Bob Sapp is on a “take the money and run” mode. To be more elaborate, it’s “take the money and run to the next losing fight” mode.
Prior to flying off to Gautama Buddha’s home country of India to fight in the Super Fight League last March 11, 2012, Sapp most probably already got it all figured out.
He’s got to know that no matter the result, no matter the impending ninth loss in 10 straight fights, he will go home a richer man. (And he always seemed to utterly disregard that a winner will always take home a more significant booty.)
Jeremy Botter, in his article, Bob Sapp Says He’s Been Working on His Ground Skills, but I Don’t Believe Him, played a quasi-Nostradamus and predicted that, “Bob’s going to lose another fight this weekend, this time for the Super Fight League in India. And he says he’s been training his ground game and—this is the best part of the joke—that he’s going to win the fight.”
And he (Botter) was right.
Not really a difficult bet to make and casino owners have no reason yet to be nervous when they see Botter walk in their doors. After all, even a first grader can do the math and ABC and tell that with 1-8 in his previous nine fights, Sapp was more likely to count and spell another “L” next time around.
And around came SFL and the world saw Sapp tapping out after getting taken down by a double-leg attack by James Thompson (see video), a takedown that was far from reminiscent of Frank Shamrock’s vs. Igor Zinoviev, or Tito Ortiz’s vs. Evan Tanner.
Now here’s from Botter’s buddy and Bleacher Report MMA lead writer Jonathan Snowden’s piece:
He somehow managed to tap out to the fearsome double-leg takedown. It was a new low for Sapp, who at first seemed injured, then miraculously recovered to walk out of the cage limp free.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me for the 43rd time like Sapp did? Anyone who watched this expecting a fight deserved what they got. Which was an astounding sham.
Sapp may have walked into the ring accompanied by heavy metal music (I don’t care if it’s in English or Hindi) blaring out of the speakers, but he must’ve stepped down from that ignominious performance grinning sheepishly and with Britney Spears’ “Oops!… I Did It Again” playing in his mind.
At 11-12, Sapp has been clearly sapped of any motivation to win; reduced to fighting not even just for fighting’s sake, but to cash in a guaranteed check.
The man-mountain is now nothing more than a big chunk of carcass being fed time and time again to fighters with a little more noble aspiration. The latter are circling vultures, on a glide, hovering and waiting their turn to peck at the ton of semi-animate meat conveniently lain on the canvas.
Soon, the long and winding road will reach its deadest dead end.
Soon, the fool on the ring will see the sun going down on his circus act, and there’ll be no more spinning and messing ‘round.
Soon, for his own good and everybody else’s relief—with the exception of a few, exploitative promoters.
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