What a fucking summer, eh?
Fedor loses, Germany pounds the shit out of England (again!), Ghana puts a boot up Uncle Sam’s ass (again x2!) and Toy Story 3 was downright FUCKING awesome. That, and after receiving a DUI, I led a ragtag group of inner city Chicago children to an amateur hockey championship despite the presence of such strong societal inhibitors within their respective lives. Or wait, maybe that was Emelio Estevez in “The Mighty Ducks”. Sorry, I often confuse my life with the lives of whichever fictitious characters are displayed on TBS at the time. Shit, back in ‘03, there was a good eight week stretch in which I thought I was Captain mother fucking Planet.
Anyway, tonight I’ll be recapping UFC 116, headlined by Brock Lesnar defending his crown against interim heavyweight champ Shane Carwin. So wait, does this mean that Brock Lesnar is defending the UFC HW championship, or is he challenging Carwin for the interim belt? Or fuck, maybe it’s Carwin defending his interim HW title while challenging Brock for the HW title and. . . you know what? Fuck it. That shit doesn’t matter, because tonight, we’re going to have ourselves a fucking UNIFIED UFC Heavyweight champion. Well, until he gets hurt and we start the process all over again. There’s more drama attached to that belt than an entire season of “Jersey Shore”, I tell you what.
But wait, that’s not all! We also have Yoshihiro Akiyama taking on Wander…uh, I mean, Chris Leben! So second from the top on the card, we have a guy that hasn’t fought in a year taking on a dude that fought just two weeks ago. Finally, it will be decided: which poorly timed method of training is most likely to result in your fighter getting his ass kicked?
Also: Chris Lytle takes on a former heroin junkie, that other dude from the first season of the Ultimate Fighter faces a tattooed Pollock elf, and in our opening bout, an Aussie wages war against the Italian version of Batman!
Oh, you best god damned believe it: it is TIME for UFC 116!
First up, we have ourselves some Spike TV prelims. The bar I’m watching tonight’s show at is absolutely FLOODED by kids in black and red Tapout apparel; it’s kind of like having the N.W.O. invade the venue, only instead of consisting of washed-up Vicadin addicts, the throngs are comprised of twenty-one year old scene twats that couldn’t tell Bas Rutten from Whoopi Goldberg. Eh, it’s going to be a long night, and that’s before the neo-Guidos have even shown up.
As always, our hosts are that dude from News Radio and a Jewish fellow that kind of looks like that guy that did the voice of the talking cat on Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Yeah, that’s right, I just dropped a Sabrina the Fucking Teenage Witch reference during an MMA recap. Sorry folks, when you get the J. Swift, you GET the motherfucking TGIF references.
Anyway, our opening bout is between Seth Petruzelli and relative newcomer Ricardo Romero (and no, that isn’t the name they gave him in developmental). Anyway, we all know Petruzelli best for knocking Kimbo Slice’s fat, unathletic ass out in 2008 and sending EliteXC into bankruptcy in the process; hell, there aren’t many people out there that can lay claim to single handedly destroying an entire corporation, so Seth P and Josh Barnett must be pretty boastful of their achievements.
Seth P. comes out rocking the Hot Topic pink ‘do: Romero, on the other hand, looks like an utter and complete non-descript Caucasian. Shit, if this ultimate fighting thing doesn’t work out for him, he could always find a job in ROH, I guess.
P comes out swinging. The two trade blows (but not like they do at Rob Halford’s house), and Romero lands a takedown. Ricardo goes for a guillotine choke, but Seth fights his way out. It gets vertical, and Romero sweeps Seth to the canvas. He’s got a nasty looking arm bar locked in, and oh shit, Seth just gave up his back. Doing so is a bad move in prison, and it’s almost as disastrous in the Octagon. Seth fights out of it, eats some elbow sandwiches, and drops Romero when shit gets all standy again. Romero goes for a single leg, and Seth responds by clubbing him with some sledgehammer shots. This is some entertaining shit right here, folks. Romero takes him down again and almost chokes him out as the first round expires.
An easy round for Romero, even though I could see how some may have the first five in favor of P based on his escapes and a couple of good blows…just like your momma is known for.
Second round begins, and Goldberg says that Seth is bringing “that funky stuff” with his offense. Yeah, that’s the technical term for it, all right. Seth immediately drops Romero with a knee, and gets the full mount. Seth goes for a kimura, but Romero escapes, and finds himself on top of Petruzelli. Romero lobs some bombs, sinks in a nasty arm bar and P verbally submits (I.E.: screams like a biggity bitch) as the ref jumps in to save him.
A damn good fight. Post-bout, Rogan tells Romero that he has a bright future ahead of him, even though he looked gassed as a motherfucker throughout most of the fight. Petruzelli says, well, something, but since some “Jersey Shore” castoff behind me is flapping his gums about the inordinate price of shrimp at the locale, the fuck if I’ll ever know what he said.
Preview for UFC 117, headlined by Anderson Silva and Chael Sonnen. If you drink Bud Light, a gaggle of personality less brunettes will throw a party for you. Buy UFC 2010. Go see “The Expendables”. OBEY. CONSUME. THIS IS YOUR GOD.
And we’re back! Rogan conducted an interview with Shane Carwin earlier in the evening. Carwin is as calm as a Hindu cow, and rocking a recently cropped skull. I actually interviewed Mr. Carwin a couple of months back: he’s not the tallest dude in the world, but as God as my witness, the guy has hands the size of bowling balls. The dude could use saddle bags as fucking hand gloves, so I reckon you can only imagine what it would feel like to get wrecked by the dude when he’s swinging them Christmas hams at full velocity.
Huh, so the new “hotness” in MMA apparel is apparently DETHRONE gear. Shit, there’s more brands in MMA than there are gangs in the fucking “Warriors”.
Next up, we have what may very well be a preview of tonight’s main event: from Brock Lesnar’s camp, it’s Chris Tuchscherer taking on Brendan Schuab from Shane Carwin’s camp. Schuab, of course, is the also-ran from the HW season of the Ultimate Fighter; meanwhile, Chris looks just like Ken Kennedy, so if the match ends in a rolling fireman’s carry off the top of the cage, remember, I said it first.
The two circle one another, Schuab drops Tush-Toucher with a solid right, and after a couple of knuckle hoagies on the ground, this fight is over. Well, yeah.
Buy UFC 2010. Hey, well you’re at it, buy UFC 2010. Have you bought UFC 2010 yet? Buy UFC 2010, god damn it!
Rogan is chatting with BROCK LESNAR. Lesnar is way more reserved than you think he’d be; no slobbering, no talk of drinking Coors or humping his wife. I for one, am concerned.
We’ve got about 20 minutes until the main show begins, so we have another prelim. I have absolutely NO CLUE who the hell Gerald Harris and Dave Branch are, but holy hell if Branch doesn’t look EXACTLY like a beefed up Norman Smiley.
The first round is quite punchy, with the two trading some wild shots (but not like two economical heroin junkies, though). Harris has Smiley (I mean, Branch) pinned against the cage. He’s working for a single leg takedown, and as time expires, he drops him with a slam. Easy round for the guy that doesn’t look like Norman Smiley.
Harris is whooping that ass in the second. Norman Branch almost connected with a punch out of the gate, but after that, it was all Harris. Gerald land some wicked knee shots and cracks Dave Smiley with a hard right as the second round expires.
Third round begins. Oh fuck, Norman has a triangle choke locked in! Harris immediately power bombs his way out of the sub attempt. Dude, Norman is on the warpath here: he has Harris backed up against the cage, and looks like he’s trying to do something from a body scissors position. And as soon as he gets that position, Harris says “got you, bitch!” and fucking shoot rock bottoms the mother fucker for a knockout. Fuck, that’s one of the nastiest slo-motion KOS I’ve seen in a long time; not only did Harris Joe-Thurman the poor asshole, he did it while draping his arm over his fucking throat. That means as soon as Norman got slammed, he damn near got decapitated on the rebound. SHI-YET.
Five minutes to go: we have one more hard-sell for the PPV, and our main card is about to begin: as long as that blonde girl with the pink shit in her hair can find the remote.
Typical gladiator opening. Rogan and Goldberg introduce themselves. This show, it has begun.
George Sotirpoulos vs. Kurt Pellegrino
Well, these two guys ought to be plum recognizable to any of you folks that caught UFC 110 and 111. Sotirpoulos was the hometown Aussie that showed up heavy favorite Joe Stevenson back in February, and Pellegrino is the dude that utilized a head spike - rear naked choke combo to put away some Brazilian dude no one’s ever heard of back in late March. The winner of this bout no doubt has their Lightweight title stock raised a dime or two: considering the omnipresent nature of injuries in the UFC, this may very well turn into a retroactive number one contender’s shot. Should be a good one here, folks.
Pellegrino out first, with the ceremonial Batman mouth piece en tow. Sotirpoulos comes out wearing a pink and black shirt with the words “Hitman” scrawled upon it. So yeah, expect George to win this one by whipping Kurt into the cage and rolling him up into a makeshift Boston Crab for the finish. And then, ten years later, he’ll return to the same employer that he said he would never work for again even though he wrote a book about how fucking evil that same company is three years prior. Or not.
The two circle to begin the bout, and I’m momentarily distracted by the Save Ferris music video playing to the wayside: sorry, but I have a weakness for overrated red heads. Superman has kryptonite, J. Swift has Tori Amos. We get some good boxing to begin, with the Aussie landing the more damaging blows. Kurt goes down, and gives his back up to Sotirpoulos. Pellegrino shoots in for a takedown, but lets him up almost as soon as he drops him (you don’t fuck with a BJJ fighter when he’s on his back. . . Ain’t that right, Fedor?) Pellegrino shoots for another takedown and this time George almost gets him in a triangle. The two stand up, and Sotirpoulos rocks Pellegrino with an up kick as time expires.
More of the same in round two. Sotirpoulos gets Pellegrino on the ground, and starts raining some elbows on him. George does a Three Stooges slip and Pellegrino shoots in as the second round comes to a conclusion. I’ve got Sotirpoulos ahead on points for both rounds.
Third round begins. Sotirpoulos gets taken down, and he feeds Pellegrino some elbows from the bottom. At one point Kurt drops Sotirpoulos with a weak-ass looking power bomb, but Sotirpoulos just stands back up anyway. Pellegrino goes in for another takedown with like thirty seconds remaining. He manages to drop Sotirpoulos with a jumping knee, but there’s not enough time left in the match-up for him to capitalize on it.
Should be an easy unanimous decision victory for Sotirpoulos here.
Sure enough, 30-27, 30-27 and 29-28 for the Aussie. Sotirpoulos looked downright fucking pro in this fight, and I’d say he’s about one or two more wins away from a lightweight title shot. Personally, I think they ought to give him the Florian \ Maynard winner in an #1 contender’s match, but we’ll have to see what the big wigs say about giving the up-and-comer a sniff of the belt anytime soon.
Poor Pellegrino. A couple of more seconds, and he could’ve feasibly finished George with some Ground and Pound. Oh well, tough break, Holmes: back to the Spike TV specials FOR YOU.
Another teaser for Silva \ Sonnen. Backstage, Carwin is working out, or something along those lines. Footage of Brock entering the building earlier is shown.
All right, now who’s ready for some senseless, meaningless ultra-violence sans any formal influence on the company! STEPHAN BONNAR, COME ON DOWN!
LIGHT HEAVYWEIGHT BOUT
Stephan Bonnar vs. Krzysztof Sozynsky
This match here is actually a rematch between the two, since their last confrontation ended in a controversial stoppage. Sozynsky, in addition to having the hardest name to spell in the UFC, is a former IFL (holy shit, remember that!) “star” that’s probably best remembered for making Steve Cantwell (a media creation from the WEC) tap like a biggity-bitch back at UFC 97. Bonnar, on the other hand, is a guy that won a “job for life” for his battle against Forrest Griffin back in ‘05, and as such, has sucked ever since (the dude’s 2 and fucking 7 in his last nine fights, for crying aloud!) Anyway, all of Bonnar’s matches are fucking technique-less slug fests, and the dude has a tendency to bleed more than Sissy Spasek in the opening scene of “Carrie”. My prediction: blood, shitty boxing, and lots of fucking Pollock jokes on my behalf. I mean, oodles.
This may come as a surprise, but this fight begins with lots and lots of sloppy punching. Yeah, I know, really? Bonnar gets a takedown; Sozynsky almost catches him with an arm bar. Back to stand up, and it’s bombs away from both men. Bonnar’s bleeding like a stuck pig. What did I tell you earlier? Sozynsky goes for a takedown, and Bonnar rocks him; conversely, Bonnar then goes for a take down and Sozynsky rocks him back. The round concludes with both men lobbing SCUD missiles at one another. It’s technically awful, without skill, grace, or accuracy: in other words, man, that first round was fucking awesome!
Second round begins, and Sozynsky immediately drops Bonnar with a hard right. Time for yet another swap meet at the face punch depot. Both guys are more blown up than the World Trade Centers at this point (too soon?) Bonnar lobs some fierce kicks (you know, the red buttons on the arcade cabinet) and Sozynsky is sucking air like a trout in the middle of the Sahara. Bonnar wrestles him to the ground, and gives him some elbows to nibble on (but not in the way Marge Simpson would prefer). Sozynsky stands up and Bonnar WRECKS him with a jumping knee. Sozynsky’s on the canvas, and Bonnar is pounding his ass like a prison snitch in the shower. After damn near thirty strikes, the ref finally jumps in to save the Pole…even though such interrupted his plans to visit the sun at night.
Post-bout, Bonnar does an awesome promo talking about all of the pints of blood he’s spilt over the years. Meanwhile, Sozynsky solemnly trudges back to the locker-room, no doubt anxious to comb over his blueprints for a screen-door submarine.
A damned enjoyable fight, with the ending everybody wanted to see. It’s not a fight of the year contender, but it was entertaining, nonetheless.
Junior Dos Santos and Cane Velasquez are in the house. So is Stone Cold and The Rock. Holy shit, now THERE’S a buddy-cop movie I wouldn’t mind shilling out $11.50 to see!
Matt Brown vs. Chris Lytle
Believe it or not, this is actually a rematch from a 2007 UFL fight. Wait, you mean these two guys played in the United Football League, a full two years before it came into existence?
Matt Brown is a former smack junkie that got his nickname “The Immortal” because he once Nikki Sixx’d himself in Xenia, Ohio, which is the same town featured in “Gummo”. Shit, there’s more white trash flowing through Brown’s DNA than a third generation NASCAR fan. Lytle, on the other hand, is probably best remembered for that one fight he had against Josh Koscheck in which he bled more blood than the last seven Jason movies combined. He’s never had a “proper” submission or “knockout” defeat, so this one should be pretty interesting: pending Brown doesn’t start hallucinating about having bugs crawling on him or anything.
Reserved boxing to begin the bout. The two clinch, and the guy behind me in the Affliction shirt is really starting to get on my nerves. I think I just saw Verne Troyer speed past my table on a Power Wheel. No, seriously.
Anyway, the ex-smack junkie drops Lytle to the ground. This is bad, because Lytle knows like nine thousand different submission holds, and in a span of about forty seconds, he stretches Brown with about half of them. Brown replies with his own halfhearted choke, but Lytle easily powers his way out of it. The round ends with the two swapping strikes, with Brown landing the majority of the critical hits. Still, I’d give the round 10-9 to “Lights Out” Lytle.
Lytle comes out of the second throwing some fat assed haymakers. . .and he’s hitting nothing but air. Brown takes him down and locks in a guillotine. Lytle muscles his way out, and gets side control. Not a good sign for Brown as Lytle wrenches his arm back. He’s got his head trapped: Brown is as good as fucking dead right now. Lytle eventually forces the verbal submission from Brown with a straight arm bar.
Excellent technique from Lytle, even though he’s got to work on that striking. Brown put up an admirable defense, but there’s more to making it in the UFC than just being able to lob jabs and overhand rights. An OK fight, but nowhere near as entertaining or enjoyable as some of the other bouts we’ve had on the card thus far.
“The Expendables”: An-nold, Sly Stallone, Dolph Lundgren, Jason Statham, Jet Li, Bruce Willis, Randy Couture, both Nogieuras, “Office Linebacker” Terry Tate and Steve Austin all in one motion picture. Too bad they forget to hire a script writer in the process.
Yoshihiro Akiyama vs. Chris Leben
Well, the plan was to have Akiyama square off against PRIDE legend Wanderlei Silva, but apparently, “The Axe Murderer” pulled a testicle muscle during training and had to pull out of the fight. And boy, was she disappointed!
Uh, yeah. Well, anyway, Chris Leben decided to STEP UP (but not in 3D) and took this fight on just two weeks notice after his last fight. Meanwhile, Akiyama hasn’t done battle in a year (which, ironically, was the same card that Lesnar last appeared, too). So, what proves more damning in the Octagon, a year’s worth of ring rust, or going into a fight with the blood still wet on your lips from your last fight? Find out, we SHALL.
Chris Leben comes out to “Love Rollercoaster” by the RHCP. QUICK: The first reader to email me the name of the 1996 movie the song was featured in wins. . .something. Rogan also refers to him as “Chris the Crippler”. . . oh, shit.
Akiyama comes out to Regina Spektor. Well, probably not, but I thought she was kind of underrated. Just saying. He does the “I’m a respectful Japanese guy” routine and this bout is underway.
Akiyama immediately shoots in for a takedown, but Leben is right back up. Leben lands some nice strikes before Akiyama kicks him in the sack. Time out so that Leben can untie his balls from his tonsils. Leben literally shakes his dick at Akiyama in what may very well be the greatest moment in the history of ultimate fighting. Akiyama misses a spinning back fist and judo tosses Leben. On the ground, Leben works on an arm bar. Akiyama breaks free, and Leben locks in another one. Now Akiyama locks Leben in an arm bar. The two stand up, and we have a pretty good exchange. Akiyama lands another judo throw as the round expires. Close, close round, but I’d give it to Akiyama.
Leben storms out of the gate and slips on an invisible banana peel to get the second off to a rollicking start. Akiyama throws some punches, and connects with a back fist that Leben no sells. Now these guys are putting Bonnar and Sozynsky to shame! Leben gets swept again, but he manages to work in a arm bar attempt from the bottom. Akiyama shakes it off, and it’s time to play Rock Em Sock Em Robots, only one of the robots is Asian. Leben landing more strikes to close the gap as the second round expires. Probably Leben’s round.
Leben doing the sports-entertainment stuff before the bell. This crowd is fucking pumped for the third. Leben throwing some kicks, and Akiyama drops him with a stiff right. Leben throws everything he’s got at him from the bottom while Akiyama tries to lock in an arm bar. Akiyama is knotted up with Leben, and Leben is actually connecting more from his back. A minute to go, an Leben has the potential to steal this one from Akiyama. Leben continues to hit Akiyama with everything and the kitchen sink. Akiyama covers up, and at 4:30, Leben locks in a triangle out of fucking nowhere and pounds Akiyama’s skull like a bongo. With less than half a minute to go, Akiyama taps as Leben ends the fight with a you-got-to-be-shitting-me flash submission.
A star-making performance by Leben, and one of the best UFC fights I’ve seen all year. Post-bout, Akiyama holds his arm in pain while Leben challenges Wanderlei Silva. A damned phenomenal fight, and one that’s well worth going out of your way to see.
A final promo is shown for the main event. Hey, Evander Holyfield is in the house, and so is Harry Reid! I smells me a main event for the New Year’s show !
UFC HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP BOUT
Brock Lesnar (Champion) vs. Shane Carwin (Interim Champion)
This… is… it: The biggest MMA fight of the calendar year, and a bout that in the wake of Fedor’s first legit loss, is to determine the new baddest mother fucker on the planet.
What more needs to be said about Brock Lesnar? At just five fights, he’s already the company’s HW champ, and quite possibly the greatest heel in ANY sport at the current. After drubbing Frank Mir to unify the belt at UFC 100, Lesnar has spent the better part of the year recuperating from a near-fatal intestinal disease: tonight is his first bout since returning from illness, and his opponent is sure to have no sympathy for his comeback.
Shane Carwin isn’t a mountain of muscle like Lesnar, nor is he a towering leviathan like the company strap holder. Instead, Carwin is simply a mechanical engineer with hands the size of bowling balls, and a person that has finished every single person that’s stepped in his way. There isn’t a single person that’s managed to get out of the first round against Carwin, and his absolute lengthiest fight to date ended in a little under four minutes.
The immovable force is about to meet the unstoppable object. The Incredible Hulk is about to throw down with The Mighty Thor. Two trucks carrying plutonium, dynamite and gasoline are about to collide into each other at maximum velocity.
Long story short: it doesn’t get an y fucking bigger than this.
Let the bodies hit the floor if you’re Shane Carwin, and Enter Sandman if you’re Brock Lesnar. The atmosphere surrounding this fight is positively indescribable, and that’s coming from a writer that has both gustatory synthesia and experienced para-death before. Everybody’s standing for this one.
Opening bell sounds, and Brock shoots in for a takedown. Carwin gets up, and jacks Brock’s jaw with a knee. Carwin throwing some HYUGE over hands at Brock. Brock shoots for another takedown. Carwin fucking unloads on Lesnar, and sends him running across the Octagon like a marsh rat. Place is going insane as Carwin pummels Brock like Ike Turner. Brock is on the ground, and bloodied as all fuck; essentially, Carwin is doing to Brock what Brock did to Mir back at UFC 100. Brock is positively getting his ass demolished, and I’m surprised the ref hasn’t jumped in by now. To his credit, Brock continues to intelligently defend himself, and the fight continues. After four minutes of pounding, Brock finally manages to escape from Carwin’s barrage. Carwin looks winded as all hell. Lesnar clinches with Carwin and lands two knee shots as the round ends.
For the first time in his career, Shane Carwin will see what the second round of an MMA fight looks like. Brock Lesnar is a bloody mess, but he seems to be breathing easier than Carwin, who’s sucking wind like a lifelong Camel smoker after a minute of jumping jacks.
Second round begins, and Lesnar shoots for a takedown, and he gets it. Brock smothers Carwin from side control, and just like that, the entire shift of this fight changes. The guys that were screaming their heads off just a minute ago are quieter than a mouse fart. Brock continues to jockey for position. Brock just got FULL MOUNT on Shane Carwin. This is un-fucking-believable. Lesnar locks in an arm triangle, and it is DEEP. Carwin isn’t going anywhere. SHANE CARWIN JUST TAPPED. Holy shit.
In the post-fight, Brock Lesnar cuts a face promo and Shane Carwin admits that, yeah, he was one tough sumbitch. Cane Velasquez frowns in the crowd while Brock celebrates in the crowd. The show ends with Lesnar celebrating with all of his old wrestling buddies, including Paul Heyman, Jim Ross and Bill Goldberg. Well, that was absolutely fucking AMAZING. The best UFC card I’ve seen in years, and probably the most satisfying round-by-round MMA card since UFC 79. That main event was EVERYTHING you could want out of a Heavyweight fight and then some, with Brock Lesnar making what may very well be the most improbable comeback since Hughes \Trigg II to retain his strap.
Simply put, this show was perfectly fucking booked from start to finish, and I can’t think of a single thing that this show didn’t provide me with. You had kooky knockouts, submissions galore, a bona-fide fight of the year contender in Akiyama - Leben and to top it all off, one of the most memorable heavyweight fights in the history of mixed martial arts (or at the very least, the most memorable one since Couture \ Sylvia back in 2007).
There’s no fucking excuse for you to not see this show. Order the replay, buy the DVD, steal it from a Russian torrent, whatever: this is a card you HAVE to see, MMA fan or not.
THE TWF "MENTAL WELLNESS TEST!"
With Christmas just around the corner, what better way to spend your few remaining dollars (left over after the seemingly infinite line-up of fucking pay-per-views ) then on the following "quality WWE merchandise!" After all, if they don't move this stuff, and fast, stockholders just might get time to figure out what "plummeting domestic buyrates" means!... and well, I don't think they need to tell you what that means! (Seriously. They're not telling you. Everything is fine! Ahem.).