The Quest for Control Ashley MccLean

The Quest for Control Ashley MccLean

When you reach your 50s and realize you have more of your life behind you than ahead of you, it’s a time for reflection. What have I done with my life? What have I achieved? Who am I? Who have I become? To understand these questions, you have to reflect on the hand you were dealt and how you played your cards.

I was born during the earliest and bloodiest days of the Northern Ireland conflict. In fact, I survived my first murder bid while still in the womb. My heavily pregnant mother, a shop assistant, took early maternity leave just days before machine gun-wielding terrorists burst into the shop and shot my father’s cousin. She, with me inside, should have been standing beside him, serving customers in an ordinary shop in an everyday quaint little town. This was my homeland, my upbringing, my context. The origins of what creates someone who then chooses a lifetime of combat and fighting. 

Northern Ireland shaped all of us who grew up there. Its history, while relevant to how I evolved, is too complex to explain here. Suffice it to say, “For those who understand, no explanation is necessary. For those who don’t, none is possible.” But even now upon reflection I’d not change to have grown up anywhere else or at any other time. Yet, in that society that was so clearly out of control, what I have always craved—and worked towards—is a sense of total control.

Too many young men in the 1970s and 1980s found themselves dead or in prison, trying to defend their respective communities or impose their political ideals on those of the opposite tradition. That was the environment in which I grew up: nestled among my own people in the besieged little hamlets we carved out for ourselves. Each village and area belonged to one “tribe” or the other, but never both. Mixed areas often saw homes burned and families forcibly “put out.” This simple yet feared term referred to how those in a minority—families “who didn’t belong” – could either chose to leave to be among their own kind, flee in fear of what might happen, or be driven out by force, a customary late night petrol bomb hurled through window.

And so I grew up in an enclave among family and friends, with a singular, steely set of ideas shaping my early life and outlook. Problem was. I always craved to live life my way – by my own mindset and not be corralled by tradition or majority. And when you born into a world of conformity you realise that unless you fight you will have to be someone you don’t wish to be – to live a lie. Thus I decided young, to be in control and be who I wanted to be. And to do that I had to learn to fight in a world that was descending into civil war and escalating levels of horrific terror and violence. 

My combat journey began with a love of Boxing – my father had been taught – as all things were learnt here, by his family, His father’s cousin was the British Army and Empire champion – so amidst small local halls he had taught “his own” how to box – now my father would inspire me for that same desire. It was the era of Hagler and Herans, Duran and Leonard – stunning speed and lightening power.  What could be more normal  than a boy head off to the local ABC to learn the noble art. But this was not a normal society – everything was segregated – the local ABC was “the other side” and it was not deemed safe for me to venture there. So instead I would look to the club that existed on my side and that was a traditional Wado Ryu karate club. It was an era post Bruce Lee and pre Van Dam – but karate offered me some inspiration and gave me my first taste of discipline and a delightful introduction to sparring. Our chief instructor was Austen Spencer from Dundalk (now that was in the Rep of Ireland) – a granite cut man whose Japanese training had moulded him into someone who produced a 10pence coin before sparring – so the winner could phone the ambulance. My first cross border trip to the south saw my mother worried not about the competition fight, but rather if we’d all be kidnapped and shot as the infiltrators invading the enemy Republic of Ireland. The reality was nothing but hospitality and the friendliest kick in the mouth one can imagine. All done and received without sectarian malice or thought. This 1980’s adventure would set the course for my martial arts life. Go anywhere – sure if they don’t like you – what are they going do – hit me – sure that’s what am there for in the first place. 

Wado Ryu would give me discipline and a start, but my aspirations for control and power over my own destiny would leave me to move to sport Karate then full contact. These new sports were in their infancy here in the late 80s, but shows were springing up and a pioneer by the name of Billy Murray, who would become an ISKA world champion and inspire us all. I teamed up with a relative of mine – Keith Courtney (who was a grandson of the champion who taught my father) that was how all was done here – in families and inside our own community. Keith was a European title contender and broke more ribs than Valentino broke hearts, I learnt to fight under Keith. The objective of every round – and it was 7 days a week  – we learnt to fight by sparring, not heavy bags etc – but by 100s and I mean 100s of rounds of sparring every week. We established KCAM kickboxing in 1992 – called so as we were a kickboxing Club were you had to stand up and say I AM a fighter, remain calm in combat, relax and enjoy every battle and the one target was to remain standing at the end of every encounter – if a man doesn’t stop you, he can’t claim victory over you. It was a control thing. 

With a stable of young fighters our KCAM club started to enter competitions all over Northern Ireland, under the auspice of Keith’s great nemesis, Stephen Connors, the WKA rep for our little province. Keith and Stephen headlined two great fights in NI, middleweight clashes that compounded the tough rep of kickboxing. Both men stood toe to toe and Keith broke hands on the man who would be affectionately known as “ball bearing” because his head was like hitting steel. These now life long friendships are what forged me into someone who learns. Wado Ryu introduced me to martial arts, kickboxing introduced me to fighting and fighters taught me how to give your life over to this 7 days a week, to talk about it when you aren’t training, to watch videos of it for entertainment, to go to fight shows as a night out and to travel on holidays only so you can experience more of this art. 

Pre University I went to Holland and Germany in 1992 and it was in Amsterdam I discovered the world famous Mejiro Gym and the powerful Dutch system of kickboxing. I only got to train for 1 day in Mejiro that year, but it was enough to bring me back scores of times over the next 30 years. Dutch kickboxing taught me low kick and this was a revelation. Gone was my interest in Above the waist Full contact. This leg kick system showed me how you could control any opponent, regardless of size with a constant and well executed low strike. This is the system that I took to university – where I studied Education –  a four years honours degree that allowed me to develop the skills of teaching and passing on both skills and knowledge.  I realised early that the skill learning and teaching were key in hoping to develop as a fighter. 

It was at this point I discovered my greatest mentor and teacher, Kru Frank McConville. This man shaped every person who ever had the privilege to train under or alongside him. Frank was the most practical man you could imagine – he gave to me the blessing of Muay Thai and to him, this was the thing that was real martial arts – it gave you control. He was a gentle man, who broke my nose and ribs when he needed to and sat with his arm around my shoulder telling me stories of his wild youth as a punk in 1970/80s Belfast. Frank had travelled near and far to learn, he had a lineage from Master Toddy, who had brought Muay Thai to Europe and that was his level – a pioneer. Frank was my teacher until his early death, a man who shaped and grew as a martial artist and fighter til his death. He inspired anyone, even Conor Mcgregor’s Coach, John Kavanagh, credits Frank as one of the greatest striking coaches in the world. It was Frank who made me a Kru, not just in the blessing he gave me in a brief ceremony were he gave me his own Mongkol, bestowed on him by his own Kru. But Frank made me a kru in that he was the model of what it was to teach Muay Thai – to teach what worked and to do it with explanation of how it worked and disregard it if it didn’t work for you. 

By the Mid 1990s KCAM was running fight shows and competing all over. But my craving wasn’t fights or even promoting shows, which I was doing then, but it was learning and growing. I spent these formative years going around local clubs coached by lifelong friends like Davy Boyd, Stuart Kirk, Jason Bovil – watching and learning how they impart skills and knowledge, how they coached. I opened my little studio gym every weekend and invited every martial arts coach from every tradition to come to my home – have a coffee then go out and swap teachings amidst hard, light and technical sparring. I got to work with 100s of years of knowledge, most of whom became life long friends. Whilst I ran my kickboxing I still kept true to my Muay Thai coach (much to his disappointment – he hated kickboxing – but he tolerated it for me). I attended every seminar I could, from Sifu Nick Smart to legends like Ronnie Green, Anne Quinn and even Bill Wallace. Anything I could do to expand my understanding. 

Next it was travel. I would start to gather likeminded individuals and take teams to the UK. We went to gyms like Sandy Holt, Master A, Rick Lewis – joined in and learnt as students. Every trip I made be London, Paris, Amsterdam would see me train with local clubs. Through that my little club was mixing it with the biggest clubs in the world Mejiro, Vos and Kops in Amsterdam. I told my lads we were a Sunday league football team mixing it with AC Milans and Man Utd. I recall my 6 month students moving around sparring with Mousasi the UFC champion in Kops Gym. We went everywhere I headed to USA to Miami, training With Strikeforce fighters like Carlos Zevallos and top rank US boxers like Johnny Ramos. Standing the the 5^th street gym looking at Joe Louis old punchbag and moving around in the ring Mohammed Ali used….then I’ve made it. 

Travels over the next 20 years would take me to Australia, training with the likes of John Wayne Parr, to Malta jumping in to move around with such as Marlon Hunt. The joys of Las Vegas to train all over from sharing the mate with K1’s Ray Sefo in Xtreme Couture’s MMA gym to being at Mayweathers to lesser known but equally prestigious gyms like Boe boxing – getting to work with the wonderful Oliver McCall on his last effort to lift a Heavyweight title. At home and abroad I understood the more people you worked with, the more you learnt. I got to jump in against the gentle that is Lex Easdon in Glasgow, train with an upcoming champion Carl Frampton, be put through my paces by Olympian and WBC champ Brian Magee. There were no divides or barriers to where I learnt, from Galway’s Peter Foley to Dublin’s Keith Fanning every encounter helped me grow as a coach, martial artist and even as a fighter who still makes a point of 10 rounds of sparring every week. 

My travels also focused me on going to where you need to where any Nak Muay needs to pay pilgrimage – Thailand. There from Bangkok, through Krabi to Phuket, I ‘d get to work with Singdam, Saenchai, Rodtang and more, while being coached by Ajarn Gae, Kru Petch, Kru Jack or whoever. I ‘d also be able to complete the circle by paying annual visits for 10 years to Master Toddy who I went to in Manchester, Las Vegas and finally his current residence in Bangkok. Master Toddy taught the people who taught Frank and finally Master Toddy bestowed me with recognition and the honour of receiving his own Golden Pra jaid taken from own arm. 

My journey continues and my mindset still operates as I coach 7 days a week all year and every year. My life has been dedicated to the pursuit of this via Boxing, kickboxing and Muay thai. Some critic the mix, for me I go to Muay thai for a simple reason – the first lesson you learn is it’s meaning – Muay means fighting or boxing and most then translate it as Thai boxing. But why would you only translate one word – Thai means “Free” so Muay Thai is free fighting and that is what my philosophy is focused on. Be free and use what works and do what works to give you first control over yourself and then when you are well schooled, you will have control over others and never be controlled again.