. The fear was complicated, there were a number of facets both mentally and physically; fear of the training, fear of the fight, fear of telling people and them maybe watching me fight. The fears were present but my desire to overcome was stronger, one gym session after another, I started walking the walk.

Slowly learning the basics and increasing my training over nine-month I was confronted with my biggest challenge so far; the infamous sparring class

For those less knowledgeable on boxing training, this is the class where you put on a head guard and gum shield to test yourself in a semi-competitive environment. As the trainers explained early on, we can hit pads and bags all day long, but they don’t hit back…

‘…sparring is where we really learn the game.’

Man! The nerves I felt that evening walking into the gym. The trainer called my name as if I were being selected for some kind of strange sacrifice. I tapped gloves with my opponent and away we went. It was all a blur – but I remember being amazed at how quickly I was out of breath. Being in an extreme situation (someone trying to pound me into the ground) my brain had executed an adrenaline-charged survival program. All my senses were heightened on full alert and burning energy fast. It was incredibly exciting, however, after about thirty seconds I felt like I’d been sprint training with Usain Bolt.

I completed the class & felt amazing, I’d survived. That’s the deal with fear – there is little else better in life than confronting it and coming out the other side. Sparring had taught me two important lessons. The first was to maintain a level of calm in the fury. I’d gotten too easily caught up in the adrenaline of the moment and as a result, fundamental boxing skills learned previously were forgotten. The second was getting used to being hit. With the choice of; freeze, fight or flight my natural instinct was the latter! But by trying to ‘avoid’, being hurt I was retreating, taking more hits than ever. My coach explained that at certain stages of a fight I would have to take a punch or two in order to get in range and connect with my own shots. I was over another hurdle but there was work to be done. Only more sparring experience and time in the ring would allow me to improve.

In the ensuing months, after taking a great deal of punishment and dishing out a little of my own, I was ready to face my next test. I remember well the apprehension I felt approaching the gym front desk and shakily saying those words - ‘Do you have any fight events open later this year?‘

During this moment I remember passing through a kind of out of body experience. Logic had left me as I smiled, nodded, and signed the paperwork. In a few month’s I would be stepping in the ring with someone intent on trying to knock my head off in front of an audience of my closest friends and family! Exiting the gym my inner critic suddenly appeared with a vengeance, saying - ‘What the f*ck have you done?!’ Thankfully my inner wiser self was also on the scene, firing back saying -

‘50 percent of the battle is over, you’ve committed and said I’m in’

An internal fear had been overcome and my reward came the following week in the form of trainer Martin Dimitrov. Martin had seen my commitment and offered to train me. Martin was a highly respected boxing coach and a previous Bulgarian champion. A disciplined character. Renowned for his brutal fitness classes and top level results. I’d always appreciated his approach but now in his small brood of fellow fighters I was going to be pushed to my limits. No pain…no gain. In preparation the intensity increased ten fold – immediately I moved from the one sparring class a week to three. I was given a strict running program to build stamina. Before and after sparring put through intense drills and bag/pad work.

I was improving but on my boxing fast track, I took some hits, in one sparring session I was on the ropes and took a solid right over the top and my nose was busted open – blood spilling onto the canvas. I had a black eye for a while too, this I discovered, is the best way you can promote a boxing match to friends and family. It didn’t feel like it at the time but looking back I was learning the sport the best way you can, the hard way.

Training with a small group of fellow fighters accelerated my learning. We kept each other motivated, supporting one another through some tough days in the gym. Pummelling each other during intense sparring battles in the ring one moment, sharing stories and jokes outside the next. Both Martin and one of the other fighters in our group named Genadi were to stand in my corner on the night of the fight. Knowing they were going to be there gave me a certain confidence and inner strength, the bonding between a close-knit group of people, with a similar aim has the undoubted power to do that. A week prior to the fight I completed a final full-blooded training session. In this class Martin pushed me to my absolute limit as after one final round of gym sprints I collapsed on the floor panting, covered in sweat. I was ready!

In the days building up to the fight, I felt naturally nervous but confident in the work I’d done in the gym. I even walked differently. A calmer more grounded version of myself.

On the morning of the fight, I awoke to confront a final fear. A fatalistic fear that knew something serious was around the corner. I did my best to keep busy, I must have repacked my bag four times. Moving through the day I began to mentally prepare for the evening ahead, psyching myself up. By the time I got to the fight venue itself, I was ready to get in and go. One small problem, I was last on the bill! There were to be a few more torturous hours ahead before I could claim my prize. In those hours many emotions ran through my body. I sat quietly, I paced up and down – minute by minute my brain flicking between nervousness, calm, confidence, and fear.

Pair by pair others walked the path before me – points or a knockout, victory or defeat. Until only two remained. Now we’re back where I started, three minutes before the fight, in the locker room – me and dad. I knew why I was here now, understood the history, and how it had come to this. These gloves, this arena, the final chapter. Martin stuck his head around the door and said;

‘Clive…..it’s time’

I stood and Martin lead me to the corner of the locker room. He raised his pads and I began to warm up throwing combinations 1,2,3,4….1,2,3,4. I built up a rhythm over the next three to four minutes, focusing me completely on the present. Any remaining thoughts concerning the past or future melted away.

We paused, I turned and there he was, my opponent, our eyes locked for a second and just like that he went through the curtain and was gone. A few more seconds and I was ushered across the room to stand in front of the same red curtain. The sound generated by the crowd was near deafening as the announcer called my name. My music played, I was so close, no turning back now! Brushing the curtain aside I stepped forward into a sea of noise and flashing lights! Moving under the ropes into the ring for a very brief moment I smiled to myself, I'd made it. Deep down inside I knew whatever happened over the next eight minutes…my boxing rites of passage complete.

What happened next? Watch for yourself - below is full video of the fight:

Interested in boxing training? Check out boxing coach Martin Dimitrov’s ‘The Square Boxing Club’ website via the button below: