The Overhand Right

The experts gave Junior Dos Santos only a puncher's chance. So he took it, with a powerful overhand right, thrown with his whole body behind it, that landed behind Cain Velasquez's ear and knocked him out. And now Dos Santos is the heavyweight champion of the world. (As I predicted.)

It's interesting that it was the overhand right that won the fight. According to Loren Christensen and Mark Mireles, martial artists, police officers, and authors of Total Defense, by far the most common attack in real life is the overhand right. When two guys on the street fight, the first punch thrown is overwhelmingly likely to be an overhand right.

And here you've got mixed martial arts, the culmination of thousands of years of combat sports, where we've finally learned what works in real fightimg, the distilled, effective core of wrestling, boxing, muay thai, karate, kickboxing, judo, and jiu-jitsu, and what worked on Saturday night, between the two biggest, baddest, best-trained men on the planet was the same thing that works for random guys on the street. The overhand right.

The Fall of Joe Paterno

They fired JoePa last night.

Joe Paterno. Dismissed. Terminated. Fired. Joe Paterno!

And the college kids at Penn State are rioting over the perceived injustice of getting rid of an old man they loved and were proud of.

And the national media is crowing about how, finally, the Trustees did the right thing in choosing Penn State the university over Penn State the football team, and doesn't this prove that Paterno was nothing special to begin with, a fraud, and isn't this what big-time college football is all about, power and money and its misuse, and didn't we tell you all along?

But they're all wrong.

The truth is that Joe Paterno is a good man who failed to do the right thing here, with horrible consequences, and so he had to be punished, and he was, but the story's not over yet.

Let's review the facts. In March 2002, then-graduate-assistant Mike McQueary, age 28 and only a few years removed from his own days as a student-athlete at Penn State, goes back to the football complex at 9:30 pm to get some recruiting tape to work on at home. He hears sex noises coming from the showers, goes over to investigate and finds Jerry Sandusky, legendary former Penn State defensive coordinator and one-time head coach in waiting, now retired, anally raping a ten year old boy. Repeat, just to let the full horror of that sink in – anally raping a ten year old boy in the showers: i.e. fucking a little kid up the ass. Jesus Christ. McQueary, appropriately horrified, but not knowing what to do, runs out, goes home and calls his dad. [Pause: he should have stopped the rape right then, of course. But that was a horrible situation he walked into, totally unprepared I'm sure, so I need to think about his actions a little more before I express more of an opinion. And this post is about Paterno. I'm going to write more about McQueary in my next post.] His dad, apparently, tells McQueary to tell Paterno. McQueary does just that. Paterno then tells his boss, former Athletic Director Tim Curley . Curley then takes immediate action: he bars Sandusky from bringing any more children onto the Penn State campus.

The implication: Goddamit, Jerry, if you're going to rape children, that's fine, but do it on your own time and on your own property, we don't want to have to see it, we don't want to be involved, and we certainly don't want Penn State's good name to be besmirched!

And that's just what Sandusky does. He keeps raping kids, just off-campus. Additional victims have come forward; some were raped by Sandusky after the Penn State locker room shower attack. (And these are just the ones we know about. Criminals, especially powerful ones, get away with a lot of crimes that are undetected. They get caught for the tip of the iceberg, but there's much more that never comes to light.) These were all vulnerable little kids that Sandusky got access to via The Second Mile, the non-profit he set up ostensibly to help at-risk youth from financially poor, absent-father homes. Under the guise of helping these children, Sandusky would take them under his wing, inviting one at a time to tailgates, family dinners, sleepovers, bowl games … and at some point in their escalating entanglement with the man, he would start raping them. It's disgusting and horrible, not least for the sick logic of it all, and my heart goes out to the children first but also to their parents, who must feel horribly guilty for failing to protect their loved ones.

Obviously, when this all came out, Sandusky was arrested and charged with many, many crimes, among them involuntary deviate sexual intercourse and indecent assault, and Curley was fired by Penn State and arrested and charged with perjury and failure to report suspected child abuse by the state of Pennsylvania. Both as they should have been. (And as they would have been, I believe, no matter the sex of the victims. Erin Gloria Ryan over at Jezebel, one of my favorite writers, wrote about how maybe there wouldn't have been any justice if the victims had been girls. I disagree. Protecting children trumps gender discrimination. If this had all come out the way it did, but the victims were little girls, heads would have rolled just as they did here.)

But what about Paterno? He arguably didn't do anything illegal, because he reported the incident to his boss. But he should have done more.

Put yourself in his shoes. You're 76 years old. You've been the head coach of an enormously successfully college football team for 36 years. You've won 2 national championships. Earned many millions of dollars. You get paid $1 million per year. And a kid who you used to coach, who just started working for you, comes to you and tells you he saw a guy raping a 10 year old up the ass in what is, essentially, your office. What do you do?

Absolutely you tell your own boss, as Paterno did. But then, when nothing much happens and you still see the accused around your office, don't you do more? When your office is part of a school? When your job is to teach children, older children than the kid who got raped, but children still? When you're a parent yourself, and a grandparent? Don't you call the police? You have to.

Let's give you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe McQueary didn't tell you in explicit detail what he saw, because, really, nobody wants to talk about anal rape with his grandfather. And maybe McQueary's lying, for all you know. Maybe Jerry didn't do anything. Maybe McQueary hates him and is trying to set him up. You don't know.

But that's the point. You don't know. So you call in the police to investigate, so that the truth can come out. In doing so, you protect whoever the real victim is. If the allegations are false, you protect Sandusky from false accusations. But if the allegations are true, you get justice for that kid and you protect future kids from having the same horrible thing happen to them.

Or maybe not. Maybe you say hey, I told my boss and if he doesn't do anything, I better not do anything, because I don't want to cross him, I might get in trouble.

But no, I don't think so. You're Joe freaking Paterno. You're not going to get in trouble for telling police that one of your subordinates alleged to you that an old man was anally raping a little kid in your office. Even if what you were told turns out to be false, you're never going to get in trouble for telling the truth as you understood it. You're Joe Paterno and this is Penn State!

But Paterno didn't do that. I wonder why? I don't know. Maybe Joe Posnanski, honestly the best sportswriter in America, who has been in State College for the last few months writing a book about Paterno, can figure it out and tell us someday. I don't know. But I do know that because Paterno didn't call the cops, more kids got raped who would probably have been safe otherwise. And that's a big deal, a huge deal, a colossal failure on Paterno's part, and for that failure Joe had to go.

And I love Paterno. Love him in a hero-worshipping, grandfather-figure kind of way. Because I was a kid in the 80s, during Paterno's golden years, a kid growing up without a dad himself, Italian-American like Paterno, wearing glasses like him, from the Mid-Atlantic like him, a football-loving, football-playing kid, who ended up becoming an Ivy League grad like Paterno, because I was proud of him for being a member of my tribe who made good – for all those reasons I am conflicted about punishing him and understand why those kids at Penn State rallied in his support. He's their grandfather too, and you support your grandfather. But sometimes your grandfather makes a mistake, and when he does, he has to pay the price like anyone else. No double standards.

But that's not the end of the story. How will Paterno live out the rest of his life? Will he accept his share of responsibility? Will he do some good yet, before the end? Maybe for those kids who he failed to protect? He's got lots of money and prestige and power left, even now. People still love and respect Joe Paterno. And he's used his power for good in the past – donating over $3.5 million to the university, for example. I hope he finds those kids he failed or other in similar situations, and does right by them.

Because their stories aren't ended yet either, and I'm sure they could use the help.

UFC 137

Aoki v. Rupp

Rupp got robbed. He was just as good at takedowns as Aoki, and he was much much better on his feet. He hurt Aoki with some strikes: a right hand to the head, a roundhouse to the head. Aoki had some nice trips to bring Rupp down, but Aoki never hurt Rupp. It was a close fight, but Rupp was clearly better. He got jobbed. Maybe it was chance. Or maybe the UFC needs a successful Asian fighter to market in Asia.

Curran v. Jorgenson

This was an even closer fight, but the judges got this one right. I don't think either guy hurt the other or got close to a submission, but Jorgenson controlled the fight with takedowns. Some very technical grappling in this one. Close decision to Jorgenson for being more aggresive.

Mirko "Cro Cop" Filipovitch v. Roy "Big Country" Nelson

Well, that was sad. Mirko was just too old. He was in great shape, but he's lost his speed. Nelson was in the best shape of his life, which wasn't as fit as Filipovitch, but wasn't bad. And he's just big and strong and tough and skilled. He

Kongo v. Mitrione

Another close fight. Even on the feet. Kongo wins by getting a takedown in round 3.

Diaz v. Penn.

Diaz was too fit. He wore Penn down.

Frankie Edgar Shows the Eye of the Tiger

Joe Lauzon v. Melvin Guillard

Guillard looked like he would kill Lauzon. He was bigger, more muscular, and seemed much more confident, happily high-fiving seemingly every fan in the arena as he walked to the ring. Plus, Josh Gross and the other ESPN MMA analysts had all picked Guillard to win easily. They said he was one of the best lightweights in the world. I was pulling for Lauzon, the kid from Bridgewater, Mass., but I didn't really think he had a chance. And in the early going, Guillard looked dominant. But then he slipped, and Lauzon was all over him, and then Lauzon had a chance to get a guillotine choke, which flowed into a rear naked choke, and it didn't look tight and you figured Guillard would get out of it but at least Lauzon had a chance now and I was hollering at the screen for Lauzon to sink it in tight and still it looked like Guillard would escape but then he wasn't and then . . . he tapped! Lauzon wins by submission! What an upset! Guillard seems stunned by the loss, nearly in tears, but it's too late now dude, you tapped.

Nam Phan vs. Leonard Garcia

This was the weirdest fight ever. Phan was quicker and more skilled and more fit, but wasn't aggressive enough to take full advantage of those advantages. Garcia was more powerful, but he was so sloppy, throwing these big looping punches, leading with his head, stopping to catch his breath. Phan should have knocked Garcia out a hundred times, but I guess he was cautious of Garcia's power. So Phan fought conservatively, was never really in danger, and took a decision. Disappointing fight. Phan should have taken Garcia out.

Brian Stann v. Chael Sonnen

I wouldn't want to fight Brian Stann. That is one big, tough looking motherfucker. And he's a former Marine captain.

Chael Sonnen is a guy I've heard so much about. He's the guy who everyone says had the unbeatable Anderson Silva beaten . . . until he got caught in a submission literally in the last seconds of the fight. He's supposed to be special, and I want to see if this is true or not.

It is. After a very even fight for two ? rounds, Sonnen locked up Stann in a submission attempt I've never seen before -- it locked like some kind of elbow crank -- and eventually the big Marine cracked and tapped out. That was very creative. I was impressed.

Kenny Florian v. Jose Aldo

This is supposed to be the co-main event. I'm pulling for Florian, an older Boston guy, to upset Aldo, the featherweight champ. But after two rounds, neither man is showing me much. I'd call it a boring tie at this point.

3rd round goes to Aldo, though. He definitely did more damage. Florian tried for some takedowns and submissions, but didn't really get anywhere. Also did some damage with his striking.

4th round is more of the same. Aldo staying slightly ahead of Florian. Not much going on, really. The best part of the round was the shots of random, bored women in the crowd. One girl did her nails. Another checked for texts on her iPhone.

5th and final round. Aldo is slightly more powerful, slightly more aggressive, slightly more accurate on strikes. Neither man gets a big takedown. But when the scramble ends up on the ground, Also is slightly more dominant. Florian tries hard to generate some offense at the end, but no dice. In the end, I think we'll remember Kenny Florian as a skilled defensive fighter. Which is great for self-defense, but not quite enough to win a UFC title. Aldo, to no one's surprise, takes the decision.

Frankie Edgar v. Gray Maynard

This is the real main event, the lightweight title fight, between South Jersey's own Frankie Edgar, the champ, and Gray Maynard, who beat Edgar once (in a non-title fight) and fought him to a draw the second time (this was a title fight, and since Edgar was the champ at the time, Edgar retained the title).

Round 1. Maynard. Edgar is covered in his own blood.

Round 2. Maynard. He keeps throwing uppercuts to the chin for which Edgar has no defense.

Round 3. Edgar is the faster man, but his speed does him no good if he doesn't use it aggresively. He should be letting his hands go and throwing combinations, but he isn't. Now he does score a few shots. I'll give him this round. Maynard knows he is ahead and is fighting defensively.

Round 4. Edgar stays on the offensive. Maynard better be careful he doesn't lose this fight by being too conservative now. And then ... there's an attempt at a takedown, a scramble, both men grappling for a hold, and Edgar throws a punch that catches Maynard on the chin and snaps his head back and Edgar smells blood and throws another, an uppercut that catches Maynard flush and now Maynard is hurt and he's back against the rope and Edgar catches him flush on the jaw again and Maynard goes down and Edgar follows, still throwing punches to the the head, all of which land and the ref stops the fight. Holy crap! Edgar wins! He was losing, badly, from the get-go, but he came back, again, and won by TKO. Fantastic! Jersey retains its homegrown MMA champion!

Bones v. the Dragon

Dana White just tweeted that the next UFC light heavyweight championship will be Jon "Bones" Jones vs. Lyoto "the Dragon" Machida. As a former karate guy, I'll be pulling for Machida, the best karateka to fight in the UFC in years, if not ever. But if I had to bet my life savings, I'd bet on Jones. That kid is a special fighter.

UFC Live on VERSUS: Cruz Wins Tough Fight

You gotta give it to Mighty Mouse. Demetrious "Mighty Mouse" Johnson, the part-time construction worker, gave UFC bantamweight champion Dominick Cruz the toughest fight of Cruz's career on Saturday night. Johnson was a much more difficult challenge for Cruz than the much-more-hyped Uriah Faber ever was. Johnson was at least as quick as Cruz, and was an excellent boxer. His cardio was also as good as Cruz's, and between the hand speed and the pace of the fight, Cruz got away from the oblique angles and capoeira footwork that make him special. It didn't matter in the end, though, because Cruz adjusted, went to his wrestling, and body-slammed his way to victory with two impressive suplexes.

The Greatest MMA Fighter (Right Now)

Who is the greatest Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) fighter right now? This is a tough question, but I'm going to try to answer it because it's a heck of a lot easier than "Who is the greatest MMA fighter OF ALL TIME?", which I hope to get to later.

First of all, there will be none of this pound for pound stuff. The best MMA fighter alive should be able to step into a cage or octagon and beat anyone else on the planet. Anyone. Bigger, smaller, lighter, heavier, whatever.

The only question is, when 2 men enter and 1 man leaves, who is that man?

I see several worthy candidates: Georges St. Pierre, Anderson Silva, Jon Jones, Cain Velasquez, and Junior Dos Santos.

St. Pierre and Silva are generally acknowledged as the two most skilled fighters out there. Both are extremely experienced, extremely athletic, and in their physical prime. Neither has been beaten in a long time. But both are relatively light guys, compared to the others in the top 5. St. Pierre is 5'10", fights at 170 lbs., and reportedly walks around at 190. Silva is 6'2", fights at 185, and reportedly walks around at 230. Jones is 6'4" and fights at 205. His walking-around weight is 217. Velasquez is not that tall, at 6'1", but he fights and walks around in the mid-240s. Jones and Silva are extremely lean, naturally skinny guys, whereas Velasquez is muscular. And Dos Santos is lean and muscular, at 6'4", 239 lbs.

So let's boil that down. Having seen all of these guys fight, I think St. Pierre is the most skilled martial artist, but they are all highly skilled. And, come fight night, St. Pierre gives up 15 pounds to Silva, 35 pounds to Jones, 69 pounds to Dos Santos, and 75 pounds to Velasquez. And that weight difference is all muscle. None of these guys is fat or out-of-shape; all have excellent cardio. I've seen smaller guys beat bigger guys because of radical differences in skill and/or conditioning. None of that applies here.

Translated: St. Pierre loses. He's just too small.

What about the other 4? All slightly over 6 feet in height. Two skinny guys, Jones and Silva, and 2 muscular guys, Velasquez and Dos Santos.

Who wins if Jones fights Silva? I think Jones wins. He's got an extra 20 pounds of muscle and I think he's smarter and better trained, with more heart.

I doubt Silva could beat Velasquez or Dos Santos either. Velasquez is too good of a grappler and Dos Santos is Silva's equal as a striker, because although he may not be quite as skilled, he's got more power.

The question then becomes, could Jones beat Velasquez or Dos Santos. Maybe. I saw Jones submit Quinton "Rampage" Jackson on Saturday night, and Jackson was big, strong and angry. But Jackson was also a one-trick pony (boxing) and Velasquez and Dos Santos bring more to the table than one skill set.

I think either would beat Jones. They have too much power.

Thus, it comes down to Velasquez versus Dos Santos. And what do you know, we're going to actually see that fight, on November 12 on FOX.

So, the best MMA fighter alive will be whoever wins the first live network MMA fight. It all makes sense. The best heavyweight is the best fighter. Same as it ever was. "A good big man beats a good little man" as they used to say back in the days when boxing was the premier combat sport. And I think the best good big man is ... Junior Dos Santos!

I saw Dos Santos destroy a big, game, powerful Shane Carwin. And I saw Velasquez beat a Brock Lesnar who, while huge, quick and powerful, fought like a confused, slightly frightened polar bear.

I'm more impressed with Dos Santos. I think he's the new heavyweight champ . . . and Earth's greatest (current) MMA fighter.

Diaz v. Penn

Nick Diaz is getting another chance in the UFC -- he's been matched against the legendary B.J. Penn -- and that's a good thing. We all deserve a second chance. Here's hoping that this time he overcomes his fear of the media and does the pre-fight press conferences. It might help him to keep in mind that although the press might ask some embarrassing questions, they are significantly less likely than Penn to put him in a painful submission hold. And although embarrassment feels bad, the feeling goes away much more quickly than, for example, a dislocated elbow. If Diaz is brave enough to step into the octagon, he's brave enough to step into the media room.

Who is the greatest ____?

Found a cool new sports website the other day: http://www.who-is-thegreatest.com/. It's full of articles about the greatest athletes and greatest sporting events. It gives you a chance to vote your favorites into the hall of fame. I think it's a pretty cool idea and I'm going to write an article or two for them about MMA. Check out the site -- it's worth your time.

Nick Diaz: Sick, Not Bad

As I'm sure you've all heard, Nick Diaz got dropped from UFC 137, thereby losing his chance to fight Georges St. Pierre for the welterweight title, because he failed to show up for two pre-fight news conferences to promote the fight. People are making Diaz out to be a spoiled, selfish athlete, implying he just couldn't be bothered to attend either press conference. Dana White said that Diaz lied to his face about the two missed press conferences. But the man who knows Diaz best is his trainer Cesar Gracie. And Gracie, while embarassed by Diaz's no-shows, also says Diaz has a social anxiety disorder that he self-medicates with marijuana. If so, then shaming the guy isn't going to change his behavior.

Social anxiety disorder is: "Extreme, persistent and disabling social anxiety . . . having physiological components (e.g., sweating, blushing), cognitive/perceptual components (e.g., belief that one may be judged negatively or looking for signs of disapproval), and behavioral components (e.g. avoiding a situation). The essence of social anxiety has been said to be an irrational or unreasonable expectation of negative evaluation by others.^[1] One theory is that social anxiety occurs when there is motivation to make a desired impression along with doubt about having the ability to do so.^[12]"

So, here you have a kid from the wrong side of the tracks who knows he is uneducated and has language difficulties. He wants to make a good impression at these press conferences, but he doubts his ability to do so in front of all these educated, verbally adroit journalists. He gets scared, smokes dope to deal with the fear, and is too high to think straight and make sure he gets on that plane. Then he's ashamed of himself and hides from his teacher, his friends, and his boss.

It all makes sense. And no, the logical explanation doesn't change the fact that the UFC needs its fighers to promote the fights so that people watch said fights. And thus it makes sense to drop a fighter who isn't able to do those promotions.

But social anxiety disorder is curable through cognitive-behavioral therapy. And marijuana addiction is curable as well, through good therapy and regular participation in a twelve-step group like Narcotics Anonymous.

Nick Diaz just lost an opportunity to win the title of world's best welterweight mixed martial artist, which means he lost the potential paydays that would have come with winning that UFC title. But he shouldn't waste this crisis.

He needs to learn the lesson life is giving him. Get help. Get a good therapist. Go to NA meetings. Cure his social anxiety disorder and his marijuana addiction.

He is a very talented martial artist. He will get other opportunities to fight. And if he proves, by showing up at all the promotional events, that he has gotten his mind under control, then I predict he will get another opportunity to fight for the title.

After all, America loves a comeback story.
nity to become

UFC 134: Silva, Shogun, Minotauro, Pearson And The Other Silva Impress

When I remember UFC 134, I'll remember this: Anderson Silva stands still, both hands at his waist, daring Yushin Okami to strike him in the face, and Okami lacks the courage to do it.

Sure, it was a trap. Silva probably had a response all planned if Okami took the shot. But it was also an opportunity, one Okami was too cautious to take. Which is how Okami fought the whole time -- too cautiously -- and it cost him the fight. Silva was quicker, with a longer reach. Because Okami fought so defensively, Silva was able to stay on the outside and throw strikes without fear of being hit. And eventually, those strikes landed and Okami got knocked out.

That never would have happened if Silva had been fighting either Ross Pearson or Rodrigo "Minotauro" Nogueira. Both of those men put on a clinic in how to fight quicker, longer opponents. You have to be aggressive, constantly moving inside and attacking. When you're close enough to hit him or grapple him, then you've negated his reach advantage. And by taking the offensive, you force him to respond to you, negating the speed advantage. But pursuing that strategy takes heart, because coming inside gives your opponent more opportunities to hit or grapple you too. Both Pearson and Nogueria showed that heart.

Yes, Pearson lost. But he went the distance against the heavily favored Edson Barboza and he just barely lost, via split decision. Two judges picked Barboza as the winner, but one judge picked Pearson, and I know from listening to the mmajunkie.com podcast that a lot of people think Pearson should have been given the decision, not Barboza.

And Nogueria did win. He knocked out rising heavyweight contender Brendan Schaub. That was such an interesting fight. Schaub fought like a modern mixed martial artist: lots of movement, lots of different techniques. Nogueria just walked forward and punched Schaub in the head. And Nogueria's strategy worked. KISS, as my grandfather, Pop Pop Joe, used to say: keep it simple, stupid. And he was right: what Nogueria did wasn't fancy, but it was smart. It negated Schaub's youth, speed, and size and gave Nogueria an opportunity to win. He kept coming inside, and yes, he took his licks to do so, but as a result he was able to land a knockout blow and win.

A quick word about the Mauricio Rua -- Forrest Griffin fight. As soon as I saw Griffin walk out, I knew he would lose. He was so stiff. His back never moved. I think he was having back problems. I say that as someone who has had back problems myself. You can't perform at your best with a bad back. And he didn't. And he lost.

The other memorable moment of the night was the way in which Erick Silva knocked out Luis Ramos. It had been a good fight, a classic welterweight matchup between two quick little guys without a lot of power, full of sound and fury signifying nothing, as Faulkner would have said. And then . . . suddenly, Silva morphed into the second coming of Bruce Lee, throwing a straight lead, the foundational jete kune do technique: a long, lunging punch with some power. It stunned Ramos for a split second and then immediately on its heels came the overhand right, with a lot of power, and Ramos was knocked out. It was a beautiful combination by Silva.

The Little Dragon would have been proud.

Konrad v. Buentello: THE WORST FIGHT I'VE EVER SEEN

Have you ever watched two half-naked fat guys posture for 15 minutes, circling, sweating, jiggling, always jiggling, but never actually fighting? If you had the misfortune, as I did, of watching the Bellator heavyweight "super" fight between Cole Konrad and Paul Buentello last night, then yes, yes you have, and you'll never get those minutes back.

I like Bellator. I like that they are challenging the market dominance of the UFC. I like that they have an intelligent strategy -- tournaments -- and a television partner -- MTV2 -- that enables them to air their fights on free TV. And their lighter weight divisions are great, filled with talented mixed martial artists who actually, you know, fight.

But, good God, that heavyweight fight last night was the worst fight I've ever seen, bar none. The "combatants" were so out of shape, so unskilled, so afraid ...

Words fail me. Except one.

Jiggle.

UFC in Pittsburgh: Judge's Horror Story

Poor Rick Story. He travels across the country from Vancouver, Washington to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to fight Nate Marquardt. But Marquardt flunks his physical for undisclosed reasons and gets banned from the UFC (Banned! For flunking a physical! That doesn't happen lightly. No way to know for sure, but I'm guessing recreational, illegal drugs were found in his system. Dana White seems like the kind of guy who wouldn't tolerate a heroin addiction.) and Story ends up having to fight a local boy, Pennsylvania's own Charlie Brenneman.

Obviously, that's a home court advantage for Brenneman, and it showed up in the judging. Yes, Brenneman was the more athletic fighter. (And he definitely had the more impressive beard and hair -- guy had like a lion's mane thing going on.) He was quicker and he took Story to the mat time and again with double-legged take downs. But once they were on the ground, Story always dominated with his jiu-jitsu. Brenneman did no damage, throwing weak punches while barely evading -- and I mean just barely -- submission attempts by Story. Numerous times, Story nearly finished the fight on guillotine chokes and triangles. All Brenneman did was survive. Yet, somehow, Brenneman won a decision.

The fix was in.

UFC 131

9:05 Ok, noted douchebag Joe Rogan was shown wearing a do-rag in the promo. Just when you think he can't get any douchier . . .

9:06 Drinking a Flying Fish Farmhouse Summer Ale. Flying Fish is Jersey's finest brewery. Competition is not keen.

9:11 Vagner Rocha enters the ring for his UFC debut. I've never seen a fighter so excited. He's like a kid in a _____ ______.

He's fighting Donald Cerrone, who looks ripped. And calm. Can you be a bigtime martial artist if your name is Donald? We're about to find out. I'm pulling for Donald.

9:17 This first fight seems evenly matched.

9:19 Nice leg catch by Cerrone on a kick by Rocha. Dumped Rocha on his butt.

9:20 Cerrone won the first round.

9:25 Cerrone landing the more powerful kicks. Crazy takedown attempt from the botton by Rocha. He jumped on Cerrone's chest and fell backwards. He got him down but couldn't do anything with it. Again, Cerrone wins the round.

9:32 Cerrone tried hard for the knockout in the final round, but Rocha managed to survive to the end. At which point he immediately sat down, evidence that he's in pain from all those vicious kicks to the leg.

9:34 Cerrone wins by decision. But why does he have to wear that goofy looking cowboy hat?

9:43 Next fight: Indiana's own Dave Herman versus some much-hyped Viking dude.

9:59 Ok, the knees to the head won that fight for our boy Dave. So much for the Viking.

10:04 Mark Munoz, the rare Hispanic born in Japan who went on to win an NCAA Division 1 wrestling title, versus Demian Maia, a Brazilian. This should be a great wrestling versus jiu jitsu bout.

10:08 Oh look, it's ring announcer Bruce Buffer looking debauched in a gold tie.

And much time passes while I Skype with my girlfriend in Atlanta. She's horrified to hear that I'm writing about MMA. She doesn't really get the joy of fighting. What can I say? I'm a man, baby ...

11:02 The main event begins. Shane Carwin gets hammered brutally. Blow after blow to the face. Junior Dos Santos can't believe that the ref isn't stopping the fight. He's looking at the ref even as he continues to punch Carwin. But no, the fight continues. Carwin struggles back to his feet. His nose is broken. He's covered in blood. He's 36 years old, fighting a man ten years younger. He's going to lose.

And he does. But he goes the distance. And we learned something. Carwin has heart. And an iron chin. But Dos Santos is the better athlete and the better fighter, able to beat a champion wrestler with heavy hands. Dos Santos stuffed just about every take down attempt by Carwin.

Dos Santos looked fantastic in this fight. Which means the coming title fight against Cain Velasquez should be fantastic as well.

Big Heavyweight Bout Tonight!

I will be liveblogging UFC 131 tonight.

Dana White

So, I listened to Dana White today on the Adam Carolla podcast. I was impressed with White. I think he gets a bum rap from the mainstream media. They make him out to be a hot-headed thug, a guy who just got lucky and was in the right place at the right time, but doesn't deserve to be the commissioner of a major sport. Well, they're idiots. White is bright. He just comes from a blue collar background and so these white collar guys don't get him. I do, because I come from blue collar as well. He's direct and doesn't pussyfoot around using euphemisms and being afraid to offend people. Those are blue collar values -- good values, and ones that I share.

I've always been a fan of the UFC. Today I became a fan of Dana White.

UFC 100

Alright, we're live in the Big Chair at my house for UFC 100.

So far, we've seen two fights. Yoshihiro Akiyama v. Alan Belcher, and Michael Bishping v. Dan Henderson. Akiyama is apparently a big star in Japan, and you could see why. Heavy hands, smart, and a judo champion. Had a lot of confidence. Not intimidated, even though this was his first fight in the US. But Belcher, a brown belt in jiu-jitsu, fought very well. Escaped an ippon from the judo master. Knocked Akiyama down briefly with a hook. It was a very good, close fight. Both guys went all out. Belcher did kick Akiyama in the balls, after which they stopped the fight for a minute. The ref gave Akiyama five minutes, but to his credit the Japanese dude didn't take half that time. But it just shows you how far the UFC has come from its origins. I mean, it's not self-defense if you can't kick someone in the balls. And if you can't even protect your balls, how good of a martial artist are you? Anyway, the fight continued, it was a good fight, and in the end, the judges gave the split decision to Akiyama. Big surprise: the undefeated dude with the big following in the relatively untapped by the UFC Asian market got the close decision. Even Joe Rogan said Belcher got robbed.

The Bishping-Henderson fight was a disappointment. Bishping, a favorite of mine from the Ultimate Fighter, let me down. I remember Bishping as a smart, skilled fighter with a chip on his shoulder. He showed some smarts tonight, by staying the hell away from Henderson, circling, circling, moving his head, keeping his hands up to defend. That got him through the first round. But Henderson was much bigger -- thicker, more muscular. Basically, I think Henderson was on the juice, whereas Bishping, though taller, just looked skinny and weak. He never threatened Henderson, and was threatened by Henderson the whole fight. And, in the second round, Henderson caught Bishping with a perfect hook. Bishping was circling to his left, and he circled directly into Henderson's right hook. "The Count" was unconscious before he hit the canvas, but Henderson showed the killer instinct, gleefully jumping on the prone Bishping and landing another hard shot to the chin before the ref could pull him off.

Now, we've got Thiago Alves v. Georges St. Pierre. GSP is the current golden boy of MMA, the pound-for-pound champ. I haven't watched him in a while. I remember him looking, well, not tough, not physically tough, in losing to Matt Hughes. How does he look now?

Awesomely quick and skilled. Alves is very quick, but he St. Pierre is a beat quicker. GSP gets takedowns at will. Controls the fight. At one point, Alves, a muay thai star, throws a fast, skilled kick to the body. GSP still caught it and used the leg to take Alves down.

I'm looking forward to the main event. Frank Mir v. Brock Lesnar. Lesnar is freakishly huge. Looks like an action figure. I remember when he tried out for the Vikings a few years back. Apparently, he didn't have the skill to play D-line at the pro level, having not played college football. But he had the skill to knock out Randy Couture in his last fight. So, we'll see. Mir, I first heard of when I went to Vegas for my buddy Jay's bachelor party a few years ago. Harris Brumer, former Florida high school wrestling champ and still the toughest guy I personally have ever known, told me that Mir had been a great fighter back in the day and was making a comeback. I don't think Mir won that night's fight -- if I remember correctly -- Brumer went to the watch the fight live and text-messaged the rest of us at the steakhouse with the results of each fight.

St. Pierre still dominating, by the way. Nearly knocked Alves out there. (By the way, the amount of blood-stains on the floor of the Octagon is amazing. It's everywhere. These guys -- the blood of their predecessors is literally under their feet.) Then he nearly submits Alves.

In the end, Alves gets the moral victory of surviving all five rounds. But St. Pierre takes a really, really unanimous decision.

The real surprise is Joe Rogan. Shows some knowledge of martial arts. And asks a good question. Will St. Pierre move up to middleweight to fight Anderson Silva? The crowd roars. St. Pierre gives an embarrased smile. Says he is already the champion, but he might do it for the challenge. Bad idea. St. Pierre is small. He was smaller than Alves. To fight at the next weight class up? Tough. Bigger guys have more power. And they can take harder shots. So, St. Pierre's blows won't hurt as much, and the blows he takes will hurt more.

Ok, we're on to Lesnar-Mir. I'm gonna take Lesnar, only because I know little of Mir. That said, Lesnar looks a little chubby. Huge, but with a layer of blubber. A whale of a man. And the sword tatto down his chest looks weird.

Fight starts. Lesnar ends up on top in a scramble. Bad place for Mir. Lesnar pounds away with short, powerful blows to the head. Mir is bleeding. Round one to Lesnar. But the crowd boos. Technical fight so far, on the ground the whole time. The mob prefers stand-up.

Second round. Mir has a moment, when he throws some quick punches and a flying knee during some close quarters standup. But then it goes to the ground again. The Whale on top. More of those short, extremely powerful blows to the head. They take their toll. The Whale smells blood. Lands a flurry of blows to Mir's head. Mir is defenseless, and the ref stops the fight.

The crowd continues to boo. The Whale gives them the finger! He gives the fans the finger! The he beckons them to keep booing, and says he loves it. Yeah, you can tell this guy used to be a pro wrestler. He's still playing the villain.

His post-fight interview is a joke. Talking about pulling a horseshoe out of Mir's ass. Howling into the mike. Saying he's going to go home and get on top of his wife. That's fine -- hell, I'd get on top of my wife in that situation too, but I wouldn't announce it to an audience of millions of strangers.

I think I've become a Lesnar hater. Bring on Fedor Emilianko!

Wang v. Melendez

Let's check in on the latest episode of The Ultimate Fighter. In case you haven't been following things, Team Pulver has won every fight so far. The last match was the closest. Diaz beat Emerson. Emerson was good; Diaz was just a bit better. It looked like Diaz was going to submit Emerson in round two with an armbar, but Emerson was smart enough to throw his body in the direction Diaz was trying to bend his arm, and Emerson escaped ... only to get caught with a rear naked choke and tap with 18 seconds left.

So, Jens Pulver picks Melendez and matches him against Andy Wang. I have high hopes for Wang. He talks about having learned tai chi from his grandfather, who he doesn't want to let down in this fight. He says each fight is a chance to show warrior spirit. He's a black belt in brazilian jiu-jitsu. And he apparently played running back at the University of Hawaii. But he apparently has a history of refusing to try to submit opponents, preferring to trade strikes. Andy's coach, B.J. Penn, makes Andy promise to go for the submission if B.J. tells him to do so.

The fight begins. Melendez is a lot taller and 15 pounds heavier. It quickly becomes apparent that Melendez is also a little quicker and a little more skilled as a striker. Andy does have good defensive skills, but they won't win him the fight. Melendez takes the first round.

B.J. tells Andy to go for the submission in round two, and Andy says he will. I think he may have tried to go for the take-down twice. But he doesn't get it either time, and on each attempt he gives up too quickly. Not to mention, Andy should have tried to get a take-down more than twice. He just doesn't look like he's that good at take-downs. I'm reminded of what my friend Harris Brumer (former state wrestling champ in high school, current student of Brandon "The Truth" Vera) said about wrestling, that it teaches you takedowns better than jiu-jitsu does. Andy is proving the truth of that statement. He can't take Melendez down.

The fight goes the distance and remains a pure striking match. Not surprisingly then, Melendez, the better fighter, wins a unanimous decision.

And then Andy starts crying. He feels bad because he let people down. I can respect that. But he's really howling. Shrieking. Gibbering. Screaming. It's a little embarrassing.

Team Pulver: 4. Team Penn: 0.

Joe Must Go!

Rumor has it that the holdup between the UFC and HBO has to do with the commentators. Some people think that the cable network is willing to make a deal to broadcast MMA cards, but only if it can replace the current tandem of announcers: Mike Goldberg and Joe Rogan. Whether this rumor is true or not, I can't tell you. But I can tell you this: Joe Rogan sucks. And if it turns out that HBO isn't trying to get rid of him, then I will.

Let's begin by giving the devil his due and describing what Joe Rogan brings to the table as a color commentator. He is adequately knowledgeable about mixed martial arts. He can identify a triangle choke, an arm-bar, and a guillotine. He can tell a roundhouse kick from a side kick, and he can correctly identify a punch as a jab, an overhand right, or a spinning back fist. In addition, he brings a certain celebrity to the broadcast. He has had success in Hollywood. He was a part of the cast on the sitcom News Radio and, more importantly, he has been the host of the extremely successful series Fear Factor.

But I want a color commentator who is more than adequately knowledgeable. I can identify a triangle choke, a back fist and a jab. I don't need anyone else to do that for me. For those who do, that's what Mike Goldberg is doing. He's the MMA equivalent of the play-by-play guy in an NFL broadcast. Goldberg is like Pat Summerall: he describes what's happening, and he does a fine job. But the UFC needs to partner him with a John Madden: someone who can explain what's happening. Later on in this article, I'll suggest some people who could fill this role. For now, suffice it to say that Joe Rogan doesn't do it; he doesn't explain the action, he merely describes it -- and only adequately.

Nor is his celebrity status enough. UFC commissioner Dana White said that he has spent years building the UFC brand, and he doesn't want HBO to screw it up. Therefore, he doesn't want to relinquish creative control over the broadcast to HBO. He's right: he has built the brand, and HBO could screw it up, and therefore he shouldn't relinquish control to them. However, that doesn't mean he shouldn't use his control to make improvements. It may be that, several years ago, when the UFC was relatively unknown, people bought the pay-per-view packages because they knew Joe Rogan from Fear Factor and they heard he was announcing. I find it hard to believe that anyone would have decided to pay the $50 fee for pay-per-view to listen to Joe Rogan, but I'll concede it might have happened. If so, it doesn't happen anymore. The UFC is no longer unknown -- it's now more popular than boxing. Current fans watch the next pay-per-view because they enjoyed the last one. Newcomers tune in because they want to check out mixed martial arts -- not because they want to watch a C-list celebrity like Joe Rogan. Dana White wants to build the brand? Joe Rogan has grown the brand as much as he's ever going to grow it. It would be like if Monday Night Football had paired Summerall with ... I don't know ... Nicole Ritchie. If it had, the NFL wouldn't be the nation's most popular sport today. And people wouldn't be playing Ritchie the way they play Madden. (By the way, have you noticed that there is no UFC video game comparable in popularity to the above-mentioned football video game? Coincidence? I think not.)

So much for the positives that Joe Rogan supposedly brings to the table. What about the negatives? I'm glad you asked.

First of all, he's arrogant and mean-spirited. I used to watch Fear Factor quite a bit, and in doing so I got to know Joe Rogan better than I wanted. I can't count the number of insulting, cutting remarks he made about contestants. I can tell you, though, that he never directed those remarks at good-looking female contestants. Apparently, he thought the viewing audience was too stupid to be bothered by his blatant double-standards.

Second, he's a coward. Numerous times on Fear Factor, a contestant would challenge Rogan to do one of the stunts. He never once had the balls to do it. And this is the guy we have announcing no-holds-barred fights? It's a disgrace.

Third, he killed the greatest show ever to grace our nation's airways. I speak, of course, of The Man Show. The original Man Show, hosted by Adam Carolla and Jimmy Kimmel, was comedic genius. Who can forget the Man Show Boy, or the Wheel of Destiny, or the advice segments from Karl Malone, or the Juggies, or the beer-chugging, audience-wide toast of “Ziggy Sockey, Ziggy Sockey, Hoy, Hoy, Hoy”? But then, after four successful seasons, Carolla and Kimmel left for other projects, and were replaced by Doug Stanhope and Joe Rogan. While Stanhope wasn't Carolla or Kimmel, he was occasionally funny. Joe Rogan was never funny. Never. Ever. As a result, the show went downhill and was canceled after one season with the new hosts.

Now, you might say, “Okay, Joe Rogan isn't a comedian. What does that have to do with him announcing the UFC?” Nothing, except -- he ruined The Man Show! The Man Show! That kind of thing can't be forgiven. He needs to pay a price, and if that price is that he gets run out of the entertainment industry, well, that's a price I'm prepared to have him pay. Because he might ruin the UFC next.

And it's not like there aren't men available who could replace Joe Rogan and do a better job. Adam Carolla would be funny and smart, and as a former pro boxer, he knows a little about fighting. Or what about Sam Sheridan? The Fighter's Heart author has actually fought in MMA, as well as training with some of the best martial artists in the world. In addition, he has thought deeply and critically about fight sports. I think he would bring an interesting perspective. Or, we could go the classic sports television route and bring in a current or retired UFC competitor to provide color. Two names that jump to my mind are Matt Serra and Tito Ortiz. I watched both of those guys on different seasons of The Ultimate Fighter, and each struck me as bright, knowledgeable, and articulate. In addition, each comes with a fan base from his success as a UFC fighter. I bet either of those guys could add value to a broadcast with inside information about training, techniques, strategy, etc. It would be, I bet, like listening to a boxing match where the color is provided by Teddy Atlas. I love watching Friday Night Fights because Atlas tells me stuff I don't already know. Joe Rogan never does that.

So why is he still in the booth?

The Ultimate Fighter Season Five premiere

I was originally going to write this first entry about IFL Battleground. But it's boring, so I am switching to the season premiere of The Ultimate Fighter (TUF) which luckily I've TiVo-ed.

Should be interesting. We've got an Asian guy, for the first time ever on TUF. Many of the martial arts are Asian in origin. Will this guy represent? Or will he dishonor his ancestors? Or will he just be himself and live out some third, less extreme option? There's a 6'4'', 155 pound black guy. He's already annoying me by trying to hide his insecurity behind a facade of overconfidence. There's a gay dude from California, who, judging from the clips of future episodes, will be executing a brave but possibly foolish strategy of attempting to use his homosexuality to his advantage by snuggling with the other guys and sitting on their laps. There's a dude from Maine who owns a seafood restaurant (the “Monstah Lobstah”). The coaches are active MMA fighters B.J. “the Prodigy” Penn (boring nickname) and Jens “Little Evil” Pulver (awesome nickname). And of course, providing cameo appearances will be the head of the UFC, Dana White, the Commissioner-as-Common-Man.

Dana immediately describes this season's contestants as “some crazy motherf----ers.” You think David Stern, the NBA commissioner, would ever go on the air and describe his players as “crazy motherf----ers”?

Here's what I know about B.J. Penn. B.J. has phenomenal, unbelievable flexibility, which is a huge advantage for him when grappling. Submission holds that would cause another man to tap don't cause B.J. any pain at all; in addition, that flexibility enables B.J. to attempt submissions from weird, unexpected angles that the average guy would never be able to take. Perhaps because of his flexibility, B.J. is one of the few men who has ever defeated Matt Hughes. Hughes, as I'm sure many of you know, is one of the greatest pound-for-pound martial artists in the world. Hughes is very tough, very strong, and very skilled. He was the welterweight champ for a long time, easily beating all challengers, including the original UFC superstar, Royce Gracie. Hughes was also a very successful coach on season two of The Ultimate Fighter, when his team won significantly more often than the opposition (coached by Rich Franklin). But B.J. Penn has beaten Hughes (although Hughes got his revenge in the rematch, taking Penn out in the third round).

I know Jens Pulver from Sam Sheridan's excellent book, A Fighter's Heart. Jens trains under Pat Miletich in Iowa. Sheridan related an anecdote told to him by another fighter about his first day training at the Miletich gym. The guy said that he had a lot of anger and just liked to fight. He used to get into fights in bars almost every weekend, often against men taller and heavier than himself. He never lost. Then he started training in MMA with Miletich and was told that he would be a lightweight and only fight against guys his own size. He thought, heck, that's easy. I'll be the best guy here from day one.

Then he met Jens Pulver.

I now learn from the show that Jens and B.J. have fought once, and Pulver won in an upset. They're slated to fight again at the end of this season. Penn will be heavily favored once more.

Pulver wears his baseball cap slanted to the side. I'm going to try not to hold that against him.

We go to commercials as the coaches are beginning to pick teams. Penn has just asked anyone who doesn't want anything to do with Jens Pulver's team to raise their hand. I wouldn't raise mine, but I think some people are going to raise theirs.

The commercials show how far the UFC has come. When I started watching The Ultimate Fighter in season two, it seemed like no one wanted to advertise on the show. The UFC had to pay for a lot of the ads itself: most of the commercials were for UFC pay-per-views and UFC supplements (Xyience). But now they've got big-time advertisers. This first break includes commercials for Burger King, the new Quentin Tarantino movie, and the new Halle Berry-Bruce Willis flick.

We're back from commercial. They replay Penn saying, “If anyone knows, for a complete fact, that they want to be on my team and give 100% and they don't want nothing to do with Jens Pulver's team, raise your hand.” Wow, it looks like three-fourths of the guys in the room raised their hands. Jens has to feel badly. He does. You can tell from his face that he's embarrassed. B.J. counts the number of guys who raised their hands: ten, but he can only pick eight. Nonetheless, he tries to take all ten en masse. Jens says fine, I'll take the remaining guys, that's fine, I'll still beat you.

But that isn't how they're supposed to pick teams, and Dana White looks extremely annoyed, even though, as he says, “I always expect some crazy s--- from B.J.” “You get one pick,” he tells Penn. “Then you take one guy,” he says to Pulver. They keep arguing with him. “It's like f---ing anarchy in here!” says Dana, shaking his head. “Pick one guy!” he tells Penn. And that's the way it's going to be, though neither Penn nor Pulver nor the contestants like it.

Penn picks Gray Maynard first. Jens picks the tall black dude, Corey Hill. Then there's some more trash talking between the coaches, forcing Dana to tell them to “shut the f--- up!” You think NFL commish Roger Goodall talked that way to Pacman Jones at their sit-down in New York City last week? No, but he should have. That would have been sweet.

B.J. ends up with Maynard, Matt Wiman, Gabe Ruediger, Joe Lauzon, Rob Emerson, Andy Wang, Allen Berube, and Noah Thomas. Jens takes Hill, Nate Diaz, Brandon Melendez, Manny Gamburyan, Cole Miller, Brian Geraghty, Wayne Weems, and Marlon Sims. Each team takes a separate van back to the house. Corey Hill starts talking trash in the van, then continues it back at the house. For some unknown reason, he selects Gabe Ruediger as his target. He actually starts barking like a dog at Gabe. Then he circles Gabe like a shark preparing to attack. Gabe maintains eye contact, but doesn't seem to know what to say. Later, he claims he is not intimidated, but I'm not so sure.

Both coaches seem to have assembled good, well-rounded staffs. B.J. has his kick boxing coach, his grappling coach, and his brother. Jens has the boxing coach from Miletich Fighting Systems, a wrestling coach, and a jiujitsu guy. Neither of these coaches is Ken Shamrock. Remember when Shamrock, the season three coach, brought a bodybuilder as an assistant? Not surprisingly, only one of the guys on Shamrock's team won a fight that season. Jens and B.J. have each brought legitimate staffs, guys who will help the contestants get better at MMA.

B.J. got to choose the first fighter, so Jens gets to choose the first fight. He decides to pit Cole Miller, from his team, against Allen Berube from B.J.'s team. Cole is younger and taller, has a longer reach, and is more experienced. It doesn't look good for Allen, the seafood restaurant owner. Even his coach isn't too optimistic, although B.J. does his best to psych Allen up. If Cole has a weakness, it may be that he is really thin, maybe too thin. Allen should go to the body and try to break something, like one of Cole's ribs.

The fight starts. Both guys are cautious. Allen comes forward, throwing jabs from too far away to hit. That's a rookie mistake, or a nervous mistake, or both. He's just wasting energy.

Cole throws a high roundhouse kick that misses. Allen should attack now, while Cole is off-balance from the kick. But he doesn't.

A few moments later, Allen closes the gap and wraps Cole up, going for a take-down. Why? Allen trained in boxing for longer than he has trained in jiujitsu. Closing the gap was good, because Allen doesn't have a long reach and needs to fight on the inside, but once he got there he should have started throwing hooks, uppercuts, and knees.

Instead, they go to the ground, where Cole has the advantage. He almost gets Allen in a guillotine choke. B.J. is shouting “Watch the guillotine, Monstah!” (Listening to B.J. continually call Allen “Monstah” is hilarious on several levels. B.J. is Hawaiian, but he has adopted Allen's New England-accented pronunciation of “monster.” And Allen is only about five-and-a-half feet tall, 155 pounds, but he has acquired the nickname “Monstah” because the name of his restaurant is “Monstah Lobstah.” Or maybe the restaurant is really called “Monster Lobster,” but nobody knows that because of the way Allen pronounces his r's.)

Allen narrowly escapes the guillotine but moves into a position that exposes him to an arm-bar. B.J. is still shouting, but now it's “Monstah, watch the arm-bar! Watch the arm-bar, Monstah!” The arm-bar attempt fails, so Cole then tries to set a triangle choke. Allen has one hand free, in position to punish Cole with some hammer strikes to the face, but instead he just wastes his time punching ineffectually. On the ground like he is, it's impossible for Allen to put any body weight behind his attack, which is why he should use an attack that doesn't require body weight to be effective. Maybe he doesn't know about hammer strikes because he hasn't trained in karate. I think Allan has only trained in jujitsu and boxing, and neither of those styles uses hammer strikes. Whether that's the reason or not, the bottom line is that Allen never mounts any kind of effective attack with his free arm. So, of course, Cole is able to set the triangle choke perfectly, and Allen taps.

B.J. is magnanimous in defeat. “For what Monstah had, that was his 100%. If he could have given more, he would have given more.” Jens is also kind. “It was a good technical fight. That was a good start.”

No, it wasn't. Allen fought like an idiot. He wasn't good enough at the ground game to take it to the ground. He should have been avoiding being taken to the ground. Instead, he stupidly took the fight there himself, and he paid the price.

Oh, well. The New England accent was good to hear while it lasted.