UFC 117: Independence Day

The first in (hopefully) a series of posts leading up to UFC 117, to which I like to affectionately refer as Independence Day in my completely sober Chael Sonnen-induced stupor.

I am certain that there are plenty of male MMA fans that have a story about some chick that was awesome and would watch the fights with them.  Frequently, though, these tales seem to be the anecdotal equivalent of a European wealthy industrialist dying of cancer with no heirs, or of the 2003 Chicago Cubs — simply too good to be true. (Note:  Do NOT give your pertinent information either to Dr. Alva Quinientus or Steve Bartman through an e-mail)

It's cool if your girl (or you, if you're a girl) likes MMA. Just make sure that beneath that wonderful trait, she isn't also completely insane.

I will go on record as saying this:  If you are a female and you enjoy the sport of mixed martial arts as much as I do, I want no part of you.  Even if I were still single.  A fine line exists between a female who likes sports and a female who is obsessed with sports, and that is the line I am trying to express.  As a guy obsessed with sports, I have dated both types, and the female who simply likes sports wins out every time.

The visceral, blatantly violent (yes, football and hockey have plenty of violence, but as a means to an end) nature of MMA makes it an even tougher task to find the preferred amount of feminine fandom.  Somewhere between “GSP is so hot, why are they hugging” and “I love to watch the lifeless bodies fall to the canvas” I would think.

There is an entire website devoted to spinning the sport to be more palatable to women.  Having spent the past 16 months with a “likes sports” girl, I think this is an extremely important endeavor.  Throwing her immediately into a discussion about UFC vs. PRIDE or whether or not Eddie Bravo makes up names for jiu-jitsu techniques that already exist would have been terrible.  Fortunately for me, her first real exposure to the sport came from showing up late to UFC 98, which concluded with an awe-inspiring, surface-level pleasing performance by Lyoto Machida.

Yes, in a healthy, heterosexual, mutually-MMA-loving relationship — sorry for specifics, but I will stick to what I know from experience on this one rather than speculate — there certainly can be a staggering difference in perspective.  After the jump, I will illustrate this point with my and my lady friend’s analysis of Saturday’s big fight card.

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(These discussions came about when she asked me who else was fighting other than the main event and Matt Hughes.  I directed her to the event card website and voila, dichotomy!)

Anderson Silva vs. Chael Sonnen (Middleweight Championship)

Me:  “Obviously all title fights are important.  This one stands out, though, because Chael Sonnen has done more outside of in-cage performances to make this worthy of a title fight/main event than anyone I can ever remember.”

Her:  “Anderson Silva is my favorite fighter, and it is going to be fun to watch him make a complete fool out of this guy.”

Jon Fitch vs. Thiago Alves

Me:  “Very huge, as both of these guys have put together impressive winning streaks outside of getting completely annihilated by Georges St Pierre in title fights.”

Her:  “Ooooh, Thiago.  That’s a good fight.”  (Since she skipped UFC 100, I know she has never seen Alves fight.  But even though she might get her Thiagos mixed up, she knows enough to know that anybody in the UFC named Thiago is worth watching.)

Clay Guida vs. Rafael Dos Anjos

Me:  “Neither guy tends to have a boring fight.  Wrestling vs. jiu-jitsu, anyone?”

Her:  “Ooooh, it’s the caveman!  He’s fun even when he loses.”

Matt Hughes vs. Ricardo Almeida

Me:  “Hughes was, is, and always will be one of my favorites.  Nice story to the fight, with Almeida having ties to recent Hughes victims Renzo Gracie and Matt Serra.

Her:  “Hey, babe; you like Matt Hughes!”

Roy Nelson vs. Junior Dos Santos

Me:  “Especially if Dos Santos wins, this could very well determine who is the next challenger for the heavyweight title after Brock Lesnar and Brown Pride do their thing.”

Her:  “Haha, fat guy.”

Dustin Hazelett vs. Rick Story

Me:  no comment

Her: “Haha, anorexic guy.”  (not actually unsympathetic to people with disorders)

Phil Davis vs. Rodney Wallace

Me: “Sweet, Mr. Wonderful!”

Her: “Sweet, Mr. Wonderful!”

There were others, I presume, but the point is that women can enjoy MMA without (1) them being absolutely crazy or (2) objectifying them or the sport.  That, and I am in for a world of hurt when her favorite fighter absolutely pastes the hero I have adopted.

Thanks to my lady friend Nicole for unwittingly being research for this and possibly other posts.  Probably one about how she regularly can outperform me on picking winners using unique criteria.

A little background if you like:  this past weekend I was working at a local MMA show (Cage Warrior Combat “Fight Night at Limelight” to be specific) here in Nashville.  Advertised to make an appearance was Wanderlei Silva.  From my past experiences I chose to take that advertisement in a “believe it when I see it” fashion.  To their credit, the Axe Murderer definitely showed up, and even delivered a speech in the cage that I wish I had videotaped, due to the incredibly awesome combination of a lacking sound system and Silva’s unique Portugenglish language.

Here’s a snapshot of Wandy with one of the ring girls.

Amidst the economic recession, the thriving Wanderlei Industries eyeballs an opportunity to grab more of the available market.

Comments or email are fine.  Our beloved monsters… enjoy yourselves.

Waking up thinking that somehow Roddy Piper had a hand in Fedor’s loss, or that maybe Werdum had a magic pair of sunglasses — it don’t make the world work.

There were more, but I think this is a large enough sample to display the greatness that is Strikeforce’s marketing department.  I will never doubt again, especially since they correctly pegged me as a ROCKY fan who likes to reminisce about the time that Ted DiBiase’s son choked me out.

Save me, Babalu.  For on this day you, Renato Sobral, my favorite fighter, have the opportunity to take this collection of 24 hours in a completely different direction from that of my favorite overall MMA personality du jour, Chael Sonnen.

Sonnen, citing legal issues, has removed himself from contention in the Oregon State House of Representatives election.  Granted, from what I have been told, his chances of victory as someone in his right mind a Republican in that district were about as thin as Kate Moss after a couple trips to the bathroom.  Still, this is a huge blow to me, with Sonnen being the only MMA fighter from which I have received an e-mail (any correspondences from my good friend John Lambert, amateur fighter, notwithstanding).

On the other hand, Sobral will be facing Robbie Lawler tonight on a card run by some half-pint promotion out of California.  The fight, taking place at a catchweight of 195 pounds (affectionately known as ‘Franklinweight’), will determine the #1 contender for either their middleweight (if Lawler wins) or light heavyweight (if Babalu wins) title.  Side note: after August 7, they are changing the name of their middleweight title to the 185-Pound, Non-Chael Sonnen Division Champion.

So do it, Babalu.  Please.  Go out there and annihilate this guy.  Never mind that I like Robbie Lawler too.  I know that since Strikeforce does not allow elbows on the ground that you cannot replicate the aggravated assault (not that that never happens in the Strikeforce cage after the fight) that you laid on David Heath in a perversely entertaining manner, but do something similar.  Put him out, put him to sleep, salvage this day.

Save me, Babalu.

Found on the sidebar of my Facebook page.

Brock Lesnar wins by default yet again.

In one of the free prelim fights on Spike TV before UFC 114 (or, as my girlfriend christened it, Shaq vs. Cuba Gooding Jr), my favorite spastic, over-excited cage announcer (is that what we call it?) Bruce Buffer made what some people might think to be a geographical mistake whilst introducing Efrain Escudero.

Buffer stated that Escudero was fighting out of “Tempe, New Mexico.”  But before you jump all over him, please understand the circumstances.  What you see above is Buffer’s map of New Mexico that he had as a child.  In a recent interview with The Mirror (and by that I mean his bathroom mirror, not the British publication), Buffer had this to say about that map:

“My mother gave me an atlas she bought at the dollar store when I was probably six or seven years old.  Honestly, it is the fondest memory of my childhood, as it helps me learned two very important things about ring announcing.  First, Tempe is clearly in New Mexico.  There was even a line drawn through Tempe on the page for Arizona.  Secondly — and this is a big one, it was printed in big bold letters in the atlas — when it got to the foreign countries section, it said ‘It is not even remotely important to learn how to correctly pronounce these words and the various subtleties of their language.’  Looking back on it, it was pretty intense and verbose for a child’s book of maps.”

So Don’t Blame The Buffer, another important lesson from this past weekend’s event (others include ‘Don’t Expect A Nogueira To Win Handily’ and ‘Never Bet Against A Fat Guy Who Can Take A Punch’).

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If you clicked to go after the jump, this is just the part where I point out that Rashad Evans delivered on a game plan that may not have been what most fans wanted to see, but I will be darned if he did not execute it to such perfection that I have to admire his performance.

A more in-depth review of the game coming soon to a Sack Mike Goldberg near you.

Strikeforce Heavyweight Champion Alistair Overeem delivers one of many punches in a frighteningly one-sided affair.

And if a picture is worth a thousand words, here is part two of my 2,000 word essay on how Alistair Overeem dominated Brett Rogers in the nastiest beating delivered to a Midwesterner since SMG founder Mike Fagan’s first day in jiu-jitsu class:

It is amazing how hard it is to make a joke about something that is already blatantly ridiculous.

In other news from Strikeforce: Heavy Artillery, fighters with the name Gracie still possess an uncanny ability to underwhelm (Roger Gracie in this instance), Andrei Arlovski still loses fights, and Ronaldo ‘Jacare’ Souza still has trouble when he does not win by “foregone conclusion” submission.

My love for Renato Sobral, affectionately known as ‘Babalu,‘ rivals that of my feelings for Chael Sonnen.