Showing posts with label Brock Lesnar. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Brock Lesnar. Show all posts

Sunday, October 24, 2010

4:12


Whatever the OPPOSITE might be of a Brock Lesnar fan, I'm it!

New UFC Heavyweight Champion Cain Velasquez beat Lesnar in the first round.  I did not see it, of course, being poor as a churchmouse and therefore not partaking of that wonder known as pay-per-view, but every written account thus far has The Cartoon a whimpering, bloody mess in a matter of minutes.

In the first round.

Oh, I said "first round" already. 

More specifically, at 4 minutes, 12 seconds of the first round.

That rings some bell.  Ding!  Oh, I remember the allusion:  Shane Carwin.  The man who never reached a second round by virtue of murdering his opponents in the first one.  Except, of course, when he fought The Cartoon.

That bout brought contention to Marlinspike Hall, in the form of denial.  Fred could not accept the Carwin's loss and dedicated himself to the endless repetition of Excuses.  Namely, that Carwin lost because the ref said, early on in the ground-and-pound, when Lesnar had his head covered and was not intelligently defending himself, "I'm gonna stop this fight." Of course, this (according to Fred) made Carwin ignore the onset of adrenal fatigue, as he continued to rain down fierce blows onto the glass-jawed Lesnar.   

My darling will also explain to you, with furrowed-brow intensity, that Carwin "had something happen to his body." Fred will not allow anyone to mention fatigue or poor cardio, oh no!  What "happened" to Carwin was an incredibly complicated physiological phenomenon... that may bear a striking similarity to burning oneself out due to imperfect preparation in training, but is really Something Else, something that I, for example, could not be expected to understand.

Yawn.

Fred cannot help himself;  He worships at The Cartoon Altar.  Lesnar has mad skills, unbelievable speed, and superb wrestling.  I mean, he was NCAA champion in 2000, runner up the year before. 

He may not know what to do when he is on his back, but hopefully he will find himself there often enough in his new MMA career that he will pick up a better guard, and some more better submissions from below. 

As for The Caricature's stand up, well, he may want to work on his chin.

The hope I had in Velasquez was couched in my faith in Jiu-Jitsu and that fashionable purple belt of his, not in his striking.  He was also a National Wrestling Champion, but at the Junior College level (albeit in a difficult conference).

I've not really been a fan, sports-wise, of anyone since the long ago days of Bjorn Borg, and even then, it was more about Bjorn's legs than about those long back court rallies.  Hmmmmm.

What?

Oh.  Right!  MMA.  Being a fan.

While I am no longer inclined to tape a poster to my bedroom walls -- though if I did, it would likely be one of Randy Couture -- I have a growing list of MMA fighters that I really admire.  A couple of these guys made the list against the ranting of my better judgment -- most notably Chris "The Crippler" Leben whose recent performances won me over.  How many guys take a fight on short notice, then step up again two weeks later?  I thought he and Akiyama might kill each other (there were shades of the great TUF Season 1 finale between Forrest Griffin and Stephan Bonnar; SHADES, I said!).  Somehow all the animus I had accumulated against Leben, also a graduate of TUF 1, where he spent most of his time drunk, troubled, and obnoxious -- all the ill-feelings about how he represented the sport... drained away.

He had one of the most active and devastating guards in that match up that I have ever seen.  I mean, he worked it, even doing this funky, syncopated, double-fisted hammerfist thingy.

It was a great showing, and I wish Leben, now a mature and dedicated fighter, the best.  The Manor Denizens will be watching.

While I admired Cain Velasquez, and backed him inasmuch as I will back anyone fighting The Cartoon, he wasn't even a remote member of the Fan List.  No particular reason, though I suspect his laid-back demeanor just kept him out of the spotlight that is apparently necessary to success in this arena. 

These guys need to be very careful when they open their mouths, especially when they address anything beyond the purview of the octagon.  You know, like when Brock "The Cartoon" Lesnar opines that the Canadian health care system, which saved his life, is the product of a third world, socialist regime.  (I won't touch the reference to that superior form of political and social interaction, not now.  Suffice it to say that I don't consider "socialist" an adjectival slur.)

I like Frank Mir -- that, too, is something difficult to do in these environs, as The Manor Men all consider him to be a SissyBoy, by virtue of the fact that "he talks too much."  I think it has more to do with that one persistent little curl that dips down onto the gorgeous plane of his forehead -- but I haven't given it much thought.

Anyway, when Mir fought Lesnar a second time, the first having ended in that glorious submission, Lesnar showed his true, ugly colors afterward:

Frank Mir had a horsehoe up his ass. I told him that a year ago. I pulled that son of a bitch out, and I beat him over the head with it. I’m gonna go home tonight and i’m gonna drink a Coors Light … that’s a Coors light because Bud Light won’t pay me nothing. I’m gonna sit down with my friends and family, and hell I might even get up on top of my wife tonight!


True, with Dana White's encouragement, he then issued a great little apology, complete with a Bud Light in his paw.  But I think what he uttered in excitement is probably a more accurate reflection of his character.

He was, by all accounts, humble in defeat last night.  But you know what? Being a good sport ought to be the assumptive behavior, instead of something to remark upon with visible nods of approbation -- and relief.

Welcome to the Fan List, Cain Velasquez!  Congratulations on your title and thanks for representing the sport so well.

**********     **********     **********     **********     **********     **********

*My favorite quote thus far comes from Court McGee, who fought (and won) in the prelims against Ryan Jensen, whom he certainly respected, saying: 

He kept hitting me and hitting me and I was able to get his timing.
As for the best headline? 
Tito Ortiz's UFC Career in Jeopardy Following UFC 121 Loss Against Matt Hamill

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Psyche and Soma, Those Crazy Kids!

Good news!

Because I have a really rotten case of first time diverticulitis, and am flirting with a perforated colon, I think I will turn off the boob tube, stop playing bridge, set aside the book... and do some writing. If nothing gets posted, well, at least the pile of drafts will be that much taller. But if nothing EVER gets posted, well, I guess that'll mean I either imploded, or exploded, or both.

This is crazy... Apparently, I had undiagnosed diverticulosis. But I eat beaucoup fiber! Seriously, with my history of small bowel obstructions that have required surgery [4 SBOs, 3 surgeries], you can bet your sweet bippy that I aim for 60 grams of fiber a day, roughly twice the RDA. That's what the last surgeon to unknot my guts recommended, back in 1996, and until last September, I had no problems. For some reason, I developed a partial obstruction that took over a week to resolve. The x-ray studies done then didn't show any diverticulosis... or if they did, it wasn't serious enough to mention.

I finally called Super Doc yesterday afternoon, despite my plans not to bother him until Monday. He started me on antibiotics and made depressing grumbling noises about how steroids thin the intestinal wall, about how much more I am at risk by virtue of being... me.

This is rather painful, this abscessing colon business. It's not the kind of pain one cannot tolerate, though, and I certainly don't need any pain medication to deal with it, as my normal regimen just about covers it... I guess it is more... scary? Is that the word, the attribute? Just knowing that the next sharp pain might be my intestinal wall, caving in?

Psyche, meet Soma.

(Those crazy kids!)

Oh, yes. On this day mumblemumble years ago, my mother demanded some pitocin so that I might be born on her birthday. I was so looking forward to cake but am settling for celebratory broth.

Oh... one more thing. I wasn't gonna say anything, but the topic keeps coming up since Marlinspike Hall, deep, deep in the Tête de Hergé (très décédé, d' ailleurs), is a secret MMA training camp for the Miniature SaraThunderToga ThickNecks of the Third Degree. As a fellow diverticulitis sufferer, I want to distance myself from recent remarks made by Professional Ingrate and Official StupidPerson, Brock Lesnar. Way to alienate half a continent, dood.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Couture v. Lesnar

La Belle Bianca Castafiore? Elle adore Randy Couture. Et elle a bien peur de le voir complètement d.é.t.r.u.i.t. quand il va contre cet homme incroyablement énorme et fort, Brock Lesnar, pendant UFC 91.


Truly, it has been awhile since I have activated the MMA Prayer Tree, but this may just be the occasion for it. As much as Couture is clearly the superior fighter, how can he offset Lesnar's size, weight, and excellent speed.

When Lesnar fought Frank Mir, how long do you think Mir could have held out, if he had not managed that incredible kneebar at 1:30 in the first round?

Hmmm. But that's the thing, right? He *did* manage to submit him -- and what a thing of beauty that was! He was secure and calm enough in his jui-jitsu and MMA won out over WrestleMania Hype.

Since then, though, I think Lesnar has reconsidered things and has trained very seriously, not wanting to be seen as playing at these disciplines. When he beat Heath Herring in UFC 87, it was evident that he was putting his new skills on display. One had the sense that he could have ended it rather easily at any point but that he wanted the three-rounds as a showcase opportunity, and he wanted it to go to a decision.


Randy Couture is surely among the finest to ever fight, and being in an unenviable physical matchup is nothing new for him (think Tim Silvia). We'll be rooting for him here at Marlinspike Hall, in the Tête de Hergé. He will be bringing his experience and talent to the mix. I hope that will be enough. La Belle Bianca Castafiore goes about muttering to herself; I don't think she can take much more in the way of stress.
go obama! go obama! go obama! go obama! go obama! go obama! go obama! go obama! go obama! go obama! go obama! go obama!