Forrest Griffin, Champ!

Oh, Happy Day!

As I sit propped up in bed, watching Nadal take the first set of the Wimbledon (or, in these parts: "Wimpleton") final, I rejoice in other sporting news.


[....Last night], at the sold out Mandalay Bay Events Center, [Forrest] Griffin took all the ‘buts’ out of the equation, overturning the odds and pounding out a thrilling unanimous five round decision win over Jackson to win the 205-pound world championship and etch his name in the history books.


“This is the greatest night of my life,” said Griffin, the first winner of The Ultimate Fighter reality show and now the second TUF winner to earn a world title, following former welterweight boss Matt Serra. “I want to thank Quinton Jackson. It was close and I think we’re gonna have to do it again.”


“He whupped my ass,” said a gracious Jackson. “Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. He deserves it.”

Scores were 48-46 twice and 49-46 for Griffin who engaged in the front runner for 2008 Fight of The Year with Jackson.


And this one will be tough to top.


Griffin took the fight to the champion immediately, working behind his jab and some quick kicks to the head and legs. The challenger’s hand speed was impressive early, catching Jackson off guard. When the two would exchange at close range though, Jackson was in his element and he was able to land with more consistency, and with under three minutes left he was able to jar Griffin briefly with a left hook. The challenger recovered quickly and flurried back, but a right uppercut by Jackson with a little over a minute left dropped Griffin. Jackson pounced on his foe, but Griffin got his wits back and fought his way back up, where he continued to move forward and engage until the bell rang.


Continuing to be the aggressor, Griffin opened the second with more leg kicks, this time buckling Jackson’s left leg.


“He jacked my leg up,” said Jackson. “I’m not that good at acting. He knew he hurt me.”



As the champion staggered backward, Griffin moved in, clinching and landing knees at close range before trying to sink in a guillotine. Jackson escaped that trouble but wound up in more as the bout subsequently moved to the mat, with Griffin working for submissions and grounding and pounding Jackson steadily for the remainder of the round....

* * *

All day long I had been a regular fussbudget, worrying about poor Forrest getting beat to a pulp, a real bloody mess, by Quentin Rampage Jackson.



All of that scar tissue on his face, just waiting for an evil elbow, or the well-placed glancing blow off that beautiful brow.



Fred, however, was optimistic, reminding me that Forrest was developing a ground game, that he knew how to move out of range, that he was, in essence, "a big boy now." Harrumph. Fred has the most annoying habit of being right. Plus his Muay Thai is very sharp, and he keeps getting me in a clinch. Giggle. Imposing his will, as it were. Swoon.



Bianca Castafiore sat ogling various MMA fighters and their respective torsos. She was whistling, in the bright annoying way that a tea kettle whistles. "I wish everyone looked as good as Georges St.-Pierre in his tighty-whities," she yelled. Bianca always yells.


I whipped out a few spare rosaries and hailed Mary like a maniac. Despite my fame as a former international Vale Tudo champion, there's not much that still goes anymore. Hence, religion.


Marmy bowed her furry head, swished her bushy tail, cried "Ack! Ack!" and did her best imitation of Tank Abbott.



Sam-I-Am, just back from a stint at the Gracie Jiu-Jitsu Academy in Rio de Janeiro, fell asleep on his back, legs splayed, guard wide open.



Dobby, my little idiot, took his usual over-the-top approach, trying to slap a flying arm bar on the increasingly distracted Bianca. She was, by then, rocking back and forth, murmuring, singing, and it wasn't that damned Jewelry Aria, either. At least, not entirely. She can't help herself.


"Booooom! Bonjour, mon cher! O là là! You’re gonna get pinned.
Booooom! Voici un joli air! You’re gonna get knocked out.
You’re gonna feel it -- this is the ultimate -- moi! moi! moi!
Si belle... dans ce miroir!"

* * *

There is no substitute,

for the ultimate is what's in store.

Bear witness to the fitness

of the modern warrior!

And they go boom --

another hit is landing --

Boom another hit is landing --

There's nothing to stop

but the strike of a viper.

They're training to challenge

the ultimate fighter.

You're gonna get hit.

You're gonna get knocked out.

You're gonna feel it.

This is the ultimate...

* * *

Way to go, Forrest! Congratulations, Champ!


Much Love,
The Retired Educator
Fred
Bianca Castafiore
and The Felines