LESSON FROM THE NELSONS

Being the occasional insomniac – no, I’m lying – being a habitual insomniac, I was flipping channels the other day when I stumbled across something on a random channel that almost knocked me off my knock-off couch. Showing on KOTV was a truly memorable Azumah Nelson fight from decades ago.

I felt a tsunami of memories flooding my mind and I remembered exactly where I was when that particular fight aired live (yes, I know I’m old school). That was the era when GBC-TV hadn’t been funkified to GTV. Transmission started at about 16:00 every weekday and 10:00AM on weekends. They brought “transmission to a close” at midnight, every night. The Azumah Nelson fight was at 05:00AM. What that meant was that the station will bring the fight live to the nation and after the fight the personnel – together with their Abraham Lincoln-period machines – will go to sleep again, and resume broadcast at 10:00AM.

I was a little tyke with no fancy-ass alarms on a smart phone. I did have a JJ Rawlings-type resin CASIO watch (or at least so I told myself as a youth) though, but I couldn’t work the alarm on it. So in order not to miss important bouts I would quite senselessly leave the TV on overnight, hoping that the animated, excitable and slightly annoying commentators’ voices would wake me up. And it always worked. (Of course, I had never seen an electricity bill in my life!)

Back to the present, as I stared at my TV, I couldn’t believe my eyes and I don’t think my eyes could believe me either. KOTV started their show right from when “Professor” Azumah Nelson emerged out of the dressing room with just his trainer and an official.

The further he moved from the room, the bigger his entourage grew. He must have been some sort of magnet. First appeared in the shot - a man who by his exaggerated, overly calm disposition – I could tell was some sort of spiritual leader or a Pastor. Then a few flunkies and hangers-on came to enjoy their 15 seconds of fame around him and disappeared.

A few burly minders showed up on each side of the Champ. Then a handful of acquaintances appeared to whisper some encouragement to “Zoom-Zoom” Nelson. He acknowledged some close family members but kept moving. Professor Azumah Nelson was jogging, throwing jabs and upper-cuts at imaginary opponents, psyching himself up as he moved towards the ring. His trainer was doing his bit as well. He was shouting at the top of his voice, reminding the Champ that he is indeed a Champ. Sometimes he massaged the Champ’s shoulders. Other members of the training team were chanting and singing some non-songs off-tune.

As he got to the stretch before the ring, the spectators roared. They had paid to see a spectacle. They had spent loads of money to hopefully see someone get knocked out. Some of them were supporters of Mr Nelson and they hollered their approval on sight of the great man. People who could, touched him and whispered encouragements.

On the the fence, there were neutral fans who felt it was their natural right to hurl abuse at the Champ. They swore and shook their fists at him. He paid them no mind.

On the extreme, there were supporters of his opponent who sang loudly trying –albeit unsuccessfully- to drown out inspirational music of Azumah Nelson’s choice that was being thumped out of speakers in the background.

After Zoom-zoom waved at all the four corners of the arena (he waved at all corners of the arena, not just where he perceived his fans.A Champ), he entered the ring………alone. Yes, he was by himself. He was alone to face brain-damaging blows and to throw and land as many as he could himself.

I may not have noticed it as a young buck, but I couldn’t help but notice this time ‘round. What I had just witnessed was remarkably similar to real life. There were differences but the common features were overwhelming.

Nobody knows what struggles you survive while you’re in the womb. Only a few would ever know what your mum went through during labour. But she pushed, oh yes, she did and when you finally touchdown, the circus begins. People will fawn over you and tell you how really cute you are, while you’re with your guardian (trainer).

Everybody and their mothers will advice your trainer/guardian how to nurture you and nourish you. The spiritual leaders will come with all sorts of revelations and prophesies.

You’ll have flunkies and yes men on the journey. You’ll meet friends that will cheer you on and enemies that would want to shut you down. You’ll meet a few neutrals who may even support you half-heartedly. But when it comes to the nitty gritty; the ring, you’ll find yourself by yourself. You’ll be alone. Like Jay Kwame Owusu once said “you’ll turn around and wonder where the hell everybody went”.

You’ll have to learn to duck, to swerve, shuffle your feet, and intimidate your enemy all by yourself. You’ll have to learn to take punch after skull-shattering punch on the chin from LIFE, and give out a lot more by yourself. You’ll learn that after a few seconds rest, comes another round of torture from LIFE. You’ll have to go out protecting yourself at all times and think quicker than your opponents. There may be times when you really feel like giving up in LIFE, but you wouldn’t want to let the close people around you down. Best of all, you wouldn’t want to let yourself down. You have to fight like a champion even when you get knocked down. You may have to get up and keep on keeping on.

Unlike boxing though, LIFE doesn’t come with a referee or a white towel. (Thank you Adam and Eve!)

I kept on watching Mr Azumah Nelson, back of my mind I admired what a great warrior he was and how I wish I had half the balls he had. Just at the moment, and as if on cue, the Professor landed three unanswered shots. The crowd were on their feet, screaming excitedly. The Professor took his time and landed one more shot right on the nose of his adversary, who froze for a couple of seconds before falling awkwardly on his backside.

The referee did the count. He may well have counted to 1,000 because the poor fellow wasn’t getting up anytime soon. His corner was frantic. They were rushing all over the place after the fight. (Does that not remind you of life after life is over? How some people get busy all of a sudden when someone is counted out?)

The champ though, was on someone’s shoulder waving the Ghana flag, singing inspirational music with that infectious ear-to-ear grin on his sweaty face. He was knackered, drained and probably in pain. But both hands were raised high in a true Champion’s pose – proud and imposing.

I silently whispered a prayer that I hope in LIFE’s many fights; I can do an Azumah NELSON (or the other warrior NELSON Mandela) every time.

@lennybriscoeii

www.lennybriscoe.blogspot.com