As a long time admirer of Nick Diaz, I am not surprised at his positive drug test.Dana White, however, is “beyond disappointed” at the positive results.Yes, Mr White, I do believe that you are most definitely beyond disappointed. I believe that you, Si…
As a long time admirer of Nick Diaz, I am not surprised at his positive drug test.
Dana White, however, is “beyond disappointed” at the positive results.
Yes, Mr White, I do believe that you are most definitely beyond disappointed. I believe that you, Sir, are responsible for the failed drug test.
Oh, no, Mr White! I am sure that you did not supply Nick with the weed. nor do I think you asked Joe Rogan to share his personal supply with Nick. I do, however, believe you drove him right to his usage of the mind numbing affect of marijuana to counteract all the nervousness his participation in you required dog and pony show produced in him.
Seeing you behind the podium stating that you know who Nick Diaz is and would not ever try to change him was just another one of many false statements you have made in public.
After chastising Nick for failing to honor his contract and absenting himself from the press conferences with Georges St-Pierre, you fired him.
Fortunately for you, Mr White, Nick forgave you and fought BJ Penn, a friend of his, on the main card when Georges St-Pierre was unable to meet his obligations due to an untimely injury.
Presumably, the numbers from that event were high enough that you decided to throw Nick a bone and allow him to fight with Georges, but fate stepped in and Georges stepped out with a torn ACL. But wait, what an opportunity to make even bigger bucks on an interim WW challenge using Nick Diaz to fight the other contender, Carlos Condit, in another main event.
Of course, knowing Nick Diaz as well as you have professed to, you realized that Press Conferences are an anathema to him and avoided at all costs. So your next move. . . requiring Nick to be present at numerous interviews and pre-fight events, which would drive most people to a state of nervous breakdown.
Nick complied. He even was polite enough to let the public into his psyche and the reason he so hates the media.
How ludicrous it was then, as an observer like me, to witness the press asking inane questions such as: “Why did you say that you have to hate the fight. . .” among other equally offensive questions?
What could Nick say? He had answered a primary question and now was being asked to explain it. Well, duh! Why does anyone say anything to the press when it is going to be repeatedly asked and picked relentlessly apart by countless interviewers.
Big clue to the media: Nick said what he meant! Period! Get off his back!
Well, Dana continued to trot Nick out, force him to be in close proximity to the foe he would soon fight, and even acknowledged that when Nick said the press conferences and media interaction takes away from a fighter’s endurance.
With Nick’s endurance worn thin, surprise, surprise—he turned to the medicinal use of a drug he has a prescription for…in California.
From Joe Rogan’s typical over the edge performance, he appeared to have partaken as well. Another drug issue that has annoyed the UFC president.
So Dana may say he is beyond disappointed, but I ask, is Dana beyond responsible for Nick turning to the drug?
There was a time when I so adored Georges St-Pierre, that I could write of nothing else.To me, The UFC meant GSP—and that became the focus of my whole life. I watched all the events, of course, but I was always hoping to catch a glimpse of G…
There was a time when I so adored Georges St-Pierre, that I could write of nothing else.
To me, The UFC meant GSP—and that became the focus of my whole life. I watched all the events, of course, but I was always hoping to catch a glimpse of Georges sitting in the audience, clowning with an orange slice or stepping into the cage to announce whether or not he was impressed with a fighter’s performance.
As long as I had some hope of seeing Georges, I was content—no matter where the event was held—no matter who might be fighting—no matter what the outcome.
Watching all of the TUF series that Georges appeared in became a passion for me: I practically memorized them.
Obviously, when Georges agreed to coach opposite Josh Koscheck, I was primed for an unmatchable experience. Boy did I enjoy each episode to the max.
That naughty Josh angered me each time he plotted a new way to prank my idol. He was such a jerk that I flashed back to the seventh and eighth grade angst I had barely survived.
Why are boys that age such jerks?
Well, Josh took me back into the corners of my mind that were best left forgotten; my hero worship and dedication to Georges simply became more deeply ingrained than ever.
When one of Josh’s coaches made the statement that anyone who spent an hour with Josh Koscheck would fall in love with him, I not only scoffed—I made mock of him to anyone who would listen or read my articles on the subject.
That is the very idea.
Then finally, the date of the fight arrived. My whole family was stoked. Not just for the fight that was a given, but as the saying goes: “If mama ain’t happy, then no one ain’t happy.”
The opposite is equally true.
So, all were gathered in great harmony and anticipation for another notch to be added to the Georges’ WW belt.
Anyone who recalls the fight remembers the grueling jab fest that won the contest for Georges, and destroyed the right orbital bone of Josh Koscheck’s face.
How could anyone possibly forget—what with horror pictures of the damage circulating all over the Web?
As many of those watching, I was very convinced that the pain must have been unimaginable for Josh to bear —yet he kept on fighting.
How?
The initial injury occurred in the beginning of the very first round, even a fool could tell when it happened.
The fight progressed and every minute of my life where I experienced actual visceral pain came back to haunt me. Surgeries, injuries requiring trips to the emergency room and stitches, a light bulb exploding, sending shards of glass into my eye—all came back in a rush.
Yet as Josh continued to try in vain to fight back, swinging hopefully in the vicinity of where he thought that Georges must be—a new feeling entered my being.
Georges is such a stellar fighter, he can determine where and how a fight takes place.
Why I wondered?
Did he not have mercy on Josh and quit peppering that same spot with sharp jabs?
Georges surely could have taken the blinded Koscheck down, submitted him and put him out of his misery.
Why, Georges?
Why keep working that one-ruined spot?
Did you intend to force Josh out of fighting altogether?
Why?
Winning a fight is important to anyone, I know, but at such a dear cost as the loss of vision for one warrior?
Well, it did not take an hour of sitting down with Josh Koscheck to make me fall in love with him. The five rounds he went with Georges did it and even more. After the fight I hated Georges St-Pierre.
My whole family thought I had had another stroke or gone nuts. No one believed me—at first.
But as days and weeks went on, when I offered to give away my Brian Fox limited edition painting No. 33—it finally sank in for them.
Grandma Dee had changed allegiance from GSP to Josh Koscheck.
Truly, I was astounded at Josh’s pure strength and unlimited courage.
How on earth did he go five rounds with so much damage, limited vision and not throw in the towel or refuse to answer the bell?
Now this is the stuff that makes a real hero.
Georges could have changed his game plan and ended the fight early with Josh at such a disadvantage—but he didn’t.
At the next fight, I actually cheered when Georges held his eye after Jake Shields hit him in the eye—and he cried out: “My eye, my eye, I can’t see!”
Ah, Karma.
How did that moment feel Georges, so near to the end of the fight with Jake?
Did it compare to the twenty-five minutes of excruciating pain that Josh underwent?
Usually, I love MMA. My husband and I buy every UFC event, but on February 4, 2012, the excitement and gaiety went out of MMA fighting for us. Particularly for me. On that Saturday night, the day before the Super Bowl, the “music” died.No, I wasn’t sin…
Usually, I love MMA. My husband and I buy every UFC event, but on February 4, 2012, the excitement and gaiety went out of MMA fighting for us. Particularly for me. On that Saturday night, the day before the Super Bowl, the “music” died.
No, I wasn’t singing, “Bye, Bye, Miss American Pie.” I was screaming at Carlos Condit, “you said you are “the Natural Born Killer,” because you love to fight! Stand still and fight, damn it! You said you would fight anyone, anytime, anywhere; you said you would fight Nick Diaz for no money at all!”
“What on earth are you doing? This is not fighting!”
My yelling and cursing sent our 125-pound Akita female Misty into my husband’s arms for protection from my ensuing meltdown. He comforted her, but became enraged himself when the decision was announced.
“That was it?” he asked. “I thought you said these guys were fighters. Why didn’t that killer guy fight?”
As I had seen Condit’s other fights, I was completely flummoxed. What had happened to his killer instinct? Where was that fire that burned within him and caused him to become a UFC fighter?
What a cruel joke!
Track never was an attraction I sat through, even when my sons, or later my grandson participated in it. This was not my favorite sport, was it?
Having had a six-year long fascination with Georges St-Pierre, and suffering the barbs and criticisms from his “fans” that his fights had grown boring and he only fought not to lose, I was painfully conflicted.
The loss of the famous gladiator, the old familiar theme song, the “new” look of the FOX version of UFC events and now this stunning revelation: My sport is gone!
Never will I experience the thrill of anticipation that the beginning theme song used to trigger. No longer will the event nights be special for me.
Guess golf is not really so bad to watch after all.
I have been away from B/R for quite a while, but apparently, some things never change. Since Facebook has become my only social outlet, I read most of the MMA news, and the latest lament has been, “UFC 142 looks so boring, I am not going to watch it!”W…
I have been away from B/R for quite a while, but apparently, some things never change. Since Facebook has become my only social outlet, I read most of the MMA news, and the latest lament has been, “UFC 142 looks so boring, I am not going to watch it!”
Well, folks, the joke is on you!
My husband Mel is a NASCAR fan, but finally converted to a UFC fan, largely to deal with the copious influx of MMA-related material which accumulates at our house.
Mel said that this was the best event he has viewed to date, and believe me, he has been subjected to very many events from Bellator to reruns of PRIDE.
The event tonight appealed to him largely because of the enthusiasm of the Brazilian audience and the fighters who were so inspired to be fighting in their homeland, that they risked life and limb to give back to the land of their birth.
Not at all a surprise to me, but Mel loved the fighting more than he ever has; our roles were reversed and he was giving me his blow by blow description of the action. When I dozed off briefly, he awoke me yelling, “a heel kick knockout! I’ve never seen that before! OMG! Did you see that spinning kick?”
Groggily I watched the replay in disbelief and wondered if I was having a weird dream from eating Papa John’s pizza crust dipped liberally in garlic sauce.
No, it was not a dream, but what a surprising end of the fight between Barbosa and Etim. Joe Rogan had just finished saying, “or they might get knocked out.”
When the heel kick put Etim down like a solid wooden plank on the mat. Rogan screamed, “Wow, that is the first KO by a heel kick that has ever been seen in the octagon!”
Now that was just the beginning of an amazing night of fights!
Seeing Wanderlei Silva,and Lyoto Machida in the crowd enjoying the competitions from an uncustomary viewpoint was also a treat for me. They beamed with pride in their countrymen, cheering and applauding a brilliant night of surprises.
After the quick end of Erick Silva and Carlo Prater’s match and the surprising disqualification that ensued, I was ready to be amazed again and again throughout the night.
Still, as many times as the replay was shown, I still did not see what Mario Yamasaki did. Mel thinks that one solid hit at the end was the only questionable strike that he saw.
I was still pondering the neck-shoulder connection that Prater was complaining about afterwards. How disheartening to see the brilliant finish turned into a no contest / disqualification in favor of Prater.
The good sportsmanship of Erick in saying how much he admired Mario and refused to question his decision, even as Joe Rogan was encouraging him to, was admirable. Good sportsmanship and faith in God were two other elements of UFC 142 that I sincerely appreciated seeing evidenced from beginning to end.
Rousimar Palheras and Mike Massenzio presented an interesting scenario due to “the little tree trunk” Palhares’ propensity for take downs and submissions. Since I had just told Mel that I suspected Rousimar’s short reach would cause him difficulties similar to Sean Sherk’s when he lost to BJ Penn.
Using the T-Rex as an example of the limitation the ferocious dinosaur must have had, I felt very foolish upon seeing how slick the finishing leg lock was applied. Wow! Monstrous indeed.
Dedicating the fight to his deceased partner after the fight was one of several very sentimental moments throughout the fight. Also Rousimar’s triumphant back flip put GSP’s to shame. Nice tight tuck and solid landing: a “10” for sure.
Vitor Belfort and Anthony Johnson went the way many had expected in relation to the reaction elicited from the crowd by the fighters. The Phenom drew cheers and thunderous applause as Brazil flags dotted the arena, while Rumble felt the thunderous sounds of booing and stomping.
Yes, the controversial weight cut affected Johnson and awarded 20 percent of his purse to Belfort, and it obviously incurred the wrath of the crowd.
The fight began with Johnson looking as strong and aggressive as was anticipated, yet Vitor was not to be denied the win at home. An amazing choke hold forced Anthony to tap and the crowd went wild. His future now rests in Dana White‘s unsympathetic hands.
No mention was made about the poster of Belfort’s sister that Vitor prominently displayed in the ring, which makes me wonder how cruel the people that abducted her must be. With Vitor being a national hero, how could anyone keep news of his sister’s fate from him? And why? Incomprehensible!
Another guilty pleasure for me was hearing the crowd sing / chanting for their fighters, and then when the main event was being announced, reciting Bruce Buffer’s introduction, “And now, it’s time. .. ” along with him, in spite of the language differences, was truly a classic moment in the sport for me.
Jose Aldo and Chad Mendes lived up to being a great title contention. For Mel, it was hard to believe that Chad was not actually Urijah Faber.
The similarity of their builds and body language, plus the unconventionally short hair that Urijah was sporting in support of his younger sister who required brain surgery after her Christmas time auto accident, really made him doubt me when I pointed him out in Chad’s corner.
If it weren’t for the deeply cleft chin, I might have never convinced him.
This final dramatic finish with only one second left in the first round, made the whole night a fantastic bargain on PPV in my humble opinion. Being unable to take down his opponent led to Chad’s eventual Waterloo.
As he tried to come off the cage and grab Jose’s leg, Chad dove right into a position for Aldo’s primo knee to the head, followed by three quick hits before the ref intervened. Another “reel” moment I am sure, for the champion’s highlights.
Both Gray Maynard with his warning that Mendes would be unable to take Aldo down, and Faber’s advice to Chad to avoid Aldo’s leg kicks, were valid. Much more satisfying to hear from these two experienced training partners than to hear a Steven Seagal spin on the technique.
So, a cautionary word to UFC fans who gripe about the lack of “names” on the card: Shame on you all! If any of you who called wolf caused even one fan to miss UFC 142, then you are a loser and an embarrassment to MMA fans the world over.
Don’t expect Grandma Dee to be the only one who takes you to task for this, either, so let this be a lesson to you in the future!
Surely the writers that pose such questions must be pulling this old woman’s leg! How could any true fan of the sport ever ask such a ludicrous question?Readers who do not remember the Grandma Dee articles that I used to write might doubt that I …
Surely the writers that pose such questions must be pulling this old woman’s leg! How could any true fan of the sport ever ask such a ludicrous question?
Readers who do not remember the Grandma Dee articles that I used to write might doubt that I was ever an MMA fan, but they would have to read the articles in my archives to discover how wrong that notion is.
Actually, if I had my way, I would have all political races decided in the octagon. Any fool can talk a good, or at the very least, confusing enough game that voters would elect them, but how many would duke it out to win the right to represent the USA in the Arena of Nations that is our current world?
Yet, I digress. This is more a matter of body types, height, weight, and appropriate opponents.
Georges St-Pierre should not be duped into a fight with someone he is not suited to fight just because “the fans are demanding it.” The fans have become ignorant ninnies!
When doctors fight the formidable disease known as cancer, they don’t use just any drug. To have a therapeutic effect, a drug suited to the particular cancer is necessary.
So why is it so hard for the common folks to understand what Georges, having an extensive knowledge of anatomy, physiology, and kinesiology, knows for a fact?
Georges is not built to compete against Anderson in a MMA fight. There are weight classes already in place due to the above dynamics. True, some fighters vary in height and type build, but the playing field is leveled by them being the same weight.
But, oh, the “fans” want to see it! Well tough noogies!
As mentioned, I would like for presidential candidates to win their election in a cage fight, but that doesn’t mean it is going to happen, now does it?
The word “ducking” infers a type of cowardice that GSP simply does not possess. Common sense and his knowledge of the aforementioned sciences have made it crystal clear to him that such a contest would be impractical as well as ill advised. Don’t fans have any common sense?
Is this a human version of cockfighting as some have insisted? Has our society stepped backwards into bear baiting and bloodlust? Well, if this is the case, let them have video games and bar them from ever watching an MMA event again.
MMA is not a circus consisting of sideshows and freaks; it is a serious sport with rules and consequences for ignoring them. Please, people, leave this contest alone. Georges and Anderson each are in suitable weight classes, so the question is actually moot.
As a long time admirer of Nick Diaz, I am not surprised at his positive drug test.