I sat in the dressing room as usual before the fight! You all know that tense, nervous feeling when you just wait to get out there and get the whole thing over with!

It’s not really the fight that is the scary part, it’s the wait! Those long, extremely painful minutes where you imagine your upcoming opponent as something gruesome, A guy with pole like forearms, bulging muscles all over, and ferociously vicious hands. A KO-machine!

It was during one of those dreadful times in the locker room that a guy, a boxer, preparing for his own bout (before mine) felt like talking”.

I was sixteen years old and had received the following info about my opponent, Stefan Andersson from BK Fox in Malmö. He was 19 or twenty years old, somewhat of a crowd pleasing brawler, had knocked a few Danes out in impressive fashion.

That was it really, but it was more than enough information to trigger my imagination plenty.
I shouldn’t have asked, I thought to myself!

Anyway this particular youngster, very eager to talk, came straight at me! “Are you fighting “Frippe”? Who? I said! “Frippe” Stefan Andersson he replied! And I nodded in his direction. “Yes I am!”  

Suddenly the guy looked terrified surprised mixed in one, like someone had hit him with a truck! Quickly he threw a question back at me! Have you ever seen him spar? ”Ehhhh No!!" “Well thank your lucky star for that!”

It was definitely not what I wanted to hear, why couldn’t he have said something like; Oh, yeah that slow nothing boxer with No future instead, why the hell did he have to say what he did. It was….well….it didn’t make my stay in the locker room any easier that is for sure!