It's just time for a new post on here, so, how about a little brief re-telling of my weekend? Okay.........
So, three of my buddies were supposed to fight in Tampa this weekend but one opponent fell out last week and another got changed on us at the last second so it was decided that my friend whose opponent that was shouldn't fight as he was not properly prepared. But my buddy Damien's fight was on and we took out early Saturday morning. Now, Damien walks around at about 215+ and this fight was in the 185 weight class. So when he got in the car Saturday and was already sucking but said he was only at about 200 pounds, I knew we were in for some nonsense.
So we estimated arrival in Tampa at around 4pm, weigh-ins at 5pm, fifteen pounds to go. Nothing to do but roll up the windows and crank up the heat; it's hot-box time. I was wearing thin shorts and a t-shirt and was getting smoked. Damien was wrapped up in a sauna suit and two layers of sweats!! He was profusely diaphoretic in moments. Long story short, about 450 miles and a very smelly car later Damien was 187 pounds. We got to the hotel and he hit the exercycle and then back down to the car for more heat. When he stepped onto the scale to weigh in, he looked like a skeleton. He could barely walk and was quite actually terrifying to see. But he made weight.
Got him up to the room and stuck him. He took two 1-liter bags in under fifteen minutes. Folks, that's scary. I was monitoring his vitals like mad. Two-and-a-half hours and four (FUCKING FOUR!!!!) 1-liter bags later, he was 210 pounds and carefully watching football while eating some salmon. Just another day.
My friends are freaks of nature.
So that night, I'm sleeping on the floor covered in poison ivy (camping last week), Coop on one bed fighting bronchitis, Damien is out like a light, and Brandon comes wandering in at 3am drunk as fuck and pukes on the floor between the two beds. WTF!!!
Hang out Sunday, get breakfast, take a nap, get ready to leave and head to the venue. Oh great, Damien is now the main event. All that means is we have to sit there and wait all night for him to kill his guy. Nothing more.
Hang out, wrap hands, meet new people, make new friends. It was an all military bout, so everyone on the card had some (at times, distant) tie to the military. Guys in uniform in the crowd, veterans everywhere, 11,000 people in the arena, some Army guys rappelled in from the rafters to kick off the event. Pretty cool actually.
Our fight comes, and nothing else to say. 40 seconds of complete badass dominance. That boy never laid a decent strike on Damien. It's over and we jump on the cage and start taking pictures with the ring girls. Easy money.
Made it back into town around 3 today and have just been unpacking and doing laundry. The poison ivy is pretty much gone, but the heat is on overdrive in the dorms here so I'm suffering regardless.
This weekend, Ft Knox combatives tournament. We will take the title. Count on it.
So, three of my buddies were supposed to fight in Tampa this weekend but one opponent fell out last week and another got changed on us at the last second so it was decided that my friend whose opponent that was shouldn't fight as he was not properly prepared. But my buddy Damien's fight was on and we took out early Saturday morning. Now, Damien walks around at about 215+ and this fight was in the 185 weight class. So when he got in the car Saturday and was already sucking but said he was only at about 200 pounds, I knew we were in for some nonsense.
So we estimated arrival in Tampa at around 4pm, weigh-ins at 5pm, fifteen pounds to go. Nothing to do but roll up the windows and crank up the heat; it's hot-box time. I was wearing thin shorts and a t-shirt and was getting smoked. Damien was wrapped up in a sauna suit and two layers of sweats!! He was profusely diaphoretic in moments. Long story short, about 450 miles and a very smelly car later Damien was 187 pounds. We got to the hotel and he hit the exercycle and then back down to the car for more heat. When he stepped onto the scale to weigh in, he looked like a skeleton. He could barely walk and was quite actually terrifying to see. But he made weight.
Got him up to the room and stuck him. He took two 1-liter bags in under fifteen minutes. Folks, that's scary. I was monitoring his vitals like mad. Two-and-a-half hours and four (FUCKING FOUR!!!!) 1-liter bags later, he was 210 pounds and carefully watching football while eating some salmon. Just another day.
My friends are freaks of nature.
So that night, I'm sleeping on the floor covered in poison ivy (camping last week), Coop on one bed fighting bronchitis, Damien is out like a light, and Brandon comes wandering in at 3am drunk as fuck and pukes on the floor between the two beds. WTF!!!
Hang out Sunday, get breakfast, take a nap, get ready to leave and head to the venue. Oh great, Damien is now the main event. All that means is we have to sit there and wait all night for him to kill his guy. Nothing more.
Hang out, wrap hands, meet new people, make new friends. It was an all military bout, so everyone on the card had some (at times, distant) tie to the military. Guys in uniform in the crowd, veterans everywhere, 11,000 people in the arena, some Army guys rappelled in from the rafters to kick off the event. Pretty cool actually.
Our fight comes, and nothing else to say. 40 seconds of complete badass dominance. That boy never laid a decent strike on Damien. It's over and we jump on the cage and start taking pictures with the ring girls. Easy money.
Made it back into town around 3 today and have just been unpacking and doing laundry. The poison ivy is pretty much gone, but the heat is on overdrive in the dorms here so I'm suffering regardless.
This weekend, Ft Knox combatives tournament. We will take the title. Count on it.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
cavalryguy:
oh yeah...i point cutoff on the 15th.....so dec 1 is sgt maddox time.
blackberrie:
damn dude update.