When the student is ready …
“When the student is ready the teacher will appear.”
―Tao Te Ching
The picture above is of an old school ABA coaching patch, issued in the early 1980s. It’s somewhere around 40 years old. It’s one of my most cherished possessions―not because of its age or rarity―but because of who gave it to me.
As I write this, I am at a crossroads in life. Earlier this year I quit my IT job of over 25 years to pursue a career as a full-time boxing coach. This prospect―back in 2008 when I started to box―would have been about as realistic as becoming an astronaut.
That I am able to pursue this dream is because of a few very special people. And one man in particular: Mr Les Welsh―the man who gave me that ABA badge.
Lost …
The year 2008 found me lost and looking for something I couldn’t put my finger on. The previous year I had finally manged to address a chronic addiction to alcohol. As someone who likes to keep my private-life private, it’s not easy to disclose that in a public blog. But the story demands the context.
To a shy person, alcohol can become a superpower. I discovered it from an early age. I enjoyed many happy―sometimes reckless―times living a misspent youth.
But over the years, alcohol became my master. It succeeded in unravelling my life at alarming rate. That whole subject is a post for another day, as even now, it is still very raw. But suffice to say, after a year of sobriety, I was still somewhat cast adrift.
I’d managed to get myself into decent shape having trained for and completed the Great North Run. But a strange sense of needing ‘something else’ pervaded my thoughts around that time. Drinking had become my only hobby. Now that it was gone, there was a large bottle-shaped void to fill.
Both of my sons were attending our local boxing club at the time. In the past I had dropped them off and picked them up at the designated time. On Tuesday nights I would still be nursing a vicious hangover. On Thursdays I’d be anticipating the hedonistic drinking days ahead. Dropping my boys off at the club was a chore. To say I will be eternally ashamed of this is a massive understatement.
But one night in early 2008, one year sober, I sat outside the club waiting for my boys. It’s amazing what you begin to notice and appreciate in life once you avert your gaze from the bottom of a glass. For the first time, I studied the steady stream of boxers as they left that venerable old building.
To a person, they were smiling, laughing, joking―bouncing off to waiting cars or jogging back home. Interest piqued, I decided I would arrive 10 minutes earlier for the next session and take a look inside.
Sure enough, I plucked up the courage and skulked into the gym to witness the end of that night’s boxing. In that moment, I walked into a new life.
The gym was a hive of activity. Boxers hitting the bag, hitting pads, skipping, working through callisthenic circuits. A low hum of rhythmic beats, punctuated by shouts and exhortations from coaches. Even in late Winter, the air had a sultry tropical feel to it. Moisture dripped from the many mirrors mounted on the perimeter walls.
At that point, I knew with all my heart that I wanted to sample this experience first hand.
The next 9 years changed my life forever. Many recovering alcoholics use a 12 step recovery programme. They depend on the support and community of fellow addicts.
Many turn to religion. When I found boxing, it’s fair to say I discovered my own congregation. And I was lucky enough to gain a mentor―a remarkable man who would help me immeasurably over the years to come.
The quote at the beginning of this article is a Chinese proverb. Does it speak to self-sufficiency? Or a more ephemeral providence?
Without getting spiritual, I’ve come to believe that some things happen for a reason. And maybe―just maybe―when a student is ready, a teacher appears.
The teacher (Les), and the student (myself)―we both share a love of proverbs and quotations. So I thought I’d structure this post around some of my personal favourites. I hope this will give you an insight into my coach, and the other wonderful people that helped me along the way.
Giving without receiving
“When you can give without expecting anything in return, you have mastered the art of living.”
—Jon Mead
When I began training back in 2008 I was too old to box for the club. Until the ABA created the Masters division, over 34s could not box. Many clubs would not have entertained a 37 year old. They often consign older beginners to a ‘keep-fit’ class. But, I had the privilege of training with the senior boxing squad.
Les and his team gave me everything they had, when I had pretty much nothing to offer in return. This would progress to me sparring and—through a change of rules—competing. They allowed me to fulfil a dream.
To give without any expectation of a return is the mark of a very special person. Les, his wife Margaret, and assistant coaches Davey Johnstone and Mick Welsh—they have carried out this selfless community service for decades. They are true public servants in every sense of the word.
Doing the right thing
“Character is doing the right thing when nobody’s looking.”
―J.C Watts Jr.
As I was to discover, boxing can be a dirty old sport. For every decent, scrupulous person, pugilism has its fair quota of unscrupulous villains.
Les never let the desire to win taint his moral code. He and his wife Margaret are firm believers that fairness and equity are paramount in boxing.
You’ll see this at their shows. Matchmaking is always fair and never slanted towards their own boxers.
These qualities don’t just extend to competition. The club perform many acts of community altruism every year. But one night will always stay with me.
A colleague from my day job had a grandchild who needed life-saving surgery. I asked Les if we could send a fund-raising bucket around the room at the forthcoming home show. As expected, he agreed.
Later, when the crowd dispersed I saw him reach into his wallet. He deposited a considerable amount of his own money (in notes) to the collection. All without fanfare or knowing anyone was watching.
If any story tells you all you need to know about Les Welsh it is this one. He won’t thank me for sharing it, but I’m sharing it anyway. The man would give you the last penny in his pocket. All without complaint or expectation or repayment.
The willingness to listen
“You can’t let praise or criticism get to you. It’s a weakness to get caught up in either one.”
―John Wooden
This post isn’t a hagiography. There were times when I disagreed with Les, and he with me. But I always felt able to talk things out with him. He would always hear me out, then in true Brian Clough style, we would agree that he was right! ;)
But seriously, The Gaffer would always take suggestions and constructive criticism on board. And he’d never hold a grudge. Few mentor-protégé dynamics offer that kind of humility. And this outlook always bled out into the gym. He is always open to new ideas. I’ve seen many coaches who don’t share that commitment to learning.
On one occasion he gave me a real dressing down for a mistake I made as we cornered a bout. This was done in the heat of a contest and he was completely in the right. It was my mistake, and mine alone.
Afterwards, when things had calmed down, he took responsibility for the error. He owned it as the chief cornerman. That always stuck with me. That is leadership.
Seeing the best in people, but preparing for the worst in them
“Expect the best. Prepare for the worst. Capitalise on what comes.”
―Zig Ziglar
I often found it hard to stomach some of the dark arts in boxing―the injustice in particular. One club in particular would try every dirty trick in the book to gain an advantage for their boxers. This would annoy me no end.
Les gave me so much insight into spotting these transgressions. But he’d expose them with good humour, unless they were particularly egregious. And again, he would not hold a grudge.
Many times I would bemoan a coach or official and he’d try to point out their more favourable attributes.
Saying the right thing
“Strong people don’t put others down … They lift them up.”
―Michael. P Watson
My coach was never shy in dishing out a bollocking. Boxing is a serious business and situations often require strong words. But he also has the capacity to say the sweetest things.
In a competitive boxing squad, self deprecation and ribbing is a must. The right usage fosters a spirit that is nigh on unbreakable. I am a short guy and like everyone else, I would have to take the quips with a smile, sometimes from the man himself.
But that same man would often put his arm around my shoulder and whisper―”They don’t sell caviar in big tins, son”.
Coming from him, that made me feel a foot taller.
Doing it when it's difficult
"Behold I do not give lectures or a little charity. When I give, I give myself."
―Walt Whitman
Anyone can train when they feel good. It is the champions who do it when they feel tired or dispirited. The same applies to coaches.
Like everyone else, Les and Margaret Welsh experience life's slings and arrows. But they always ensure that the gym is open. Margaret in particular deserves a medal. The woman is a dynamo―a tornado of productivity. Their resilience is an inspiration.
Full circle
To finish off, I want to return to the quote that kicked off this article. There is a second part that often gets overlooked.
“When the student is ready the teacher will appear. When the student is truly ready, the teacher will disappear.”
―Tao Te Ching
I hope that I managed to repay a tiny bit of the debt that I owe Les and his team. Regardless of that, when it came time to move on, I left with nothing but love, good wishes and encouragement.
When I kicked off my personal training business, Les was only too happy to help. He brought elite boxers along to my community classes. He is always on hand to offer advice. To allow me to move on without rancour or bitterness shows the quality of the man.
That I am able to pursue a living through boxing coaching is because of Les Welsh. He played a major role in my continued sobriety and the personal development of my wonderful sons.
That he chose to give me his first coaching badge is an incredible honour. That he chose to educate me as a coach is a privilege.
He is an outstanding human being and I am forever in his debt.
