I took a clean headkick in the semi-finals against a fighter in Mexico, a taekwondo national champion. The crowd erupted with an oooh. It didn’t hurt, but it caught me off guard. Even I had to admit, that was a slick setup. He started to taunt me, but I didn’t react. I stayed composed, closed the distance, and let my boxing do the work.
By the third round, he was exhausted, unable to keep pace with the pressure. That moment reminded me that every fight is won or lost long before the bell rings. It happens in the hours and habits no one sees.
I’ve always trained like losing wasn’t an option. Back in my football and basketball days, I couldn’t stand walking away knowing I hadn’t left everything on the field. Fighting became my way to prove I was more than my circumstances.
Growing up, my dad was left handicapped after a surgery went wrong, and my mom worked multiple jobs to keep us afloat. Nothing was handed to us, but those experiences forged me into someone I can be proud of. I was tired of feeling like life was happening to me. Fighting gave me a way to flip that, to take control.
Inside the Grind
Most people see the highlight reels. They don’t see the soreness in your hands and feet, the aches that never really fade, or the mornings you drag yourself to a 6 am strength session knowing it’ll break you down before it builds you up. Training is a battle with yourself, accepting pain, fatigue, and doubt without letting them dictate how you show up.
A week before Canada, I tweaked my MCL. Two years ago, that same injury kept me out for months. This time, I refused to panic. Day by day, the pain lessened, my mobility returned, and by fight week I was back to full form. That recovery was its own victory. Proof that experience, composure, and trust in the process matter as much as raw talent. That same calm under pressure follows me into the ring.
The Payoff
Every fight starts with a wave of emotions. As I put on my gear, my chest tightens. Sometimes my eyes water. Then the switch flips, and I lock in. Walking through the arena, confidence takes over. Every step sharpens my focus. By the time we touch gloves, I’m in flow state.
Fights don’t care if you’re sore, tired, or sleep-deprived. You show up as you are and find a way to make it work. That’s what training gives you. The mindset not to crack when everything inside you wants to break.
Training camps are messy. They test you physically, mentally, and emotionally. But in those moments, the real victories happen.
Canada was a test. Abu Dhabi, home of this year’s WAKO World Championship, will be even bigger. Many professional fighters began their journeys with WAKO. Now it’s my turn to step up and seize the moment. To carve out a piece of my legacy. But for me, the real win isn’t under the lights. It’s in the battles no one sees.
That’s where champions are built.
Missed the first part of Javier’s story? Read how his journey began here.