Preparing To Fight Taught Me THESE 3 Unexpected Things:

I sit across the desk from Gavin (gym founder and former Australian middleweight champion) as he tells me what a journey I’m in for over the next 10 weeks…

He says there’ll be times where I’ll question myself and want to quit- yet how often guys come back again after Fight Night because of the transformation they experience along the way…

He speaks glowingly of Fight Night- about how it’ll be “One of the best things I’ve ever done”…

I figure he’s giving the whole Fight Like A Pro experience “the big sell”- and why wouldn’t he?

So I go out, shoot a quick video for my YouTube channel with Gavin to announce what I’ve just signed up for, and later that evening come back for the group photo…


It’s always worth doing for the t-shirt…

I have fighting experience already (being a 7th Kyu red belt in Goju Kai Karate) and while the idea of learning boxing appeals to me, I’m not entirely sold on Gavin’s vision of what the coming 10 weeks will be like for me. I’m just keen to learn a new form of physical combat and get my fitness levels up. You see, my year to date has been a difficult one- like an endless trek up a mountain, with no time to stop and rest. That hasn’t pushed me to the point of quitting, neither did any challenge I faced in karate training and so I doubt this is going to be any different…

But as I’ll discover soon enough, I was wrong…over the next 2 and a half months, there are some big lessons and personal revelations to come…

#1. “Did I Get Better?”

So, how did I find the first few weeks of training?

Not too bad.

Learning the techniques to stance, jabbing and punching all required a bit of adjustment from the karate techniques I was grounded in- but aside from that, I saw all this new training and information as just more of the lessons and challenges I’d gone through all year to date. Why would I want to quit? You’d have to be hopelessly out of shape or of weak character to think about quitting.

But then came the time for sparring…

Sparring Night

Gloves on, head guard strapped up tight, mouthguard in, stepping into the ring to spar face to face with an opponent. The real challenge came when I was pitted against the experienced guys- before I could think about throwing a punch, they’d land several with lightning fast blows-


Gloves pounded into both sides of my head and my stomach. They backed me into the corner of the ring with nowhere to retreat. I got belted with nothing in return.

Soon enough, time was up. I sucked in deep breaths, heart pounding, sweat burning.

I thought of Fight Night…

I thought of how guilty I’d feel if people I knew gave up their Saturday night and paid money to come and watch me go out with a whimper. To get beaten here was one thing- but to get my arse handed to me with people watching- people who cared about me?

Who am I kidding? Why am I bothering with this? Stuff boxing, I don’t need to do this…I thought in that moment. What was the point? I was so far off that Fight Night would be a complete anti-climax. Surely even my opponent would feel disappointed that I was such weak opposition for him!

All of this went through my mind in less than a minute, with the idea of being competent at fighting (let alone good) like a mountain peak beyond my reach…


I’d still manage to finish the session. Headgear off, unfasten the gloves, pull the mouthguard out. As I stood there and unwound the wrapping from my knuckles, it sunk in: even if I felt like a human punching bag right now, in some small way I was better than when I began that evenings’ session:

Either my stance had improved, or my jabs and hooks had more power behind them, or I’d be quicker at ducking or slipping my opponents’ punches and hitting him with the counter. It was like this after every training session, without fail. That’s why I kept coming back: the idea that Hey, I might still be far off but I just got better at this. Let’s keep going and see where this leads?

This would lead all the way to Fight Night: 3 rounds and 6 minutes to show everybody how much I’d improved since the day I first stepped into the Fight Like A Pro gym.

I’ll get to that big night soon enough. But first? There were other lessons to come:

#2. “Could I Have Done More?”


I trained 4 times a week: Tuesday afternoons, Wednesday and Thursday evenings- and also at the crack of dawn on Saturday mornings.

At 5:10am my alarm woke me. I’d throw on my trainers, shorts, singlet and zip up my jacket, get into the car and drive down in the winter darkness to our 5:30am rendezvous at Currumbin.

We’d all stretch as the sun peeped up over the horizon, do a light jog for a few k’s and then return for the big slog: 20 minute circuits up and down the steps of Currumbin Alley. Even for someone who represented my school and won medals in Highschool Cross Country, this was an uphill battle in more than one sense of the word:

When you’re expected to jog for 20 minutes straight and every step- going up or down- jars your knees, hips and ankles- you quickly begin to question why you should keep going? I’d think Stuff this, I don’t have to bother with this! How will it make any difference?

Then at last Kevvie, (one of the trainers) would be at the landing, calling out “Come on guys, finish up strong!” in his Kiwi accent. One final blast (especially once in view of the trainers below) and then pull up on the grass, sucking in deep breaths, hands on hips, sweating in the cool morning air.

What a relief it was to be over!

But then something happened-

5 minutes later while stretching down, I’d think of how I could’ve done more. How I could’ve gone harder. Despite how much I resented every step and silently cursed the trainers every time they’d call out for us to “Push harder!” I regretted knowing I could’ve done more. That feeling like I’d conserved something, not pushed myself just a couple of percentage points further?

It felt like a wasted opportunity.

After that realisation, I always gave everything during those morning sessions. Whether it was running those 20 minute cycles or doing sprints, burpees and crawls down on the beach, I kept asking Is this the best I can do? Because I knew that stronger than the will to back off, would be the feeling of regret afterwards if I had something left over and could’ve done more

#3. “What’s The Most Important Thing Right Now?”

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At last- it was Fight Night…

Gavin brought us all together in the ring before our friends, family and guests arrived. He spoke for about 10 minutes and at one point he said that if we stepped into the ring tonight and didn’t feel scared and wonder What am I doing here? then there was something wrong with us!

As it turned out, I was drawn to fight second. Before the opening bout of the night had begun, I was already away in the dressing room with my cornerman Tony and my other trainers, warming up. Soon enough, the time came to go down the corridor, out towards the packed auditorium and await my big entrance. Standing behind the stage, out of view of the crowd, I got last-minute reminders:

“Keep moving, go in and throw a few quick jabs then back out again.”

“You’ve got the reach- use it to your advantage!”

“Remember to back away, don’t be afraid to back away and catch your breath then go in again. If you stay in close range he’ll get to you- make him come to you and wear him out, let him use up his energy coming towards you.”

I was tuned out to everything except what they told me. I felt completely indifferent about the fight I was about to walk into. No emotion, no anticipation. Nothing except committing every instruction given by Tony and my trainers to memory, adding it to my training so far.

Then I got the tap on the shoulder. It was time to go. The announcer introduced me, fighting in the red corner. I hopped up the steps onto the stage, into the blinding lights and camera flashes. I struck a pose and shadow boxed as ‘The Touch’ by Stan Bush blasted through the auditorium- just as I’d requested.

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You got the touch! You got the poweeeeeeeeeer- yeah! After all is said and done, you’ve never walked, you’ve never run- you’re a winner…

I moved to the beat as I strode out, made my way through the crowd, ducked under the ropes and hopped up into the ring.

I paced back and forth. Bounced up and down on my toes.

No nerves.

No gripping fear.

No wondering what I was doing here, with an auditorium full of people about to watch me slog it out for 3 rounds against my opponent, Glenn. I’d sparred him a few times already. I knew he’d be a difficult fighter because no matter how red-faced he got, no matter how gassed he was, he’d go hard right to the end…

Then- he made his entrance, as Bon Scott’s voice boomed through the sound system to guitar riffs that were machine-like in their precision:

Jaaaaail-break! And I’m lookin’ towards the sky….Gonna make a jaaaaaaaail-break! And I wish that I could fly…

But I zoomed right back in to the task at hand. In that moment, it was the only thing that existed in my conscious mind.

Headgear on, gloves strapped tight. The referee brought us together and made the rules clear. Then we returned to our opposite corners. A pause.


There was the bell. This was it.

I recall what followed only in small flashes: the dark void outside the ring. Sizing up Glenn. Someone’s voice from my corner going “Ben- double jab cross!” or “Ben- move away, move away!” Somebody would land a few hits and the cheering would surge.

Then the bell sounded. Back to my corner to sit down and listen to Tony. Just one minute ceasefire until the fight resumed. For that minute, nothing existed in my world except:

a) Getting my breath back and,

b) Every word Tony said

I barely drank from a water bottle held at my mouth, because even that posed a distraction to me.

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I felt no emotion- positive or negative. For me, there was only the will to listen. Then the bell rang- up to my feet again.

By the third round, I yearned for that final bell to come and finish it all. It was now a grim, exhausting slog. I was more agile than Glenn and could throw quicker punches- but he had fists like mallets and if I let my guard down even a moment, he’d be in my face throwing sledgehammer punches. He was tiring quicker, but he wouldn’t let up. As a result, neither could I. Sweat pored from Glenn’s bright red face. I felt myself tuning out to anything but Tony’s voice or the announcer counting down the minutes or seconds left. Meanwhile, the crowd cheered and yelled out incoherently. I felt a brief flash of resentment for them, watching us for their entertainment like trained circus animals. So few of them knew what we were going through. I wanted it to end and I knew Glenn wanted it to end- but neither of us could do a thing about it. So we had to keep going…

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At last! It was over!

The next 45 seconds was the worst feeling of the entire 10 weeks. I staggered to the corner and slumped over the ropes. My legs felt like pipe cleaners. One of the trainers had to peel off my gloves for me, someone patted me on the back and someone else poured the contents of a water bottle into my mouth. Somewhere in the background, ‘What Do You Mean?’ by Justin Bieber played (and that was not my choice). I was rigid on the spot.

It hurt breathing.

It hurt moving a muscle.

It hurt doing anything…

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Some energy slowly returned to me in the following minute, however. The referee brought Glenn and I together, either side of him in the middle of the ring. Glenn had got a few solid shots on me right at the end and barged me up against the ropes- but I’d given him good measure over the whole three rounds.

Then the referee took my right arm and held it aloft.


I was handed the trophy, but it felt like nothing more than a formality. In every bout, somebody wins. Tonight, the win was mine. The announcer came over to me with the mic and asked for my thoughts. I couldn’t manage a lot more than saying how tough it was to fight Glenn and how buggered I was.

That was it. I made brief chatter with Glenn and patted his young son (who he was now cradling) on the head. Then I stepped down from the ring, trophy in hand. My only feeling was relief, nothing more.

But then Tony and my cornermen came over to me and they were full of praise- because I’d gone out and done exactly what they’d told me to do.

At that moment, a great rush of pride surged through me. Like I said, I felt no emotions going into the fight, focusing only on what I needed to do to win, on saving my best fight for when it counted. Despite the overwhelming fatigue- I’d gone and done exactly that. I’d been given a plan to follow in order to stand my best chance of winning- and followed it every step of the way.

For me- that was the real victory.

Leading into that fight- and throughout it- I’d felt on a different level of focus. The intensity was crazy. The crowd, the occasion, how I might feel about stepping into the ring? I’d shut it all out, shut out everything except for the key objectives of the fight.

If I could tap into that level of focus in other areas of my life- working, writing, meditation- what new level of results could I unlock?


In the following months, Gavin would call me back. I was happy to return and resume training amongst familiar faces. I began sparring a new guy there, named Rory. I took him aside one evening and gave him some pointers on his technique, with no idea that (in the end) I would be the one drawn to step into the ring on Fight Night and face off against him…

On the night itself, utilising what he’d learned, Rory saved his best fight for when it counted- and got the win. In every bout, somebody wins. This time, the win was his.

But to the point- my Fight Like A Pro experience gave me some valuable lessons:

I learned that even in getting knocked around and feeling as if we failed, the question that really matters is: Did we do better this time?

I realised that as tiring or frustrating as a task might be, making that extra 1 or 2 percent effort is worth it to reach the other side and know there was nothing more we could’ve done…

And I discovered the power of tapping into a new level of focus- where nothing exists apart from the task at hand and what I need to do to reach its’ desired outcome. I discovered that zooming in completely on an objective- where everything else ceases to exist- is where you cast off emotions or distractions that would otherwise hold you back from reaching your peak.

On that note?

I want to say thanks to Tony. Thanks to my trainers. Thanks Glenn. Thanks to everybody who helped me on my way to that one night in September.

And thanks also to you, Gavin-

You were right after all! (And I never did get my DVD from Fight Night #34- you bet I’m keen to watch it back so if any of you have it- contact me ASAP!)…

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  • If you want to find out more about the Fight Like A Pro Experience, you can get all the info right here: Fight Like A Pro

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What ‘The Voice’ Teaches Us About Keeping People Hooked…


Do you ever watch a movie or show on TV and then go Hang on- I see what’s really going on here! and you wonder how you didn’t notice it until right now? It happened to me one night, just recently…

I’m packing my suitcase for a week’s trip away, and the TV’s on. I’m waiting for ‘60 Minutes‘ to come on because there’s a story I want to catch, but while waiting for it to begin, ‘The Voice‘ is on…

Now I don’t normally watch ‘The Voice‘. Actually, besides sport, I don’t watch a great deal of TV as is- be it FTA or cable. Anything else of interest, I can find online.

But on ‘The Voice‘, they’re doing the intro for an upcoming contestant. She’s 16 and her family are there to watch her audition. They share her back-story, including a home movie of her singing when she was just a small girl. Then comes the story of her father- a military man who was a casualty of the war in Afghanistan. Cut to the news clip of his death and footage of his coffin draped in the Australian flag. This girl says he’d always say “Go” before she sang. Tonight, she says, she’ll hear him say “Go” in her head, as she takes that stage to put herself at the mercy of the 4 judges…

Then of course- straight to the commercial break.

But all of a sudden, despite having little interest in the show- I want to see how this girl fares…

Why should I care about the fate of a single contestant I don’t know on a talent show?

Why do we endure the bombardment of ads, always dividing our introduction to a new contestant and their on-stage audition?

Watching the TV that Sunday night, it suddenly ‘clicks’:

The producers are clever. They don’t get paid the big bucks for nothing.

And if you’re wired the right way, what I’m about to share with you could be a revelation to your marketing, the effect it has on your audience- and the results you get:

Firstly: Imagine if ‘The Voice‘ was covered like the Olympic games?


Imagine if you just saw the name, age and origin of the contestants. Saw them come up to stage. Begin to sing. They do their bit. Members of the panel turn around (or none of them do) and that’s it.

Think about it:

“Here we have Sophie Bush from Lismore. 26 years old and this is her first audition. After that last audition attempt by Chung Lin from Melbourne, she’s got a tough act to follow. Chung, of course, deciding to go with Kelly’s team for the next stage…Sophie’s coming up now and there we see her family…and here she goes, to perform her rendition of Whitney Houston’s 1992 hit from ‘The Bodyguard’, ‘I will always love you’ “

If it just showed Sophie on screen, gave her details and told you she’d be up next with no other introduction, it would be much easier for you to tune out and do something else the moment they went to an ad break…

So, what is it that keeps us hanging on?

Why do we care about somebody we’ve never met, doing something no more life-threatening than getting up on stage to sing a song of their choosing and hoping that at least 1 of 4 pop stars will press their button to say “I like this one”?

Want to know why?

We care because of their story.

We discovered their back story, why they wanted to audition, how long they’ve been singing, what hardships they’ve endured to get here, why it means so much to them to get up there on stage and sing, how it would feel for them if just one of those judges turns around before they finish their song…

So when that 16 year old girl from the Gold Coast talks about her fathers’ death and you see the videos he made of her singing as a young child- the videos he no doubt expected to laugh at with tears in his eyes one day at her 21st or her engagement party as he reflected on how far his little girl had come- we want her to go out there and succeed because you understand how much this means to her. On top of that, we know how much it would mean to her dad as well…

Do it for him- we’re all right behind you!


That’s how they hook us into the story, make us care- and keep us tuned in.

It’s exactly the same with your online content. If all you share is dry, static information like where you’re located and what you do, there’s only a shallow investment from the people who bother to read it.

But if you give them reason to care by sharing your background, your story, your trials and your triumphs and why you do what you do?

People suddenly care about you and they’re eager to hear more! It doesn’t matter if your goal is a common one (to keep making money) because in the process of sharing your story, people invest in you and want to find out more.

The’ll even tolerate your adverts along the way, just to keep hearing from you!

So: How do you achieve this on a regular basis, get people tuning in- and investing?

You do it it through the following two mediums:

#1- Video

In this link is a great example of a 3 and a half minute video where (even if you’ve heard nothing from Kerwin before) you find yourself caring because of the STORY he shares:

#2- Regular Blogging

Sure, you’re going to share your expertise, service updates or important announcements with your online audience- and posts like these are very important in the process of persuasion…

But it can’t just be static information. You need to go deeper and share your personal story- your triumphs AND your struggles. Your goals, why you keep making the effort on behalf of your staff, customers and subscribers and how you got to be where you are.

I get that maybe you don’t have a huge amount of time to be writing, editing and publishing a regular blog. But, when you realise what you stand to gain from doing it in terms of actual results, then you know it’s worth making a priority-

So, if you’d like them to sit up, pay attention and tune in and become somebody they can’t wait to hear more from? Then let’s talk.

You’re the voice: