Tri-Continent Champion: An Inside Look At One Strawweight’s Quest For Global Gold
Unless you’re one of the few western fight fans intentionally keeping an eye on the men’s Strawweight ranks or particularly serious about One Championship fandom, Namiki Kawahara is not a well-known name on this side of the globe. Perhaps that changes in the near future though, because Kawahara is intent on gaining worldwide status, and his planned path involves picking up as many 115-pound titles as possible.
Kawahara — whose first and last name translate to “Wave” and “River” respectively — is carving a unique and unexpectedly global path to the top of the Strawweight ranks. As a former DEEP Strawweight champion, the Osaka native has captured gold previously in Japan and been ranked as high as No. 2 by global rankings database FightMatrix. He’s competed in the most prominent Asian promotions like One Championship (at Flyweight) and RIZIN. If he wants more fights in those promotions, he assures me they’re an email away. Rather than stay in those established waters, however, Kawahara has opted to chase gold around the world in the hopes of promoting his division and, of course, developing a bit of notoriety to boot.
It’s simple fact that Men’s Strawweight is not a marquee division in the west. Seeing as Flyweight is largely ignored by the general fan populace, the even lesser known Strawweights face major obstacles to overcome. All the same, Kawahara made history earlier this year as the first professional Strawweight champion for a US-based fight promotion in Urijah Faber’s A-1 Combat Promotion.
Line up the strawweights, we have a new champion!!#A1Combat19 pic.twitter.com/NDBnWgtNlX
— UFC FIGHT PASS (@UFCFightPass) March 30, 2024
For the last week, I’ve been traveling alongside Kawahara and served as his cornerman for his Cage Warriors Academy (CWA) title shot opposite champion Charlie Falco, who was advertised in the lead up as “Europe’s No. 1 Strawweight.” In a return to the Gonzo style writing I’ve done about my own MMA competition, this article intends to explain Kawahara and Team Alpha Male Japan, explore the unseen logistics of a Strawweight professional, and recap his tremendous CWA title fight.
Let’s dig into it.
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The Lead Up
I’ve trained with Namiki for something like seven years now. He’s a part of the Team Alpha Male (TAM) Japan crew, a small group of Japanese fighters who visit Sacramento to train for part of the year that includes the likes of UFC veterans Teruto Ishihara and Michinori Tanaka. In “The Land of the Rising Sun,” the TAM Japan boys are spread out at various gyms but often visit Sactown together. Since the start of my own time at TAM a decade ago, I’ve always enjoyed training with the different members of TAM Japan. The language barrier is rarely a problem, as they’re all full of laughter and offer different technical looks than most fighters in the US.
Namiki and I started working together more seriously perhaps five years ago. He has a similar build to myself just a division lower, so our fighting styles mesh well. Already a slick striker thanks to his Karate background, I primarily have worked with Kawahara on his submission offense and counter wrestling, but he’s also been one of my most consistent sparring partners in return.
The guy is quick. Annoyingly elusive and funky from close quarters, my size advantage and jiu-jitsu experience have bailed me out of more than one fatigued kickboxing match against Namiki. Over the years in the gym, we’ve become great friends as well. I even took Namiki up a 300-foot rock wall in Northern California a couple years ago.
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Kawahara returned to Sacramento in early September, a month removed from his CWA title fight. Glad I was able to contribute to his camp for the first time in two years, I upped my practice attendance and worked with him one-on-one as well. We came up with a bit of a strategy for his opponent, with whom I had very, very briefly trained with some years ago during his own visit to TAM. When I asked if he needed a corner in Colchester, the plan was immediately set.
We left on a redeye for London on the Tuesday night of his fight week, exactly six days after I had returned from my own (unrelated) trip to Japan. At the airport, I began to realize what I have signed up for. Namiki’s suitcase is gigantic. The man is always dressed in many layers — STYLE is going to be a motif in this article — and he is unbothered by weight restrictions. When his checked bag is 10 pounds over the limit, we relocated three large coconut water bottles to my own luggage.
“You know they have coconut water in England, yeah?” I ask. Namiki is unimpressed. His coconut water is special. When his suitcase is still too heavy, I dig literal weights out of his bag and inquire what the f—k is happening.
Namiki laughs and grins mischievously. He explains it’s part of his walkout. He will wear the wrist weights on his walkout to the cage, show off his fast hands, then stun the crowd by revealing his weights and dropping them to the floor, Rock Lee-style.
I pack the weights into my bag.
Soon afterward, we depart. Getting a taste of the timezone that will harass me for the rest of the trip — writing Midnight Mania each day involved setting a 3:30 AM alarm then trying to sleep again afterward at 5 A.M. — we arrive in Colchester around 10 P.M. on Wednesday evening. CWA covered our stay from Thursday to Sunday morning, meaning Namiki was opting to drop about £100 to arrive a bit earlier and ensure his weight cut went smoothly.
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We depart
This brings us to a core bit of it: Namiki’s purse for this bout was significantly smaller than his recent A-1 and DEEP bouts, a few hundred bucks in total. This is not intended as a knock on CWA. They’re a smaller promotion and ponied up for two international roundtrip flights, hotel room, taxis etc to book their local guy (Falco) an accomplished opponent and step up for his title defense. They were great to work with and ran a very well organized show. Still, reality stands that this was a “free fight” as Namiki sadly put it, only really made financially possible because Namiki has some solid sponsors in Japan.
This one was for love of the game.
The next day, we ride the rail into Colchester proper, because Namiki has tracked down a shop to braid his hair for the fight. We walk into AB Afro-Carribean Style Beauty Salon, and the hilarious owner immediately tells Namiki off, “I told you I would call you back. Why are you here?” while in the midst of braiding a client’s hair.
“I am fighter, I need to make sure I have hair for fight,” Namiki explains. He banters with her about fighting, braids, and local cuisine then negotiates her down from the quoted £120 down to £80 because he “will be champion soon” and show off her braid. He explains to me that this hustling/negotiating is essential “Osaka style” and later regales me with three different tales of successfully talking himself out of California driving tickets.
Reminder: Namiki doesn’t speak that much English. Part of my role here is translator, even if that engine is powered by friendship rather than even the slightest understanding of the Japanese language. Namiki style seems to transcend language, however. Numerous times throughout the trip, Namiki will verbally secure favors and navigate the unknown in a foreign land. Having just recently been helpless at communicating in Japan, I couldn’t help but be impressed by his road savvy.
Hair appointment secured, we walk around Colchester, checking out the local shopping area and nearby castle. Namiki responds positively to the women of the United Kingdom, because “looks Harry Potter” and “Hermione style.” He concludes that, “I think I want Colchester wife.”
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The water cut begins that night, and Namiki is roughly 6.5 pounds over the 115-pound championship limit. We go down to the sauna and in just 30 minutes, he’s down to 117. The last time I cut 4.5 pounds, it took probably three hours. “Sashimi” — affectionately nicknamed by a beloved-but-foul-mouthed coach — is simply built lean. His body wants to weigh nothing.
15 more sauna minutes on Friday morning, and Namiki has made the championship limit without (figuratively) breaking a sweat. The special coconut water is drained as we rest for a bit, then we Uber back to downtown Colchester for his braids and eat dinner at Nando’s.
It’s almost time to fight.
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THE FIGHT
Outside of a full English breakfast in the morning and brief stop at the afternoon rules meeting, we spend the entire Saturday half asleep. As main event, Namiki won’t be fighting until 10 P.M., so we don’t have to arrive until a couple hours before. In an unexpectedly important decision, we opt to nap the rest of the day away.
Backstage, we chat with a local amateur fighter who’s trained with us previously at Alpha Male. Namiki then compliments a CWA promoter on the design of their shirt, and we are gifted three CWA shirts — Osaka style!
To warm up, Namiki skips rope in a track suit. He changes outfits — a considerable task given wrapped hands and his variety of layers — then I hold pads for him before shifting to light sparring and a bit of clinch work. Namiki debates endlessly with himself whether he wants to wear small or medium gloves, settling on medium. Before too long, it’s time to walk.
Namiki receives devastating news just prior to actual walk to the cage. He’s dressed elaborately, adorned with a head band, kimono jacket, religious beads, his wrist weights, and the flag of Japan. Unceremoniously, CWA tells him to strip backstage away from the camera and crowd, part of their routine in keeping the show moving. He’s allowed the flag and nothing else. The wrist weights we hauled across the Atlantic are left behind in a pile.
By the time both athletes are in the cage, the crowd is going wild in support of their local champion. In fewer words, I tell Namiki that despite the atmosphere, the cage belongs to him. He grins evilly.
Within 20 seconds of the bout starting, both corners are screaming at their athletes to calm down a touch. The lads were winging haymakers at one another immediately with nary a concern for pacing or consequence.
When the duo settled down a bit, Namiki employed the game plan well. Fighting from both stances, he negated Falco’s pressure with some stiff counter punches and jabs. He switched stances and threw in combination. A Southpaw straight crashed into the center of Falco’s face. Both men landed hard low kicks, but Namiki’s left body kick was the most impactful strike of the round. Each time it landed with an audible crack, I could see Falco’s body curl up in response, which often prompted a big combination follow up.
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It was a scrappy round, but Namiki landed the heaviest blows. I advised Namiki to feint more and work the jab up and down the body to alleviate the pressure and control distance. I also reminded him to flash the jab then dig a left hook to the body, something we worked in his preparation.
Falco continued to press into the second and found a bit more success in scoring his takedowns along the fence. To my eyes, Namiki still landed the better strikes, including a very loud elbow to the side of the head that momentarily quieted the cacophony of “CHARLIE” cries from the crowd. A couple times, Namiki reversed position then opted to let Falco stand, ignoring my own hoarse cries to lay on top of him and rack up easy control time. Still, he spent some time on bottom, and we were in enemy territory. I reminded him as much between rounds, imploring more jabs and side-to-side movement when nearing the fence.
Ten minutes of high action and high output had both men feeling the fight by the third. Namiki’s feet were a bit slower, and his mouth was dripping blood. On the other side, Falco’s lead leg was purpling and his cheekbone swelling badly in addition to the fatigue. The pace didn’t slow, however, as Falco continued to press but struggled to ground Namiki.
The deciding moment came with about a minute remaining, and you can watch it below.
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The knockdown sequence sealed the unanimous decision win, earning Namiki Kawahara his third professional title on his third continent. After some photos in the cage, I went about collecting all of Namiki’s clothing and met him in the medical room. Backstage, he slides out of his glove to reveal a bulbous and obviously broken left hand.
“Round one,” he tells me. “Southpaw straight. That’s why I no jab, only line up right hand.” I can tell he’s upset, so I try to play the “It might not be broken” card then talk s—t to him for failing to inform me between rounds. I also tell him for all his glove waffling, he settled on the wrong glove size, which gets a laugh despite the pain. With the event over, the ambulance on standby has to drive back to the local hospital anyway, so we ride in the back. Namiki, who has broken his other hand previously in similar fashion, looks at me sadly from the gurney and says again, “Free fight bro.”
We walk into the emergency room around 11 P.M. and I mentally prepare for what’s to come: it’s going to be a long one. Namiki, unfortunately, does not understand. He is accustomed to Japanese efficiency, not zombie moans throughout the halls and ungodly wait times. The initial x-ray was quick enough, but then we had to wait for a doctor to review results. As hours tick by and I walk over to a vending machine for the fourth time, Namiki is growing upset at being shuffled around various waiting rooms with no end or progress in sight.
He debates leaving but is convinced to stay. At about 5 A.M., we finally see the doctor, who confirms two serious fractures. An orthopedic specialist is brought in, and he explains that a reset can be attempted. The doctors give Namiki a strange pipe to inhale some kind of knockout gas, then both the doctor and nurse are yarding on opposite sides of his arm, pulling the bones back into place as he struggles to stay conscious.
It all felt like medieval quackery to me, but what do I know.
A temporary cast is applied, and finally, we depart the NHS. We arrive back at our hotel at exactly 6:30, precisely when the breakfast buffet begins. We opt for full English breakfast plates in addition to pancakes and two full packets of honey and some extra hash browns rather than a shower or checkout preparation. I sneak a couple hours of sleep before our time is up, whereas Namiki chooses to stay awake and talk with all his friends and family online.
In our room, Namiki learns he won “Fight of the Night” honors. I ask him if that involves any additional financial compensation, and again the sly grin returns as he promises, “I’m gonna ask!” The money talks continue as Namiki learns that it will cost him £65 if he wants access to the photo gallery from his fight. This practice of charging fighters for pictures of their own blood is not unique to CWA, but we find it distasteful nevertheless.
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Namiki’s full Instagram post above includes a video of his hand being reset ... if you’re into that kind of thing.
AFTERMATH
Prior to the fight, I booked us a hotel room in London for two nights afterward. We both wanted to see the city, and I was more than willing to buy myself a potential window to visit the famed gritstone climbing of the Peaks district a couple hours to the north. Naturally, the discount hotel I picked didn’t have an elevator and Namiki’s hand was still jacked, so I end up stumbling through three floors worth of tight corridors with his monster suitcase, wrist weights, and the rest of our bags.
On the flight home, Namiki style throws us a final curveball. He is wearing, per usual, an undershirt, long sleeve, jacket, pants, and jeans. Security at the Gatwick Airport is positively baffled at his double pants situation, and no amount of my imploring “Japan style!” helps alleviate their concern. Namiki is taken into a side room, forced out of his extra jeans, and searched thoroughly. Upon our reunion, he exclaims, “That guy loves me! He loves me too much. He loves his job.”
Terrorist threat averted, good job UK security.
On the journey home, Namiki and I talked about what’s next. His broken hand delays the previous plan of staying in Sacramento and defending his A-1 belt in January. His ultimate dream is for a UFC Strawweight class, but I haven’t a clue how to make that happen. I argue that there are still continents remaining in the global quest for gold, and we discuss our possible connections in South Africa’s EFC and Brazil’s Jungle Fight promotions. We look up the current FightMatrix Strawweight rankings and set a target on their No. 1 ranked fighter, who currently competes exclusively for a promotion in Indonesia called One Pride MMA.
Somewhere, there’s another title waiting to be won.
Namiki Kawahara would like to thank his sponsors, Back Channel Clothing, Hottarakashi Camping Field, and Lyvecap Probiotics for enabling him to focus on his training and chase Strawweight glory.
