Hitting the ring for the first time: Sara Hollyman

Nelson Weekly editor Sara Hollyman was one of 34 boxers who got into the ring on Saturday night, many for the first time, at Fight for Rangatahi II at the Motueka Recreation Centre. She shares what it was like to box three two-minute rounds with Motueka’s Nadia Bungard in front of 800 people.

I would just like to say, that for a year now, I’ve been the only one in my household who does not have a medal for a sporting event. My three kids are quick to point out that they have two medals for different sporting codes. It was time to change that.

Watching the joy in my partner when he came home after boxing training and the lead-up to Fight for Rangatahi 2023 was something else. His fitness improved, but more importantly, I could see what it was doing for his mental health.

When he suggested I take part this year, he says my eyes sparkled and that was it.

Never having attempted boxing, and being naturally uncoordinated, I headed to Dixons Boxing gym at the Richmond Showgrounds in January.

The first few months were fitness classes, and learning what the heck a 1,2,3 was. I discovered I’m what they call a southpaw – left-handed, so everything was a little backwards.

I will always remember the anxiety I felt when I heard Randall Dixon say ‘see you at sparring on Tuesday’. Someone was going to punch me in the face, and my defence was, shall we say, weak at best.

But what followed was a group of amazing people who not only look after each other in the ring, but encourage and help whenever they can. They were not out to hurt me.

My wise Yoda Tracy always had wisdom to offer. Namely, ‘stop holding your breath’.

So what’s it like to be punched in the face? It’s surprisingly fun. As the team say: ‘If you take one to the nose, it’s on you’.

My defence quickly improved, to the point I could comfortably take hits and nothing much would touch. Except for Lydia, she twacked me every bloody time, and once I got my first bleeding nose, many more would follow. And, I still tripped over my own feet - often.

A few months out from Saturday’s main event, the training ramped up. Five days a week. Monday to Thursday nights and Sunday lunchtime.

I battled an overwhelming guilt at how much time away from my family I was spending. I hadn’t set foot in my kids’ Scout hall for weeks, I hardly ever had time to get dinner ready, and I was playing tag with my partner when he got home from work. I would head out the door, often arriving home to a house where everyone was asleep.

But I had support.

“Why can’t I do it?” was my partner’s reassurance. “You did it for me”.

Saturday arrived, after a terrible sleep on Friday night. A morning spent in Riwaka watching my boy play rugby was a great way to take my mind off the 800 people preparing to watch me trip over my own feet.

But, when the afternoon arrived, so did the nerves. I couldn’t eat. I was stressing about all the flat tyres we might get on the drive to Motueka, that the car keys were lost forever, or maybe we would be abducted by aliens walking down the driveway. Of course, none of that ridiculousness eventuated and I made it to the Motueka Recreation Centre with plenty of time to spare.

Walking in and seeing the team, all the nerves disappeared. I was ready. Our whānau and friends filtered through the doors, ready to support us no matter what.

Watching both wins and losses in the lead-up to my turn was sobering. But the way my team handled themselves during both was inspiring. It actually didn’t matter if I won or not. I had worked so hard.

Peking Duk’s Fire hit the speakers signalling my turn to walk to the ring. Nadia was already there waiting.

My gameplan had been to go in hard first, after months of always waiting for her to throw the first punch. And that’s what I did. But Nadia always fights back, she comes with force, every time.

All the training went out the window. We both went into survival mode. I had practiced so many uppercuts and knew I had the power behind them. But I reverted to my safety jabs. The crowd disappeared, I couldn’t hear anyone. Except one guy who kept yelling ‘F*** her up, Nadia’. It made me want to punch more.

Time went fast and slow at the same time. I didn’t feel any of her punches and I felt like mine were doing nothing. But watching the video back, that wasn’t the case.

After two rounds, I had nothing left in the tank. The lights beaming down created so much heat, and the fact I had been too stressed to eat was now against me. Standing up for the third and final round I was unsteady on my feet, I felt like she could push me over with her pinky. But, I lasted, and I kept throwing.

When the final bell went, I felt like a winner.

American international ring MC Lt. Dan Hennessy announced the first split decision of the night. But the win went to the blue corner, to me. Pretty sure at that moment, I thought I was Muhammad Ali ‘The Greatest’.

I jumped, I fist pumped, and then I hugged Nadia. We were so proud of each other and what we had gone through to get to that point.

I was so happy I left the ring without my gold medal, which I had to later sneak from the end of the judge’s table.

I can honestly say blood, sweat and tears went into Saturday’s fight night. But I can truly say I’ve never been more proud of myself. I encourage anyone to do something that feels uncomfortable, maybe that you thought you could never do. You might be surprised.

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