- Mark Hatmaker
- Feb 1
- 3 min read
Let’s spend a little time with a man whose parents seemed to have some idea of what they were bringing forth when they christened him Oscar Matthew Battling Nelson.
Warning: This “lesson from the masters” is a no-go under today’s boxing rules, but it still holds value for self-defense. It’s insane to think that such tactics were at one time considered hunky-dory for use in the ring.
While raised in the United States, Nelson was born in Copenhagen, Denmark, in 1882, and this hometown led to another of his nicknames: “The Durable Dane.” And he was exactly that: durable. Nelson was never noted a stylist.
He was as far from pretty as one can get, but he was old-school Tough with a capital T. He would emerge from his corner with his arms crossed in front of his body and start throwing with wild abandon, seemingly always swinging for the fences.
The man could have been the poster boy for the I’ll-take-three-of-his-to-give-one-of-mine school of fighting. Notice I said fighting and not boxing tactics.
As fearsome as the man was inside the ring, no one mistook what he did for anything resembling the sweet science.
Battling Nelson — whose name was often shortened to simply Bat — would just go after his opponents no matter the consequences. He fought two 40-round fights, one of which occurred in 1902 and involved Christy Williams.
There were 49 knockdowns, the most in boxing history, with Bat toppling seven times and Williams 42 times. (No doubt that helped establish Williams as a mighty durable fellow, too.) The Durable Dane once broke his left arm in the middle of a 15-round bout but soldiered on, explaining at the end of the fight that it “made me somewhat cautious and kept me [from] winning by a knockout.”
There's no doubt that Battling Nelson was one of the most ferocious fighters to ever step into the ring, but that aforementioned lack of finesse would seem to preclude him from teaching us 21st century fighters anything about the sweet science, right?
After all, physical hardiness and sheer pluck are difficult to drill.
Before you dismiss him, consider this: Nelson was not the cleanest of fighters. In fact, his inside work was exceptionally vicious.
Jack London, noted author of such classics as The Call of the Wild and The Sea Wolf, was also an avid boxing fan (Jack did a bit of boxing himself), and he often reported on major fights for newspapers. Not necessarily a fan of the vicious Dane’s style, London dubbed him “The Abysmal Brute.”
One of Bat's abysmal — and quasi-legal–tactics was the “scissor punch.” In the era of skintight gloves, Nelson would fire a lead hook to the liver with his thumb and index finger extended in, well, scissors-fashion.
This additional bit of pinpoint penetration is more disconcerting than you would think, especially to a body that’s used to percussive blows.
We don’t know if Nelson delivered his scissor punch with his hook hand palm downward or with it facing himself. However, experimentation has revealed that, at least for me, the palm-down version allows for better liver penetration.
Now, before you go smacking the heavy bag with this bit of nastiness, allow me to say that my experimentation also has revealed that my hands are not as durable as the Durable Dane’s. That is, I find it’s mighty easy to jam my thumb and particularly my index finger when throwing the scissor punch into the mix.
The following are the steps I take to throw a version of the technique that seems to work nicely for people with anything less than Battling Nelson’s adamantine skeleton. I’ve dubbed it the “Nelson dig.”
Begin to fire a lead hook to the liver.
As your arm moves, turn your hand so it’s palm-down.
Extend your thumb, but not completely.
Give the thumb a bit of support with the second knuckle of your index finger.
Once you find the correct thumb-forefinger bolstering position, this blow can be delivered with surprising speed and power, but it doesn’t exactly need power behind it. That penetrating shot to the liver is mighty unsettling.
Again, save this one for the street or historical recreations. Don’t try it in competition.
