“Brown Leaf vertigo…tonight, anything goes…”
All right, so it’s not often that I begin my articles by quoting a Glen Danzig song, but tonight is no ordinary evening. That’s because it’s no ordinary time of year, and by and large, this has been one out-of-the-ordinary year, in more ways than just uno.
Fall is, and shall always be, my favorite time of the year. In fact, it’s almost as if I don’t actually get going until the last three months of the year, just in time for things to not mean jack shit anymore.
It’s been an eventful autumn, that’s for sure. Just ask that worthless piece of shit Brooks Conrad, who’s now about as welcome in the city of Atlanta as racial tolerance and a winning hockey team. And THEN there’s my beloved Oakland Raiders, who despite being 2-4 (no thanks to our fat ass, wife beating coach’s inability to realize that Jason Campbell is a goddamn failure of a human being), are STILL just one and a half games out of the AFC West lead. Now, if only Rolando McClain does THIS to that bible thumping, shoulda-been-aborted asshole Tim Tebow on Sunday afternoon, consider myself ECSTATIC for the rest of the season.
So, are you enjoying your Brocktober? That’s right, the Zuffa marketing machine is so god-damned powerful that they were able to fucking buy the rights to the Gregorian calendar to promote UFC 121. Fuck billboards and subway posters, that’s an aggressive publicity campaign if there ever was one. Hell, it’s better than The Social Network, that’s for sure.
Well, Big Daddy Brock is fighting tonight, so that means that more of you will be reading this than normal. Because I have more eyes on me than the norm, I’ll try to keep the obscure references to existential philosophers and borderline socialist-agitprop out of the equation, but I make no promises.
So, uh yeah, it’s Halloween, which means all of the following:
* Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Expresso Lattes are back on the market. They may cost six dollars a pop, but those things will keep you wired for three days straight. It’s basically a legal form of shooting crank, and it makes your piss smell like cinnamon. College students, take note.
* Dead Rising 2, you mothers of fuckers. I played this thing for five minutes the other day, and I had to start taking methadone to counteract the results of the experience. There’s no doubt in my mind that if I had a 360 right now, this fucking game would probably consume my life. And holy shit, Gran Turismo 5 is coming out in a couple of weeks. Fuck, will anybody out there with a Playstation 3 let me come over and just crash for a weekend? I swear, I’ll stay out of the refrigerator, and I’ll keep my pants on. . . All right, I promise to stay out of the refrigerator, anyway.
* Boo Berry is back on store shelves! Honest to God, I hoard this shit every October. I’d say that a good 80% of my diet these days is horror themed General Mills products. Some mornings, I mix up a bowl of Count Chocula, the Boo and Frankenberry in one meal. It’s like eating fucking Castlevania for breakfast, and it’s awesome, even if it does turn my turds turquoise for a solid week.
What, you mean you don’t log on to a satirical professional wrestling site for liberalistic citizen journalism? Fuck you, Holmes, when you get the J. Swift, you get the political commentary, so IT, SUCK.
Holy shit, did I go off on a tangent, or what? Well, before I start yapping about getting a hummer from this one girl during a screening of Hocus Pocus (hey, did I tell you kids about me getting a hummer from this one girl during a screening of Hocus Pocus?), it’s probably for the best if we refrain from taking the path of non-sequitirs. Hey, you know Let Me In really wasn’t all that bad, and. . .
. . .fuck. Can I just say it’s time for
We are coming to you ALIVE from Anaheim, California, home of a lot (and I do mean LOT) of white people. Irony of ironies that the UFC brass has been playing the race card so much in building up the main event, huh?
As always, our hosts suck. NOW WHO WANTS SOME PRELIMS UP IN THIS BITCH!
Up first, we’ve got Tom Lawlor taking on Patrick Cote. Tom Lawlor is a guy that is probably best known for sporting that Super Mario - Ron Jeremy mustache and coming out to “Living in America” at UFC 113, which automatically makes Tom Lawlor a pretty great individual. Cote, on the other hand, is the definition of “journeyman fighter”: the dude’s been fighting since the Clinton administration in about three or four different weight classes, and despite getting a number of title shots (as recently as October 2008, if you can believe it), his Volvo is just about three stop lights short of running out of gas, if you know what I mean. And if you don’t, let me summarize as such: Patrick Cote sucks.
Big John McCarthy is the referee. It just now dawns upon me that the table in front of me consists of a cigar-smoking Indian woman, a large black dude that kind of looks like James Toney (and on top of that, he’s wearing an airbrushed tee shirt that portrays 2pac as a half man, half-lion hybrid), and an honest-to-goodness dwarf wearing a T with a borderline offensive homophobic slur on it. God damn, living in the metro Atlanta area is like living in the fucking cantina from Total Recall. It wouldn’t surprise me the least if my waitress tonight had three tits.
Lawlor starts by bullying Cote into the cage. Now he’s throwing some knees. Lawlor takes Cote down. Very little happening here, folks. Crowd starts getting restless. Lawlor switches to side control. Cote manages to get half guard, but Lawlor breaks free and drubs Cote with some short elbows (no, not undersized macaroni noodles). Lawlor throwing some punches and going for a choke. Cote escapes, and lands a couple of good shots as time expires for round one. On the replay, it’s kind of fucking obvious that Cote grabbed the cage to escape from the choke, so I’ve got it 10-8 Lawlor with the deducted point. (By the way, the judges never caught that, if you were wondering.)
Lawlor rushes for a takedown, Cote locks in a guillotine choke. Lawlor easily escapes and pushed Cote against the cage. Lawlor with another takedown, some ineffective shots (no, not watered down Jaggermesiter) and things get standy at around two minutes to go. The two clinch, and Lawlor scores another takedown. Lawlor keeps throwing as the bell sounds.
Lawlor shoots in for a takedown, and not surprisingly, he gets it.. Lawlor starts working on an arm-triangle. It’s pretty deep. Cote escapes, Lawlor throws some punches, and Lawlor attempts a kimura. Cote worms his way out, only to get sacked again by Lawlor. Cote looks terrible in this fight. Lawlor pins Cote down for what should be a 30-26 unanimous decision. The judges score it 30-27, but eh, I ain’t complaining. A pretty lackluster curtain jerker for tonight’s festivities.
Heh, his nickname is now “Filthy” Tom Lawlor, apparently.. That still makes him the second filthiest Lawler I know, though.
Joe Rogan hypes tonight’s main event by calling it the modern day equivalent of an Aztec Warrior taking on a Viking, which might just be the coolest fucking selling point for a fight I’ve heard this year.
It’s 14-14 in the Oklahoma \ Missouri game, if anybody cares. And it’s 2 - 2 in the L.A. Kings \ Colorado Avalanche game, if anybody cares. Which nobody does. Ever.
Darth Vader is a dick, if that new Star Wars game is any indication.
Play a shitty “Guitar Hero” rip-off and you’ll turn into a fat dude with one leg. Oh, and even though it’s a game that touts having “The most realistic” guitar on the market, it also says that you don’t need legit musical ability to play it. So in other words, fuck whoever made that game.
So is “Blue Mountain State” supposed to be Boise State?
. . .and we’re back from commercials! Up next, we’ve got Court McGee (who likes look an Amish gargoyle) taking on Ryan Jensen, who looks just like that dude from the Geico commercials. Court McGee is the winner of the last season of The Ultimate Fighter, and his been pretty open about his past battles with heroin abuse, which really, is kind of an oxymoron. “Heroin abuse?” So you mean to tell me there’s a proper way to use it? Man, fuck you McGruff the Crime Dog.
As stipulated by the “Great Matt Brown Act of 2009”, we here at The Rocktagon always root for the ex-heroin addict in UFC contests. Remind me to show you kids the official “Rocktagon MMA rooting chart” later on tonight to determine who to cast your support behind in your future cage fighting viewings.
Round one begins, and Jensen is ON THE WARPATH. Oh shit. Jensen secures a takedown, and rocking McGee with knees and punches. Jensen swings a high kick that Court blocks with his no doubt toughened veins of his wrists. I hear those things could deflect bullets if need be. Jensen getting the better of a swap meet at the old fist depot. Jensen goes for another kick. More trading at the pain expo. Another kick by Jensen, and Ryan closes the round with some very good looking punches. 10-9 for Jensen.
Jensen goes for a takedown, but gets stuffed. Now McGee is showing some signs of life. Jensen shoots in for another takedown on the guy that used to shoot up and gets blocked again. Now it’s getting very, very punchy. They show Josh Koscheck on TV, and an immediate “GSP” chant breaks out. God, all I want for Christmas is to see Kos knock out that Québécois motherfucker. It would totally make up for all of the negative shit that’s gone down this year, like the BP Oil spill and Glenn Beck not choking to death on his own drool in his sleep. Sigh, there’s always next year, I suppose.
Round three begins, and McGee is the aggressor. He cracks Jensen with some stiff shoots and slams his ass. McGee has the full mount, and he’s feeding Jensen some elbow scones. McGee working an arm triangle. He gets it, and Jensen taps.
Crank up the Nirvana and Mad Season, the ex-junk head etches another notch on his belt. . .which we all hope he won’t pawn for some Black Tar later in the evening. Jensen has a nasty shiner under his eye. Maybe not as bad as the ones you see sported by most female Wal-Mart employees, but yeah, it’s still pretty bad.
One more prelim before they make us pay for this shit, shall we? It’s Mike “Joker” Guymon taking on Daniel Roberts. Not much to this one. Guymon slips, Roberts slaps on a guillotine choke, transitions with a beautiful gator roll, and make him tap with a modified D’arce Choke about a minute into the bout. Well, looks like we have our submission of the night frontrunner, if nothing else.
Final hard sell for the UFC 121 live broadcast. Dana White says some stuff. Time to flip over to the paid broadcast, and by paid broadcast, I mean streaming the PPV through an illegal Russian torrent site.
Oh, it’s Missouri 17, Oklahoma 14, if you we’re wondering.
Typical gladiator opening. Hey, did you know that Cain Velasquez is attempting to become the first Mexican-American heavyweight champion in UFC history tonight? Yeah, it’s been such a muted point of the marketing campaign, huh?
Lots of Mexican flags in the house tonight. At my house, however, all we’ve got are 30 year old frat boys and their time ravaged girlfriends that show just how much wear and tear the human face can absorb over a ten year time frame. Those sorority girls may be marginally attractive now, but eight years from now. . .[cue that sound Jim Varney made after kissing the troll in Ernest Scared Stupid.]
Brendan Schuab vs. Gabriel Gonzaga
The curtain jerker for tonight’s “You got to pay for it” portion of UFC 121 is the old “new breed vs. old stallion that’s [this close] to getting put out to pasture” match-up. Brendan Schuab (no relation to Houston Texans QB Matt Schuab, by the way) was the guy that was scripted. . . I mean, uh, favored to win the Heavyweight season of The Ultimate Fighter last year. Well, he ended up losing to Roy Nelson, who is probably the best fighter that you’d think would suck on the planet. Since that loss, Schuab has been on a real tear, kicking asses like a pissed-off donkey farmer left and right. Long story short: Schuab is an up and comer, and pending he gets a couple of more notches in his belt, we could be looking at a potential World Heavyweight championship contender.
Gabriel Gonzaga, on the other hand, is a guy that’s had his proverbial day in the MMA sun. ALL of us remember that fateful April evening in London when Gonzaga reared back and pretty much ended Mirko Cro-Cop’s career as a reputable fighter with the Left High Kick Heard ‘Round The World (Pending You Lived In Parts Of That World That Had Expanded Cable, Anyway). Afterwards, Gonzaga was labeled as “The Next Big Thing” in the UFC’s heavyweight division, and he was a MONSTER favorite going into his title bout against aged then-champ Randy Couture. Needless to say, Gonzaga put in a less than stellar showing that night, and his career has been in tailspin ever since.
At this point, Gonzaga is basically the Keith Jardine of the heavyweight division. As the gatekeeper of the elitist guard, you really can’t be seen as a “top-level” guy in the division until you pummel the shit out of him, and you know what? A LOT of people have been pummeling the shit out of him lately. Fabricio Werdum, Shane Carwin, Cain Velasquez: over the last three years, Gonzaga’s had his ass torn up worse than a prison snitch, and tonight, the MMA world is expecting yet another shanking for the one-time world title contender..
Mothers, tell your children not to walk Gabriel Gonzaga’s way, because he comes out to Danzig. Schuab comes out to something kind of indistinguishable, but that mean it might just be The Animal Collective. Well, that, or the sounds of an air conditioner. Like there’s that much of a difference.
Holy shit, you have got to see the mustache on this one dude at ringside.. Apparently, Dr. Robotnik is now an employee of Zuffa.
Round one begins. These guys may not be jerks, but they sure are circling. Gonzaga going for some body kicks. They’re not doing much.. Schuab is going for some face punches. They kind of are doing stuff. Gonzaga looks like he already wants out of this fight. Double G keeps throwing some kicks, but they’re not landing. For every punch Gonzaga misses, Schuab is landing about four or five that do connect. Gonzaga gets dropped as time expires. A bad, bad round for Gonzaga.. I’d call it 10-8, myself.
Gonzaga still trying to throw those kicks. He goes for a takedown.. No. Gonzaga, not content with looking like a complete and utter choad this far into the fight, decides to slip on an invisible banana peel while throwing a punch. Needless to say, Schuab capitalizes on this error. Schuab is raining knees and punches on Gonzaga. Things get vertical. Striking exchange, which Schuab easily wins. Dude, Gonzaga is looking Cote-levels of horrible in this fight. 20-18 easy for Schuab at this point.
Round 3. Trade, and Schuab goes for a takedown. Gonzaga sprawls. Schuab landing some shots. Gonzaga is running on fumes at this juncture. Schuab keeps pressing. About a minute to go, and Gonzaga starts swinging for the fences. Schuab lands a takedown with seconds to go, and Gonzaga manages to snake his way to back control and locks in a rear naked choke just as the bell sounds. Well, I guess that means Schuab only dominated 14:59 of the fight, then.
30-27 across the board for Schuab.
Brock Lesnar shown arriving at the building earlier. What else can you say about a dude that’s 300 pounds, has a beard like Odin and wears a shirt sponsoring hickory smoked sausage and beef jerky 90 percent of the time?
Matt Hamill is shown backstage, sparring with arguably the fattest human being that has ever lived. Wow, you know the economy is in the shit tank when The Kingpin has been reduced to serving as a personal trainer..
Junior Dos Santos is in the crowd. Remember that name, it may be important later on this evening.
Light Heavyweight Bout
Tito Ortiz vs. Matt Hamill
So a Mexican and a deaf guy walk into a cage. . . No, this isn’t the set-up to a horribly offensive joke, it’s the reality before us. Tito Ortiz is one of the MMA world’s most storied fighters, and probably the most dominant Light Heavyweight champion in company history. Really, the only guy to out and out kick his ass in the Octagon was Chuck Liddell, and Tito has put in some rather respectable showings against the likes of Forrest Griffin, Rashad Evans and Lyoto Machida, who, wouldn’t you know it, are all ex-champions in the UFC.
Ortiz, however, is probably best known for being a general son-of-a-bitch in and out of the cage. He’s married to (and allegedly beats the shit out of) a former porn star, he’s been involved in a pissing contest with the company owner for half a decade and he employed a gimmick in which he dawned super offensive tee shirts after victorious performances for the better part of his career. How offensive, you might ask?
Well, yeah, that offensive.
Tito’s opponent tonight is Matt Hamill, who has the impressive trait of being the most bad-ass deaf dude on the planet. A heavy favorite going into the second season of The Ultimate Fighter, he probably would’ve won the whole kit and caboodle if he hadn’t gotten injured during filming. Even so, Hamill has went on to become a pretty popular fighter, and outside of a loss to Rich Franklin in late 2008 (and a controversial DQ win over Jon Jones in 2009), Hamill has been pretty damned impressive in his showings.
So yeah, this is a pretty obvious heel vs. face dynamic right here, and it’s kind of obvious that the majority of the crowd will be rooting for Hamill. . .who, technically, can’t actually hear the cheers of his admirers, but uh, yeah.
Tito Ortiz comes out waving the Amexican flag. You’ve never seen the Amexican flag before? Bunch of fucking noobs. Comedy early on as a policeman slaps the shit out of this one kid that flips off Tito while he walks down the aisle.
Is it just me, or does anybody else find it a cruel irony above all other cruel ironies that the dude with the best taste in music at this show is the dude that’s also legally deaf?
Tito looks like he’s in pretty damn good shape. The crowd is actually kind of excited for this one. Tito with some dirty boxing. Loud ass “Tito!” chants, followed by, and I shit you not, chants for “Matt Hamill”. That’s right, the UFC fans are attempting to cheer a deaf dude to victory. Holeee Sheeet.
Takedown from Hamill. Tito is bleeding. Things get vertical and Hamill clocks Ortiz. Tito has a pretty nasty bruise under his eye. Hamill is peppering that spot on Tito’s eye with some soft shots. Tito lobs the slowest spinning back fist you’ll ever see and misses by a couple of ZIP codes. Hamill with landing less shots than Ortiz, but his punches are clearly doing more. Hamill rocks Ortiz after the bell but. . .well, yeah.
Round Two. Ortiz lands some shots, but he’s looking pretty banged up. Hamill connects on about five shots. Ortiz shoots for a takedown, and Matt stuffs it. Hamill says “fuck you” (probably in sign language) and slams Ortiz like a bag of potatoes. Hamill dropping some elbows. Ortiz trying desperately to secure a triangle. Not happening. Hamill keeps pounding. Hamill switches to side control. Ortiz looks about seven different shades of “fucked” right now. Bell sounds with Hamill in firm control of this bout. I’ve got it 20-18 for Hamill.
Round three begins, and it’s a slug fest. Ultimately, Hamill is doing more damage, even if Ortiz is, technically, landing more blows. Ortiz shoots for another takedown. NOT TONIGHT, BRUDDER. Hamill puts the nail in the coffin at about the minute and half mark with another takedown. Ortiz can’t do shit on the ground. Bell sounds, and I’ve got it 30-27 for Hamill.
Judges call it 29-28, 29-28 and 30-27 all for Hamill, who then proceeds to cut the longest promo of the evening. That scent you just detected is the whiff of irony in its purest form.
Ryan Bader is in the house, and so is The Undertaker. Wait. . . I thought that dude was supposed to be in a vegetative state or something, isn’t he? Shit, for a dude that was in a coma for half a year, he looks pretty attentive. Maybe if we would’ve held the plug a little bit longer, Terri Schiavo would be in the front row of a Strike Force show today.
Hey, you know what? It just dawned on me that I haven’t said anything to damage Connecticut senatorial hopeful Linda McMahon’s campaign in this article yet. To make up for it, here’s a video of the Republican hopeful getting slapped by her own daughter, kicking a man with cerebral palsy in the testicles and getting Tombstone Pile Driven by a necrophiliac Libertarian. Enjoy.
Diego Sanchez vs. Paulo Thiago
I think the premise here is that, because both guys need wins like a junkie needs his next fix of smack, these two guys will be fighting to the burger in order to keep their respective asses out of Strike Force. Most of the time, that strategy backfires, but for what it’s worth, this could present a somewhat entertaining match-up between, let’s face it, two guys that really aren’t all that relevant anymore.
Diego Sanchez is the other winner from the first season of The Ultimate Fighter. After that, he had a legendary bout against legendary head case Karo Parisyan that resulted in Karo getting about eight teeth kneed out of his skull on live television. After that, however, Sanchez career has been a story of ups and downs, but yeah, mostly the part about downs. Perhaps the low point of his career was his December 2009 decimation at the hands of BJ Penn, you know, back when Penn actually gave a shit. Needless to say, Sanchez needs a victory here in the worst possible way.
Paulo Thiago is a guy that’s had a really inconsistent career. On more than one occasion, he’s been pretty damn close to getting a whiff of the Welterweight title, but he always seems to get his ass handed to him right before he earns a stake in the championship hunt.. He knocked out Josh Koscheck, got outwrestled by Jon Fitch, and most recently, lost a bout to Martin Kampmann that probably would’ve scored him a date with Jake Shields in his UFC debut. So, yeah, you know what Thiago needs to do here? That’s right, floss. Or win. On second thought, winning would probably be better.
Diego Sanchez plays up his MEXICANO image by coming out to some Mariachi musica. He also cut his hair since the BJ Penn fight, so paint me disappointed-pink.
Wild exchange to start the fight. Sanchez goes for a takedown, and Thiago feeds him a patella croissant in the clinch. Thiago throwing more knees to the breadbasket. He’s got a body lock, and Sanchez goes down at about the two minute mark. Thiago going for a choke. Sanchez escapes. Thiago goes for ANOTHER choke. Sanchez escapes AGAIN. More wild exchanging. Sanchez goes for a takedown, but doesn’t get it. Thiago fucking UNLOADS on Diego as the bell sounds. 10-9 for Thiago.
Early exchange to begin round 2, and Sanchez FINALLY gets that takedown. Sanchez working the back. Thiago (accidentally?) elbows Sanchez in the back of the head, so referee Jason Herzog (son of famed director Werner. . .will, no, not really) temporarily stops the fight to make sure Diego’s brains are still in his skull. Most of them are, so this fight, IT WILL CONTINUE. Thiago working the arm and going for the dreaded UMAPLATA. It’s like a GOGOPLATA, only way more Uma. Sanchez escapes, lands some shots and HURRANCANRANNAS Thiago, which immediately allows Sanchez to scoop up Paulo and running power slam his ass British Bulldog style. Fucking AWESOME. Now Sanchez is the won firing shots and working for a submission. Thiago manages to survive, as we head into the third and decisive round. 19-19.
Thiago goes for a takedown, and Sanchez ends up in the full mount. OOPS. Thiago working an armbar. Not happening. Sanchez has Thiago’s back.. Working for a choke, AND he’s got a full body lock. Sucks to be Paulo right about now. Thiago escapes, gets punched a couple of times, and Sanchez has his back AGAIN. Sanchez sneaks out, it gets vertical, and the HUNT, IT ‘TIS ON. Thiago goes for a shining wizard (really!) and Sanchez says “Fuck that shit” and just takes him down again. Thiago trying a desperation ankle lock. Sanchez spins out, gets his back, tries to lock in a choke, only to have THIAGO escape and almost lock in a choke of his own. 20 seconds to go. This is so going to win fight of the night. Sanchez is on top, and he ends the round by firing some fist missiles at Paulo’s dome. That ought to clinch it for him.
Unanimous decision victory for Sanchez, as expected.
Hey, have you kids been checking out the ongoing TWF LTR competition? Yeah, me neither. No offense to my, ahem, “hopeful” pupil Riggs Murtaugh, but I just don’t think he’s cut out for the world of Internet Wrestling Communicating. For one thing, the dude sent in a picture of himself wearing underwear on his head and a fucking cape FOR ALL OF THE WORLD TO SEE. Dude, just because you’re a pro wrestling fan doesn’t mean you should abandon the sense of shame entirely. Also, the guy left out several key aspects of my career (namely, a reference to my eight and half inch long penis) in my Wiki entry. THAT’S INFORMATION THAT IS INCREDIBLY RELEVANT TO MY WORK AT THIS INSTITUTE, AND REFUSING TO ACKNLOWEDGE IT IS A SIGN OF UNFORGIVABLE UNPROFESSIONALISM. Furthermore. . .
…wow, Travis Barker and Jaime Pressley are the two biggest stars you can pinpoint in the crowd tonight? Damn. When you’re using a guy from Blink-182 and a co-co-star from Joe Dirt as your go-to-celebs, you know it’s anything but a star-studded gala. Shit, didn’t you guys have Harry Reid on one of these shows a couple months back?
Huh, looks like the Giants just beat the Phillies to advance to the World Series. And Missouri is leading Oklahoma by a touchdown with about two minutes to go. Now, how do you think the BCS jabronis will find a way to screw Boise State out of the #2 spot this week?
Jake Shields vs. Martin Kampmann
Jake Shields makes his UFC debut in this match-up. Shields is probably best known for his stint in Strike Force were he laid and prayed his way to a pretty lengthy middleweight title reign. It was a foregone conclusion that Shields would make the jump to the Octagon as soon as his SF contract ran out, so those wascally wabbits in San Jose decided to throw Shields a “going-away” party in the form of a final title defense against Dan Henderson, whom was supposed to, I don’t know, be Dan Henderson and beat the fuck out of him,
Well. . .the best laid plans of mice and Scott Coker often go awry, and Shields actually wrestled Henderson to a decision victory at one of the worst cards in MMA history. And now, Shields makes his Zuffa first appearance, squaring off against Martin Kampmann.
If Jake Shields wins this bout (especially by KO or submission) he’s got a fight with GSP coming up. If GSP defeats Josh Koscheck in December (and let’s face the music, he probably will) then methinks Shields and St-Pierre might just have themselves a tussle mid-May of 2011, perchance in the UFC’s Toronto debut. Hell, even if GSP somehow manages to lose that match, a numero uno contender’s bout betwixt GSP and Shields is such a foregone conclusion that you can see its shadow from fucking here. Long story short, anything short of Shields getting knocked out or tapped by Kampmann is going to keep him from bumping gloves with The Not-Impressed One by next summer.
Kampmann, however, is a cagey some-bitch, and he could EASILY walk away a winner in this bout. Although he lacks star power (and recognizable facial features to separate him from the 9 gajillion other lanky white guys in the UFC welterweight division), Kampmann has a track history of pulling off the upsets. Just ask Carlos Condit, another highly touted welter weight wunderkind that Marty smacked around like a ten cent bitch in his UFC coming-out party. We all think we know what to expect here, but as the norm, the only thing you can expect in the UFC is. . .well, Mike Goldberg saying stupid shit. And the unexpected. But mostly, Mike Goldberg saying stupid shit.
Jake Shields comes out to “Renegades of Funk” and looks dried out as all hell. Martin Kampmann, on the other hand, is just about the most non-descript human being you’ll ever see. This dude isn’t just vanilla, he’s a goddamn unflavored Popsicle. And shouldn’t people have eyebrows, too?
Jake Shields. . .going for a takedown? GET OUT OF HERE. Yeah, it’s your typical Jake Shields fight, all right. Shields shifts from side control to full mount with about three minutes to go. Kampmann back up, and he is kneeing the fuck out of Shields from the clinch. Shields gets another takedown, but Kampmann is right back up. The two are keeping their distances. Shields shoots for another takedown, but Kampmann blocks it. Another takedown by Shields as time expires. 10-9 for Jake.
Shields goes for a takedown (yeah, I know, hard to believe, huh?) but Kampmann decides to sprawl instead. Kampmann is throwing some wicked hard knees in the clinch. Damn. Shields gets another takedown, but Kampmann pops right back up and knees Shields right in the mug. Kampmann has Shields against the cage, where he continues to knee him like a motherfucker until the round expires. 19-19 at this point.
Round three, and it’s anybody’s game. Shields is foiled on a takedown, and looking Hulk Hogan levels of gassed right now. Shields goes for a takedown, and Kampmann sprawls. Kampmann has his back, and is striking him like a step daddy on report card day. Shields is in trouble. Standing, and Shields goes for another takedown. No siree. Kampmann goes for a rear naked choke, an armbar and a guillotine all in the course of about 30 seconds. Shields on top with a body lock as time expires. I’ve got it 29-28 for Kampmann.
We’ve got ourselves a split decision. 29-28 Kampmann, 30-27 Shields (WTF?) and 29-28. . . SHIELDS.
Absolute bullshit decision. In the aftermath, it was revealed that, of all people, CECIL GODDAMN PEOPLES, the absolute worst judge in the history of MMA, was the one that scored the bout in favor of Martin.
Well, Shields was appointed a victory here, even though he looked like a half-starved dog for about ten minutes of the bout. I think it’s safe to say that GSP would pick him apart if they fought tonight, so that “guaranteed” title shot we were talking about earlier? That sound you hear is Dana White cracking open a window so he can throw it the fuck out.
I really feel bad for Kampmann. Clearly, this was a political decision on behalf of the judges: I mean, there was so much hype for this Shields asshole that I think they tweaked the scorecards a bit to ensure the desired result. Either way, Kampmann WON this fight, but I can at least understand why the call was made from a marketing standpoint. I mean, who would you rather have facing your golden boy: a vegetarian Bay Area kid on a 15 fight win streak, or a dude that looks this?
Life: she can be a bitch sometimes, and this week, she’s definitely on the rag.
Promo for some Star Wars game. Because the crossover between the two fan bases is so high.
A quiet hush falls over the pub tonight. I check the ESPN feed behind me.. Yeah, Missouri just knocked off Oklahoma. And oh yeah, the most heavily hyped heavyweight fight in MMA history? It’s up. Right fucking now.
UFC Heavyweight Championship Bout
Brock Lesnar (Champion) vs. Cain Velasquez (Challenger)
Brock Fucking Lesnar.
Anyway, it just seems like everything the UFC does with Lesnar results in dollar signs out the ass. He pounds Frank Mir in the biggest show in company history and becomes the heel of all heels by talking about drinking Coors Light and humping Johnny B. Badd’s ex-wife. The dude shits out half his intestines, no sells the grim reaper on his death bed, starts training instead of seeking medical help like most mortals, gets his ass annihilated in the first round of his comeback bout and then becomes the face of all faces when he submits Shane Carwin in the second round after eating more punches than most abused spouses swallow in a lifetime.
He’s Brock Lesnar. Put him on PPV, put him in a cage, put some unlucky bastard in the other corner, and make plans to where you’re going to store your next one hundred million dollars. The only thing you really have to worry about his point is whether or not there’s enough people in the company that have the huevos to take him on.
And tonight, you best believe his opponent has some major huevos.
Cain Velasquez. He’s being touted as the first Mexican-American challenger to the Heavyweight championship in UFC history. Apparently, that means Ricco Rodriguez was a figment of our communal imaginations, then. Anyway, Velasquez made everybody in the MMA world shit their collective drawers when he KTFO out of Antonio Rodrigo Nogiuera back in February at UFC 110. The dude has some serious knockout power, that’s for sure, but you know who else did? Shane Carwin, and we all remember what happened when that human wrecking ball tried to smash the House of Brock.
Not to make things any harder for Cain, but truth be told, he really doesn’t have the fists of Carwin: that, and unlike Carwin, Cain is going into this fight about forty pounds smaller than Lesnar. And that was a fight that the much larger and stronger Carwin still lost.
Well, we all like to think we know the script here (Spoiler: BROCK SMASH!), but if there’s one thing I’ve learned from a good eighteen years of watching the cage fighting, it’s that violence solves all matters big and small in the universe. Uh, that, and a lot of times, the things you think are going to happen don’t end up happening at all.
Ladies and gentlemen, your main event is ready for takeoff.
Yes We Cain. Velasquez comes out to mariachi music and a huge pop.. The lights dim, and “Enter Sandman” pumps through the P.A.. system. Brock Lesnar gets an absolutely deafening reaction: it’s half cheers, and half boos as the dude strolls to the cage like a fucking Aryan Barbarian. Oh, and LULZ of the night when Brock Lesnar said “Fuck Tha’ Police by pushing a cop out of the way on his march to the cage. FIGHT THAT POWER, BROCK, FIGHT THAT POWER.
You have NEVER heard a pop as loud in your life. Absolutely fucking AMAZING.
Post bout, Cain Velasquez thanks the crowd and his familia. Meanwhile, Brock Lesnar, who looks like he just came out of a botched facial surgery, says some pretty humble shit in his post-fight interview. When you have a vulva hanging off the side of your face, you pretty much have to.
Well, that was a pretty eventful little card. This obviously sets up a Cain Velasquez \ Junior Dos Santos fight in spring 2011, which has the potential to be the greatest heavyweight fight in UFC history. I guess the question there is how the UFC brass decides to market that one: uh, Brown Pride vs. Browner Pride, I guess? I mean, Brazilians are kind of tanner than Mexicans, so, uh. . .yeah, it’s probably for the best if they eschew the whole race angle for the next title fight.
As far as Brock goes. . . You sir, have just earned yourself a third date with Frank Mir. And now that you have a vagina next to your nose, he might just try to cash in his date numero tres money in the bank the next time you run into him. Just keep an eye out, will you twat-face?
Well, we have one more prelim fight on the card, but since it has Gilbert Yvel involved, I’m hedging my bets and hitting the open road early. It wasn’t the best card of the year, but you know what? Like a one night stand with a kind of chunky girl in fishnet stockings and too much eye makeup, I’m satisfied regardless.
Five Things I Learned From Tonight’s Show
Former heroin addicts have surprisingly efficient gas tanks.
Cheering on a deaf dude somehow works.
Hurrancanranas TOTALLY have practical use as transition holds in “real fights”.
The ultimate tiebreaker on the judge’s scorecard is “marketability for the next PPV”.
Aztec Warriors > Vikings.
That’s all I’ve got for this week. Crank up “Merican” by The Descendents and “The Hockey Song” by The Hanson Brothers and I’ll be seeing you in a few.
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.).