Okay. Long over due I know, but here's a brief account of what I got up to in Tokyo where I spent a few days before my fight with Kozo. I would have posted the write-up before now but you need to appreciate I had a new Xbox game that demanded much of my post fight energy. The game has now broken. Thank you Microsoft for yet another unsurprising yet still bitter disappointment regarding my Xbox 360. Anyway, I digress. The point is I am now free to take part in the more worthwhile pursuits of surfing the internet and doing write ups/blog entries.
Currently I live in Chiang Mai, training and fighting out of Lanna Muay Thai but occasionally I get fight offers via a gym in Bangkok. This was one such occasion and for two weeks prior to the fight I had been training at Sasiprapa Gym in Bangkok.
I arrived in Tokyo, Narita Airport early on the 23rd of May, with Thakoon (the owner of Sasiprapa), his wife and his son. This was my first time in Tokyo, or indeed Japan for that matter. As you can imagine, for someone who grew up spending his younger years watching ridiculous amounts of anime and wanting to be a ninja I was fairly excited to be there. The promoter of the show was there to meet us at the airport, along with Sandaj and Gau (trainer and fighter respectively that I know from Bangkok). Once the relevant introductions were made, it was off to the parking lot, into a mini van, and onwards to Tokyo.
Narita Airport is to the southeast of Tokyo and a fair drive from our hotel. We stopped about halfway at a service station to get some food, and after a random selection process on my part (me pointing at an indecipherable string of kanji on the menu and hoping it was edible) I was rewarded with a particular satisfying bowl of ramen. From across the table the promoter eyed me suspiciously until satisfied I could operate a pair of chopsticks then returned to chatting with Thakoon. I made a point of copying the rest of the guys at the table, slurping loudly on my noodles as is considered polite. As we left the promoter gave me some money for food, flipping me a casual 15 000 yen for the two days before the fight. This was way more than I needed. I could probably have eaten on about 3000 yen for the two days, especially considering I was cutting weight and wouldn't be allowed much food or drink. Over the next few days in Tokyo I was given a further 20 000 yen "just in case". It was a bit like having an over generous uncle. One who you can't understand. And is Japanese. And you're not sure if he likes you. Actually it was nothing like an uncle at all. My point is I was well cared for.
The hotel was to the north, in Misato, a fairly quiet area in comparison to central Tokyo. My room was typically Japanese, incredibly small but very well equipped. A narrow bed took up the majority of the room with a small TV on the right hand side that boasted a full complement of bizarre and wonderful Japanese channels. The bathroom itself felt a bit like a very well furnished airplane toilet. You step inside and close the door behind you, shutting yourself in an almost airtight plastic cubicle with toilet, shower and bath. The bath, as is the norm in Japan, was much deeper than the baths we're used to in the west, and eventually proved crucial during the last day of weight cutting. The toilet was fairly unremarkable but for the set of controls at the side. Now, to explain, in Thailand instead of scrubbing your ass raw with toilet paper you're presented with a convenient ass hose. As the name suggests, it's basically a hand held power hose to be used with extreme care to clean your nether regions post... whatever. Well in Japan, things have advanced somewhat. You now have a button you push, at which point a small electronic hose whirrs into action and does the job for you. You can control the heat, the angle and the power of the jet of water with the control panel at the side. Caution is advised.
A five minute walk from the hotel was the gym. On the first evening in Tokyo, Thakoon and I took a wander along for a bit of light training. It was raining gently and the air had a crispness to it you begin to miss when you live in Thailand. It was getting late and by the time we crossed a few sets of traffic lights and under a railway bridge it was dark. The gym itself lay on the corner and, like my hotel room, was small but well equipped. Roughly 1000 sqft of training space, a matted green floor, bags of various sizes and a decent sized ring. A selection of free weights plus a leg press machine sat behind the ring, with scales and a small changing area off to the side. One side of the gym was mirrored with two walls devoted to floor to ceiling windows. Any available wall space was filled with fight posters from over the years. Most of them featured Kozo.
We removed our shoes at the door and stepped inside. Gau and Sandaj were there and after saying hello Thakoon took me over to meet Kozo, who was also doing a bit of light training in order to sweat out the last few pounds and make weight. We went through the customary bow, nod a bit, shake hands, take a few photos stuff then went our separate ways. Kozo was a little shorter than me, tough looking, with a strong looking back, powerful legs and an apparent inability to smile. Anyway, I got changed. Long sleeved t-shirt, shorts and hat, and started to skip. It was too close to the fight for hard training. All I really wanted to do was check my weight, do a light warm up and stretch, then leave. I broke a sweat, loosened up a bit and checked my weight. I was sitting about 73.5kg, two and a half kilos over fight weight, which at two days before the weigh-in was perfect. I got changed, and after taking one more photo with Kozo, left. That night I got some food in the form of more noodles, followed by an early bed and a good nights sleep.
It was the morning of the 24th, the day before the fight. I checked my weight when I woke. 73kg. Fine. The weigh in was at 10am the following day. That meant that as of 10am today my fluid intake was going to be severely restricted. After showering, I took the lift downstairs to meet Thakoon and his wife, had a light breakfast of rice balls, miso soup and pickled vegetables and headed out into Tokyo for a bit of sightseeing. I won't bore you with excessive details of the day. Suffice to say that as of about the time we left the hotel I was pretty much allowed no fluid, so the day's activities provided a welcome distraction to the growing feeling of thirst and dehydration. We spent a fair amount of time going round in circles in the spaghetti like maze of Tokyo's train and underground system, eventually finding our way to Ueno, Shinjuku and a final quick look at Harajuku before heading back to the hotel in the evening. On the way back I stopped at the supermarket and stocked up on supplies for after the weigh-in (the intention is always to weigh-in, then get off the scales and immediately begin to rehydrate and refuel). At the hotel, I checked my weight again (at 72kg I was only one kilo over) ate very sparingly, had a hot bath to sweat out an extra half kilo and finally an early bed.
Fight day! Oh shit! I overslept. Useless piece of shit alarm! Not really that big a deal (I'm not late or anything) but I was intending to get rid of the last spot of weight that morning before going to the weigh in. Not to worry. My bag is packed and ready to go so I head downstairs to meet Sandaj, who walks me to the gym where we pile into a van with the promoter and head to Karakuen hall for the weigh-in.
Karakuen Hall is in the same complex as the famous Tokyo dome, home of the K1-Max and frequently holds some top class kickboxing and Muay Thai shows. We're there pretty early, so I quickly get changed into a pair of shorts, hoodie and a hat to promote sweating, and start skipping. By the time the room has filled up with fighters, trainers and promoters I've broken a good sweat, but keep skipping whilst a few of the other fighters weigh in just to be safe. Kozo weighs in without fuss and leaves. I finish up, strip down to my underpants and after using a towel to wipe off any excess sweat, step on the scales. 71kg. Bang on. Sweet. I hop off the scales, open up my bag and begin to sip my way through a 2 litre bottle of water (I'll drink at least another two of these over the next 6-8 hours along with multiple small meals until I feel back to normal). Munching my way through a bowl of pasta whilst still working on the 2 litres of water, I sit down while the doctor gives me a check up. He takes my blood pressure a few times, seeming concerned by the results, but relaxes a bit when I mention I've just been skipping for the past 20 mins.
It's only about 11am at this point. I'm probably not fighting until at least 8pm, and not expected to make an appearance at the venue until about five, so myself and another fighter, Miyamoto, who knows Thakoon from Thailand, head to a local Japanese style sauna to relax. Being about 5kg dehydrated already, and desperately trying to restore fluid levels as well as eat, the idea of sitting in a sauna doesn't really appeal to me at this point. Goes to show what I know! The 'sauna' turns out to be so much more than just a hot claustrophobic room with sweaty naked men. It's more like a day care centre for stressed individuals, a sanctuary from the congestion of Tokyo where a number of pastimes are at your disposal. After removing your shoes, you're presented with a bathrobe and matching shorts, and once changed, are free to do as you please. Three floors boasting massages, spas, Jacuzzis, reclining armchairs with TV's built into them, a darkened room lined with beds if you feel tired (not actually as dodgy as it sounds) and indeed, a sauna. I'm tired (cutting weight kicks your ass in a way no fight ever does) so I neck some more water, stuff some more food in my face, and find a bed in the corner to crash out in. Miyamoto does the same. And that was my day. Doze for an hour or two, wake up, grab more food and water from my locker, consume said food and water, go back to sleep. Repeat ad infinitum. Around 4pm, my otherwise pleasant afternoon is brought to a disappointing conclusion by the arrival of an elderly Japanese gentleman who sets up shop in the bed next to me and proceeds to snore like a rabid warthog. Oh well. Fun's over. I get up, go downstairs (discreetly kicking the old dude's bed on the way past for good measure), eat, drink, shower, get dressed, and head back to the venue with Miyamoto.
I'm shown to my locker room, a small room downstairs with a TV in it showing a live feed to the ring, Massage table in the corner. Smell of Thai oil and sweat. Boxing tape everywhere. Sound of people warming up. The usual. There are a load of fights on before the main event (me) and they're just starting now. I set my stuff out. Shorts, box, gum shield, wraps, tape, ankle supports, vaseline, Thai oil. Sorted. I grab my water and some more food and head upstairs to watch some fights. Overall, the standard is pretty high and the show runs really smoothly. As soon as one fight is over, the next guys are pretty much in the ring. Fights are fast and furious, fought at a much more intense pace than in Thailand. Lots of fast boxing combinations, lots of low kicks. Not much clinching. Miyamoto wins a well earned victory over his opponent from Hong Kong. About an hour before the fight I head back downstairs and get my shorts on. Thakoon wraps my hands and gives me a rubdown, then leaves me to warm up. I get given my gloves. A nice pair of blue Windy 8oz lace ups. Half an hour later Thakoon and I are led upstairs where we wait for my name to be called.
Fight time! The guy holding the door closed gives me a nod and throws them open. I step out at the top of the arena. It's dark but for the ring which is lit in a blinding display of red and blue strobes and the music is deafening. I receive a luke warm applause as I descend the stairs, walking through the crowd and bowing three times at the foot of the ring before hopping over the ropes and going to my corner. The announcer rattles off in Japanese. I hear the words "Koooooooooooooozo!!! TA-KE-DAAAAA!!!". The crowd erupts. You've got to put it in perspective. The guy's a bit of a legend in Japan. He's got his own fan club (in fact they're here, I can see them). He also has a fluffy white robe. I have no robe. Dosn't matter. Anyway, my shorts are significantly cooler than his.
Round 1: Pretty even round. I was anticipating this vicious mother of all hammering low kicks, and when it came in it was pretty hard, but nothing I couldn't deal with. I took a few but blocked solidly on most of them. For my part I out boxed him, and landed a good few low kicks of my own. Oh yeah! And I shinned him in the stones a couple of times. Draw for the first round I would say.
Round 2: Came out strong. Out boxed him. Landing some hard, crisp shots, and my fair share of low kicks. We clinch, and I slip out under his guard, coming in with more boxing. More kicks in the stones too, though to be honest I think it was a lot of fuss over nothing. I mean, he's got short legs, and hence, his nuts will hang lower, so my aim was a bit off, and he's got a fucking cast iron cup defending him! Come on! Kidding. Sort of. My round.
Round 3: Fairly even, though looking back, in all fairness I don't think I deserved to win mainly because of the last round. He lands some hard low kicks towards the end, and tags me with a left hook. Nothing serious. He also fakes a cheeky low kick and scones me in the chops with a right hand (yeah that's the one in the photo). Contrary to how it looks there wasn't much in it though. I continue to land some hard shots with boxing and low kicks but nothing that can stop him. I do put him on his ass with a nice fake low kick front kick thing. Anyway, round to Kozo.
Crowd is chanting "TA-KE-DA!!! TA-KE-DA!!! TA-KE-DA!!!" so no surprise when they give it to him. One judge had the good grace to give it as a draw. A close fight. Props to Kozo.
And that was that. We went for a huge Japanese meal afterwards which was amazing. Copious amounts of sashimi, tempura, noodles and loads more. Plus saki. All good. Apart from the fact that we were sitting at very low Japanese style table (sitting cross legged just wasn't happening after those low kicks). The following morning I got up early, grabbed my bag, said goodbye to Thakoon, and headed off. I deliberately left early so I could spend a bit of time in Tokyo free of fight nerves. Did a bit of shopping. Had a look round Harajuku. Bought some ninja boots to make myself feel better. Had too much coffee.
I arrived in Bangkok late on the 26th of May, staying one night before popping to the gym the following morning to grab my stuff then heading back up to Chiang Mai. This fight officially puts me on a losing streak. Something I'm not used to. My next fight will be won if I have to kill myself doing it.
Back in training now. Got my head straight. Got some good fights coming up. Bring it on!