Week 7, and each morning I wake with a vast, imaginary calendar
looming over my head, another day has begun; another day crossed
off; just 9,8,7,6… more days until Fight Night. How will I fare
under extreme pressure, with up to 1,200 people screaming for or
against me? How will my body and brain deal with the inevitable
adrenalin pumping through my veins? Am I strong enough, tough
enough, focused enough?
As I mentioned last week - I get to share these nerve-jangling
questions with Georgie - Big G - Banton, also trained by the
legendary Cathy Brown (www.cathybrown.co.uk).
Brown is both the devil on our shoulder and the bright, shining
light that spurs us on. "Only me!" She'll say gleefully as
she's battering us with 'light' shots, far harder and quicker than
anybody else in the gym is capable of. Often, during these (Brown's
more demonstrative) moments, I find myself either holding back
tears of fury and frustration, or, quite simply, wanting to punch
her in the nose.
I know better than that of course - you don't try and land a jab
on a European flyweight champion unless you actually enjoy pain and
humiliation - just as I know that this, Brown's application of
'pressure' (hunting us down in the ring for 120 very long seconds)
is a labour of true love. In the boxing world this, it seems, is
how a coach conveys their affection for their fighters. Essentially
it's a case of tough love. Even (especially, perhaps) in our last
week of hard training (in Week 8 we'll be tapering), Brown
continues to apply and relieve pressure with perfect timing so that
we are confident but not cocky; excited but also nervous and, more
generally, aware of the whole fight as a unique and beautiful
thing, however terrifying it might feel. We've put in so much hard
work, she tells us: it's important to try and enjoy (or at least
appreciate) the whole experience. To keep fighters aggressive and
primed for action, without completely annihilating their calm, is,
I'd imagine, not easy. I think, however, that so far Brown has
managed it, not helped by the appearance in the gym recently of
professional boxer (and now contestant on 'I'm a Celebrity, get me
out of here'), David Haye who, upon hearing that Big G and I were
taking up the challenge of a 'white collar' fight, informed us that
it would definitely be 'the worst experience' of our lives. After
the initial resentment, fear and fury I felt towards Haye (who was
of course only 'joking' - ha bloody ha - but also crushed my
confidence by adding that fighting is like 'being chased by a lion'
and no amount of sparring can get your ready for it), my gratitude
for having Brown as my coach just increased tenfold; I can only
imagine what a dribbling wreck I'd be right now had I been coached
by Haye for my first fight.
On Friday, after our last full-on sparring session, I looked
around at the men and women in Soho's The Third Space who have
helped me prepare for Fight Night (sometimes with words, but often
with an unpleasant thump in the solar plexus) and I felt a surge of
pure love. "Thank you for hitting me!" I wanted to shout! "Thankyou
for making my nose bleed and jaw go all stiff!" Because it's
changed me, and for the better, yes, boxing has changed who I am.
It's shown me what I'm capable of enduring; it's reacquainted me
with a fire in the belly that I haven't truly felt since I was a
child, running around, beating up boys in the playground, aged 4,
and it's reminded me, yet again, of the power of the mind which,
when turned to good use, can achieve the seemingly impossible.
As far as I'm concerned, anybody who steps into the ring after
weeks, months or years of training, is a winner already. I wonder
how many hours I've spent in the boxing ring, preparing for this
night. At a guess, I'd say that by the time Fight Night arrives,
it'll be about 150 hours. I'm hoping it's enough to make me the
victor, but who knows. Of course I'd like to win the fight on
Friday, but I know that really, it's not important and all that
matters is this: I am going to give my three rounds in the ring
every single shred of every last sliver of every tiny ounce of…
everything I've got… (and then, I'm going to send a letter via ITV1
to David Haye in the jungle and tell him he was wrong).
Fight night is 16November 2012. To buy tickets (£25, £35 or
£45), contact: fightformind@yahoo.com
If you want to sponsor Lucy (all the money raised goes to MIND),
please visit www.justgiving.com/frylucy
