Bullied as a boy, doubted by his mother, this Johorean fought for his dream

THE gym is quiet when I meet Reza Afiq. The punching bags hang motionless, the ring stands empty, and medals and trophies displayed on the shelves offer the only visible clues to the intensity that usually fills this space.

At 28, Reza cuts an unassuming figure in a black T-shirt and shorts.

Good-looking, well-spoken and composed, he's hardly what one might imagine when introduced to someone known as "Machete".

"Nothing intimidating about this guy," I find myself thinking, as we exchange a firm handshake.

He speaks thoughtfully, often pausing to weigh his words, with none of the bravado one might associate with a professional fighter. Yet I sense a quiet determination about him.

Better known as Reza Machete, he wears several hats: professional Muay Thai fighter, coach, manager and owner of Phet Muay Thai in Kota Damansara, which he took over three years ago.

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Phet means diamond in Thai, an apt name for a gym built around a sport that demands resilience, discipline and an extraordinary capacity to endure.

His own journey into fighting, I discover, was hardly conventional. He didn't grow up dreaming of becoming a professional fighter, nor did he have a family encouraging him towards the ring.

In fact, for much of his early career, his parents knew little about what their son was getting himself into.

The youngest of five children, Reza grew up in a quiet Johor Baru household.

His father was an engineer, his mother a teacher, and like his siblings, he was expected to pursue a more conventional path.

But school, confides Reza, wasn't always a happy experience.

Being small and skinny in an all-boys' school made him a vulnerable target of malice.

"Sometimes I'd get bullied — for no reason," he shares, adding: "One time, five boys decided to beat me up out of the blue. Not a nice experience."

He was only introduced to the art of self-defence after secondary school, when he took up mixed martial arts (MMA).

His first coach, Filipino fighter Trestel Tan, spotted potential in him and, after just a few classes, invited him to train alongside other fighters.

LIVE TO FIGHT

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At 18, Reza made a decision that would set the course for the next decade. He travelled from Johor Baru to Kuala Lumpur for his first bout without informing his parents.

"I remember switching off my phone for two days. Then my mother called and asked where I was. I told her I was in KL because I had a fight the next day."

His mother's reaction was immediate.

"What? Who's allowing you to fight?"

Reza's response? He switched off his phone again.

He fought — and he won.

There was no triumphant homecoming or family celebration. Instead, his early fighting career unfolded almost like a parallel life, with training sessions and competitions tucked away from the family routine.

He saved up for his first pair of gloves and made the 45-minute motorcycle journey to the gym each night, despite not having a licence.

At home, whenever his parents asked where he was going, he'd simply say he was meeting friends.

But he couldn't keep his parents in the dark forever. Reza went on to compete in the Malaysian Invasion Mixed Martial Arts, then one of the country's biggest MMA tournaments.

His face appeared on billboards, while his name was announced on the radio.

Eventually, his parents turned up at one of his fights.

"I didn't even know they were there. They'd travelled all the way from Johor to watch me," he says, chuckling at the memory.

It was a moment that clearly stayed with him, although his parents' presence didn't mean they'd entirely embraced his chosen path.

His mother, in particular, has never quite reconciled herself to the idea of her son fighting.

Even after he represented Malaysia at the International Federation of Muaythai Associations (IFMA) World Championships in Bangkok, her reservations remained.

A few months ago, when he told her he was planning to compete in Jakarta, she asked: "Why do you still want to fight?"

After a decade in the sport, it's a question he still hears.

FINDING HIS CALLING

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There's a quiet familiarity in the way Reza speaks about his father.

A reserved man who rarely talked about the hardship he endured to provide for his family, he's someone Reza has always looked up to.

"I think I inherited that side of him," he says, simply.

One advice from his father has stayed with Reza over the years: "Jangan rasa kau tahu semua benda. Kalau kau nak buat sesuatu, kau belajar" (Don't assume you know everything. If you want to do something, learn).

It's advice Reza has carried into his life in Muay Thai, where much of what he knows has come from learning through experience.

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But his relationship with learning wasn't always so straightforward. At school, because of the bullying, he often found excuses to stay away.

"I'd go to snooker halls, watch movies or hang out with friends around Johor Baru," he recalls, grinning sheepishly.

But university turned out to be a different experience altogether. He chose sports science because it was the closest academic discipline to the sport he loved, but found himself enjoying his studies and performing considerably better than he had at school.

He went on to complete both his diploma and degree in sports science, eventually working as a strength and conditioning coach at the National Sports Institute before branching into coaching, management and business.

WEIGHT OF EXPECTATIONS

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Reza had nine MMA fights before making the transition to Muay Thai.

A decade into his fighting career, he has clocked more than 20 professional bouts, competing across Southeast Asia.

Yet, for all the medals and trophies on display at his gym, he's surprisingly understated about his achievements.

Shares Reza: "People might think that because of my nickname, I'm fearless. But what weighs on me most is the expectations of the people who've been with me throughout this journey."

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It's not so much the prospect of getting hurt that occupies his mind before a fight, but whether he can deliver for the coaches and teammates who have put in countless hours preparing him.

"I'm not afraid of stepping into the ring. It's more about whether I can live up to the expectations of those around me," he confides.

That sense of responsibility has come with its share of sacrifices. Having left Johor Baru at 18 to pursue fighting and his studies, Reza has spent much of his adult life away from his family, with training schedules and competitions often taking precedence over personal occasions.

He remembers one Hari Raya Aidiladha when he stayed behind in Kelantan with a teammate to prepare for a fight, while the other trainers returned home to celebrate with their families.

Life outside the ring has largely revolved around the gym, too, although Reza says he has never felt particularly deprived.

The friendships forged through training and competition have become an important part of his life.

Financially, however, there's been little room for indulgence. Much of what he earns goes towards training, equipment, recovery and overseas fight camps rather than holidays or other personal pursuits.

DIFFERENT KIND OF FIGHT

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Reza was 19 when he experienced his first overseas training camp at Sit Songpinong Gym in Phuket, Thailand.

Having saved up and sought sponsorship to make the trip, he arrived with little idea of how much the stint would shape his understanding of Muay Thai.

Recalls Reza: "There's something indescribable about training in Thailand. The grip is different, the intensity is different.

"You can replicate the same training sessions in Malaysia or anywhere else, but the experience isn't quite the same."

At the gym, fighting wasn't a hobby fitted around other commitments.

Everyone was preparing for a bout, and for many, the sport was a livelihood. Reza trained alongside fighters from different countries, but it was the realities behind their dedication that left a lasting impression.

Some had started competing as children and accumulated hundreds of bouts by adulthood. Even modest fight earnings could help support their families.

It was a contrast he'd also come to recognise in Malaysia, where many enter Muay Thai as a hobby before trying to make a career of it.

Without sufficient opportunities, decent fight fees or proper management, some eventually walk away despite years spent honing their skills.

He saw this first-hand during a two-month stint living and training in Kelantan, where fighters often had to balance day jobs with training and family responsibilities.

"They work in the morning and train in the afternoon. Some have families to feed," shares Reza.

The difference, believes Reza, isn't simply a matter of discipline or talent. It's also about whether fighters have the support and opportunities to sustain a career in the sport.

Having had to find his own way through many of the challenges, he's determined to make that journey less difficult for those coming after him.

FIGHTING fOR OTHERS

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Today, Reza manages four or five professional fighters, some of whom have already achieved more than he has.

He sees their progress not as competition, but as part of his own purpose.

Reza is particularly concerned about fighters who struggle to stand up for themselves, whether negotiating fight fees or seeking medical attention and other entitlements.

At competitions, they often have little say in decisions affecting their careers. He wants to help them navigate the business side of the sport, secure better opportunities and ensure their interests are represented.

His gym, Phet Muay Thai, came about almost unexpectedly. He took over a struggling existing establishment, invested his savings in renovating the premises and brought in a new team.

His original intention was to share what he'd learnt and make Muay Thai more accessible, particularly to beginners and women, rather than cater solely to professional fighters.

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Managing fighters came later, initially through helping close friends.

As word spread and people saw their progress, more began approaching him for coaching and career guidance. Today, the gym has become both his livelihood and an extension of his life in the sport.

Looking ahead, Reza hopes to expand Phet Muay Thai through new branches and bring Muay Thai stars and world champions from Thailand and elsewhere to Malaysia.

He's also exploring collaborations with the Tourism, Arts and Culture Ministry to attract visitors from neighbouring countries through training programmes, seminars, shows and festivals.

Malaysia, believes Reza, has the talent and public interest to build a stronger Muay Thai scene.

What's lacking, he says, is greater institutional support and a clearer pathway for fighters to progress.

"I started with nothing and nobody supporting me. I don't think anyone really believed in me when I started."

Having poured his savings into the gym, Reza is protective of what he has built.

The thought of losing it weighs on him, not just because it's his business, but because it represents years of sacrifice and a place that others have come to regard as home.

BEYOND THE RING

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Reza also hopes his parents will live long enough to see him succeed. But, he adds, success to him has little to do with fame or winning every fight.

"It's about having freedom and time. Being able to do what I want, on my own terms, without constantly worrying about work or bills.

"And, most importantly, knowing that my family is taken care of," he says emphatically.

Away from the gym, it seems Machete has a lighter side.

"Well, I think I'm quite funny," he declares, chuckling, as he describes how different he is among friends outside the Muay Thai circle.

Food is another passion. When he's not training, coaching or working, there's a good chance he'll be hunting down something to eat.

"I love char kway teow. I'm happy to travel quite far just to find a really good plate," admits Reza, before adding that he enjoys discovering new eateries and makes it a point to try a different restaurant often.

Even his pre-fight routine defies the usual fighter stereotype.

While some turn to hip-hop, rock or heavy metal to get themselves fired up, Reza has no fixed playlist.

His soundtrack can swing from hardcore metal to something slow and soothing, and occasionally, the unmistakable voice of M. Daud Kilau.

"You might see me wrapping my hands with a serious face, but you wouldn't know what I'm listening to," he says, amused. "As long as it calms me down, that's all that matters."

For someone who has come this far in a sport that demands so much of him, Reza seems pretty at ease with the idea that not everything will go according to plan.

"I have no regrets. If something doesn't work out, just learn from it and try to find another way forward," he says.

No doubt it's a mindset shaped, in part, by his father, whose advice has stayed with him over the years: never assume you know everything; there's always something more to learn.

Perhaps that's what has kept Reza moving forward, even when the odds weren't always in his favour.

He once entered the ring largely on his own, determined to prove himself.

Today, having built Phet Muay Thai and taken other fighters under his wing, he's in a position to offer them something he once lacked: guidance, support and someone willing to stand in their corner.