14/09/2026
Four years ago, I became a coach.
And honestly?
I was terrified.
I didn't feel ready.
I had spent years fighting. Years learning. Years accumulating skills and knowledge.
But knowing something and believing you're ready to stand in front of people and teach it are two very different things.
I actually had to go for coffee with my coaches so they could tell me I was ready.
They believed in me before I properly believed in myself.
Four years ago today, I took the leap anyway.
Partly because I wanted to become a coach.
But honestly, it was also out of necessity.
I needed to change my life.
I'd spent years building a skillset, and I needed to find a way to use it to build something better.
I'd had the dream since I was 16.
Become a fighter.
Win belts.
Open a gym.
Pass it on.
I'm 29 now.
I'm living the dream I had as a kid.
That's something I don't think I'll ever take for granted.
But all that glitters isn't gold.
Getting here has taken a hell of a toll on me mentally.
The gym became my life.
I've always been obsessive, but building this place changed the way I think, work and function completely.
There have been plenty of times I've wondered whether I'm actually good enough.
Whether I belong.
Whether I'm doing the right thing.
Whether I'm building something that will last.
And maybe the strangest part is that I think I've built a place where other people feel like they belong...
while a part of me still asks whether I belong in my own room.
That's something I'm still working on.
But the imposter syndrome has slowly started to lose its grip.
I look at the coach i'm becoming.
I look at the athletes I've worked with.
I see people flourishing.
And for the first time, I'm genuinely excited about finding out who I can become as a coach.
Because I've learned that coaching isn't about making people need you forever.
Quite the opposite.
No athlete is truly yours.
You get a period of their life.
You have to cherish that time.
And a good coach should ultimately do their job so well that one day their athlete doesn't need them anymore.
That's one of the hardest and most beautiful things I've learned.
I've also learned that I don't build this place alone.
Habib Rahman walked through the door on day one.
He was green. I didn't just see his skills.
I saw his morals.
I pulled him to one side and said:
"Mate, I've never done this before, but I'd like you here to build this with me."
Two short years later, he's a sponsored Royal Navy athlete, a coach at CCC, a coach with Combat Sports Initiative, an inspiration to the kids and someone I've shared more scraps, laughs and experiences with than I could possibly count.
If I could give him every bit of knowledge I've got, I'd give it to him tomorrow.
That's my boy.
Not just my student.
My brother.
My mate.
Neel Parekh has been there through thick and thin too.
He helped me build the kids classes, became a qualified assistant coach and gave so much to this place.
He's on hiatus now while he builds his mechanic business, and I genuinely miss having him around.
And Muaythai Garby...
Garby has changed me massively.
He's made me believe in myself as a coach, as a fighter and as a person.
He's supported me every step of the way.
He's made me a champion and I'll never repay him for that.
I've learned from so many people over these four years.
And, importantly, I've learned from the athletes too.
Some of the photos in this album hit me harder than others.
Lexie and Lissy especially.
They were some of the first people to take a chance on me.
I remember having to project confidence and bravery onto those young girls at times when I didn't feel particularly brave myself.
And looking back, I think they taught me just as much as I taught them.
Maybe more.
That's the thing about coaching.
You think you're there to teach people.
Then you realise they're teaching you too.
Four years has taken me onto mats I used to dream about walking onto.
Mikes Gym in Amsterdam.
I've coached at Bad Company twice.
I grew up watching Liam Harrison.
I learned my low kick from him.
My coach Dee Jay fought Andy Howson twice.
And suddenly I'm standing on Lisa and Richard's mats as a coach.
I've trained with Damien Alamos, my favourite Thai fighter ever, and had him be impressed with my work.
I've got two British titles.
And somehow, those moments can still feel less important than a kid walking through the door who didn't believe they belonged somewhere, and watching them slowly realise that maybe they do.
That's what I want CCC to become.
Something that makes people question how we teach.
How we develop athletes.
How we support our communities.
How we give young people somewhere to belong.
I don't want to simply run another martial arts gym.
I've spent a lifetime getting here.
So I'm going to spend the rest of it seeing just how far I can take it.
Maybe it works.
Maybe it doesn't.
Every day and twice on a Sunday, I'll still turn up and put the work in.
Because I'm stubborn as hell.
And I have this ridiculous belief that somehow I always come out of the barrel of manure smelling of roses.
The rest is in God's hands.
Four years ago, I was a scared kid who didn't think he was ready.
Today, I'm still learning.
Still questioning.
Still making mistakes.
Still trying to become better.
But I look through these 20 photos and realise something.
I did it.
The dream I had at 16 actually happened.
And now I've got another dream.
To build something that outlives me.
Something that gives other people what this sport gave me.
Something that leaves a mark.
Something that makes people say:
"They did things differently there."
Not because we thought everyone else was wrong.
But because we were brave enough to ask whether there was something better.
We're not following a blueprint.
We're drawing one.
Four years.
Thank you to every person who has trusted me enough to let me coach them.
Every person who has helped me.
Every person who has challenged me.
Every person who stayed.
Every person who taught me something without even knowing they were teaching me.
And especially the people who believed in me when I wasn't sure I believed in myself.
I built the place I needed.
And somewhere along the way...
I think I found my place too.
Home of the Underdogs. Till the wheels fall off.
🐺❤️