Ultimate Fighter Finale cards weren’t always so garbage-ass. On December 5th, 2009 — four years ago today — the TUF 10 Finale went down in Las Vegas, with a lineup featuring Jon Jones (before he became light-heavyweight champion), Frankie Edgar (before he became lightweight champion), Kimbo Slice (who was one of the most popular figures in the sport at the time), as well as Roy Nelson, Brendan Schaub, and Matt Mitrione. Today, a UFC card with those names would be sold as a pay-per-view, and it would probably do pretty damn well*. In 2009, this was just another free show on Spike TV, a cable channel that everybody knew how to find. Damn…we just didn’t know how good we had it back then.
Maybe you remember Nelson’s nasty one-shot KO of Schaub at the event, and maybe you remember the 15-minute wheezefest that was Kimbo vs. Houston Alexander. But the reason that the TUF 10 Finale remains infamous four years later is because of a bullshit little rule known as “no 12-to-6 elbows,” which may very well be the most arbitrary and baseless rule in MMA history. Essentially, MMA fighters are allowed to crack each other’s skulls wide open with their ‘bows, either standing or on the ground, but if your elbow is moving vertically downward, you might as well be a villain in a Jean-Claude Van Damme movie. My goodness, somebody could actually get injured with those things.
Jon Jones, who was 22 years old at the time, had earned a prime spot on the TUF 10 Finale main card thanks to his 3-0 run in the UFC light-heavyweight division, which included a hilariouslymadcap decision win against Stephan Bonnar, and a second-round submission of fan-unfavorite Jake O’Brien. This was the pre-backlash Jon Jones, a guy who was universally beloved for his dynamic wrestling ability and his improvisational striking, which he picked up (as the legend goes) from watching YouTube videos. Matt Hamill was supposed to be just another stepping-stone in Jones’s quick rise to the top — a recognizable TUF-guy for him to squash. And that’s exactly what happened, even though Hamill wound up winning the fight on a technicality.
Ultimate Fighter Finale cards weren’t always so garbage-ass. On December 5th, 2009 — four years ago today — the TUF 10 Finale went down in Las Vegas, with a lineup featuring Jon Jones (before he became light-heavyweight champion), Frankie Edgar (before he became lightweight champion), Kimbo Slice (who was one of the most popular figures in the sport at the time), as well as Roy Nelson, Brendan Schaub, and Matt Mitrione. Today, a UFC card with those names would be sold as a pay-per-view, and it would probably do pretty damn well*. In 2009, this was just another free show on Spike TV, a cable channel that everybody knew how to find. Damn…we just didn’t know how good we had it back then.
Maybe you remember Nelson’s nasty one-shot KO of Schaub at the event, and maybe you remember the 15-minute wheezefest that was Kimbo vs. Houston Alexander. But the reason that the TUF 10 Finale remains infamous four years later is because of a bullshit little rule known as “no 12-to-6 elbows,” which may very well be the most arbitrary and baseless rule in MMA history. Essentially, MMA fighters are allowed to crack each other’s skulls wide open with their ‘bows, either standing or on the ground, but if your elbow is moving vertically downward, you might as well be a villain in a Jean-Claude Van Damme movie. My goodness, somebody could actually get injured with those things.
Jon Jones, who was 22 years old at the time, had earned a prime spot on the TUF 10 Finale main card thanks to his 3-0 run in the UFC light-heavyweight division, which included a hilariouslymadcap decision win against Stephan Bonnar, and a second-round submission of fan-unfavorite Jake O’Brien. This was the pre-backlash Jon Jones, a guy who was universally beloved for his dynamic wrestling ability and his improvisational striking, which he picked up (as the legend goes) from watching YouTube videos. Matt Hamill was supposed to be just another stepping-stone in Jones’s quick rise to the top — a recognizable TUF-guy for him to squash. And that’s exactly what happened, even though Hamill wound up winning the fight on a technicality.
For four minutes, Jones out-struck, out-worked, and out-shined Hamill, at one point rag-dolling him to the mat in the slickest foot-sweep takedown outside of a Lyoto Machida fight. From there, Bones engaged the Finishing Sequence, launching punches and elbows at his near-helpless opponent. The fight was effectively over by then, but Hamill continued to defend himself, desperately covering his face with his arms. Slightly frustrated, Jones tried a different angle, blasting his elbows straight down into Hamill’s face. It was then that Steve Mazzagatti jumped in — but it wasn’t to award Jones the TKO victory.
Noticing that Jones had begun throwing the dreaded 12-to-6 elbows, Mazzagatti paused the action and pulled Jones off of Hamill, who made no attempt to get off his back. (As we later learned, Hamill suffered a broken shoulder when he was tossed to the mat.) Mazzagatti asked Hamill if he could continue. Hamill, who has been deaf since birth and was momentarily blinded by his own blood, was unresponsive. Instead of bringing in a doctor and sign-language interpreter to clear Hamill’s vision and communicate with him, Mazzagatti immediately stopped the fight, and handed Jones a loss by disqualification.
Jones’s attempt to appeal the loss was shot down, as these things usually are. Luckily, the shoddy enforcement of a shoddy rule didn’t slow down his momentum. The UFC moved forward with Jones’s career like the “loss” never happened, building him up in main-event fights on their UFC on Versus series — where he smashed Brandon Vera and Vladimir Matyushenko, both in the first round, both with legal elbows. Jones has been a pay-per-view poster boy ever since.
If not for Jon Jones’s disqualification loss at the TUF 10 Finale, he’d be 20-0 overall and 14-0 in the UFC — an unbeaten run that would give him the second-longest win streak in UFC history, behind only Anderson Silva (16). Instead, he’s riding a 10-fight win streak and is still stuck in 3rd place behind Georges St. Pierre (12). But keep in mind that Jones is still only 26 years old and has only been fighting professionally since April 2008. Seven more wins? As long as he doesn’t jinx himself, that’s totally doable.
* Jones’s last PPV outing didn’t exactly blow the doors off, but Kimbo Slice could probably outdraw half of the UFC’s champions to this day.
You may have already read the depressing accounts of “McDojo”-type martial arts schools written by our own Brian J. D’Souza and Seth Falvo, but here’s some visual proof that the culture of bullshit, bastardized karate/kung fu/whatever is alive and kicking (no pun intended), and still being swallowed up by gullible cult-members.
The above video shows a 5th-degree black belt test held by the World Martial Arts Association, based in Brooklyn, New York. Forget the fact that all these guys move like hyperactive yellow belts, and would all be smashed by anybody with four months of actual striking or grappling training — they’re grandmasters, every last one. Be sure to watch to the end to see a woefully out-of-sync kata demonstration, in which grown-ass men all try desperately to be the first one to finish. IT’S NOT A RACE, TIMMY.
After the jump, “headmaster” Michael T. Dealy freestyles against three attackers. You have never seen so many kicks blocked with forearms in your entire life. Lots more here.
You may have already read the depressing accounts of “McDojo”-type martial arts schools written by our own Brian J. D’Souza and Seth Falvo, but here’s some visual proof that the culture of bullshit, bastardized karate/kung fu/whatever is alive and kicking (no pun intended), and still being swallowed up by gullible cult-members.
The above video shows a 5th-degree black belt test held by the World Martial Arts Association, based in Brooklyn, New York. Forget the fact that all these guys move like hyperactive yellow belts, and would all be smashed by anybody with four months of actual striking or grappling training — they’re grandmasters, every last one. Be sure to watch to the end to see a woefully out-of-sync kata demonstration, in which grown-ass men all try desperately to be the first one to finish. IT’S NOT A RACE, TIMMY.
After the jump, “headmaster” Michael T. Dealy freestyles against three attackers. You have never seen so many kicks blocked with forearms in your entire life. Lots more here.
A revolution is something that changes the system in a radical way. It’s an advancement that brings new ideas to the forefront. In many ways, this was what UFC 1 was. Organized by Rorian Gracie, Art Davie, and Bob Meyrowitz of Semaphore Entertainment Group, martial artists from a variety of styles were called upon to prove the superiority of their art by entering an eight-man elimination tournament at a November 12, 1993, event hosted in Denver, Colorado.
Many MMA fans know about the legend of Royce Gracie defeating professional boxer Art Jimmerson, Pancrase fighter Ken Shamrock and Savate champion Gerard Gordeau in one night to be crowned the first ever UFC tournament champion. But now, nearly 20 years after that historic event occurred, how much “truth” about how to effectively train and prepare for fights has trickled down to martial artists across the globe?
Sure, there are growing numbers of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu schools and a resurgence of interest in Muay Thai or other stand-up styles suited for MMA across North America. But the same old “McDojo” styles consisting of impractical or untested methods are just as prevalent today as they were decades ago before the inception of the UFC.
I learned this for myself a couple of years ago when I was working part-time at a downtown gym. Because it was free, I checked out the “kickboxing” class that was offered. I knew the basics of boxing, and had done some Muay Thai before, so I figured I’d at least get a good workout. I didn’t bank on discovering that the McDojo mentality was still alive, even well into the heyday of the UFC’s dominance in Canada.
The class itself was basic Taekwondo repackaged as kickboxing. Some unorthodox TKD kicks can be effective, as various MMA fighters have demonstrated over the years. That still doesn’t compensate for a lack of footwork, defensive drills, or other deficiencies inherent in this variation of kickboxing.
The stone in my shoe that started with irritation and eventually became unbearable over time wasn’t the lack of useful techniques taught, but the tall tales that the instructor told. In one of his stories, a disrespectful jiu-jitsu practitioner (identified by his T-shirt) stepped to him at a bar; he responded by thumbing the BJJ guy in the eye, bragging to his students “Sometimes you have to fight dirty.” In another story, one of the instructor’s students — who knew nothing whatsoever about wrestling or grappling — had gone to a BJJ school, and “did well.” The student had also “almost KO’ed” another student.
Right.
(If you’ve never had the pleasure of belonging to a McDojo yourself, this is recommended viewing. Props: EnterTheDojoShow)
A revolution is something that changes the system in a radical way. It’s an advancement that brings new ideas to the forefront. In many ways, this was what UFC 1 was. Organized by Rorian Gracie, Art Davie, and Bob Meyrowitz of Semaphore Entertainment Group, martial artists from a variety of styles were called upon to prove the superiority of their art by entering an eight-man elimination tournament at a November 12, 1993, event hosted in Denver, Colorado.
Many MMA fans know about the legend of Royce Gracie defeating professional boxer Art Jimmerson, Pancrase fighter Ken Shamrock and Savate champion Gerard Gordeau in one night to be crowned the first ever UFC tournament champion. But now, nearly 20 years after that historic event occurred, how much “truth” about how to effectively train and prepare for fights has trickled down to martial artists across the globe?
Sure, there are growing numbers of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu schools and a resurgence of interest in Muay Thai or other stand-up styles suited for MMA across North America. But the same old “McDojo” styles consisting of impractical or untested methods are just as prevalent today as they were decades ago before the inception of the UFC.
I learned this for myself a couple of years ago when I was working part-time at a downtown gym. Because it was free, I checked out the “kickboxing” class that was offered. I knew the basics of boxing, and had done some Muay Thai before, so I figured I’d at least get a good workout. I didn’t bank on discovering that the McDojo mentality was still alive, even well into the heyday of the UFC’s dominance in Canada.
The class itself was basic Taekwondo repackaged as kickboxing. Some unorthodox TKD kicks can be effective, as various MMA fighters have demonstrated over the years. That still doesn’t compensate for a lack of footwork, defensive drills, or other deficiencies inherent in this variation of kickboxing.
The stone in my shoe that started with irritation and eventually became unbearable over time wasn’t the lack of useful techniques taught, but the tall tales that the instructor told. In one of his stories, a disrespectful jiu-jitsu practitioner (identified by his T-shirt) stepped to him at a bar; he responded by thumbing the BJJ guy in the eye, bragging to his students “Sometimes you have to fight dirty.” In another story, one of the instructor’s students — who knew nothing whatsoever about wrestling or grappling — had gone to a BJJ school, and “did well.” The student had also “almost KO’ed” another student.
Right.
The instructor had a strange circular-argument method he used to talk himself out of any confrontation. It’s hard to point the finger and say “You’re full of shit!” when the person you’re talking to is agreeing with your points while simultaneously overlaying their own (warped) parallel reality to the discussion.
For whatever reason, the instructor decided to allow sparring during the summer months. Things seemed to improve now that the group had more leeway with how to apply their skills. I still had to teach myself via video instructionals and doing my own extra work, but the ideas I brought to the sparring sessions seemed to divide the group rather than building camaraderie.
The instructor was pushing 40 and never participated in training or sparring, so I figured that if I bested his top/favored student, Mark, I would win the group over to some of my ideas. Mark and I were of equal weight, height and strength, so it would be an accurate way to measure whose ideas about training were superior.
Mark agreed to a sparring session before the start of the kickboxing class. From the very first punch to the last, I used my jab to control Mark. Better footwork allowed me to get out of the way of incoming shots; by catching his snap kicks, I rendered them useless and set myself up for good counters.
While we went at it with full speed, I did not do anything cheap or dangerous. I just wanted to connect enough with shots to demonstrate the benefits of Muay Thai and boxing. Surely I had done enough to break down the mental defenses that made this guy cling to archaic training methods?
My answer came at the end of the same kickboxing class when a girl asked Mark how long he had been training for. He told her “12 years, in various forms.” This included Jeet Kune Do, knife fighting, Taekwondo — Mark even claimed that he’d wrestled throughout high school. All the same, Mark made sure never to spar with me ever again.
Looking back, Mark was none of the things he claimed to be; he was just someone who wanted to call himself a black belt because it helped regulate his fragile self-esteem. The instructor was only too happy to run his students through a class that was no more intense than 60-70 minutes of light aerobics; this way, he never had any competition.
I bit the bullet, took out a loan, and went back to my old Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu school. It wasn’t perfect — the cost was huge, training took more commitment, and repetitive stress injuries mounted. On the plus side, there was never any confusion over which techniques worked or didn’t work. People never made up stories about how good they were, either: They were only too happy to demonstrate their skills time and time again.
Because I still worked part-time at the gym, my friends and the gym’s members from the kickboxing class often asked why I stopped coming. I never had the heart to tell them the truth, “Your instructor is a liar and the things he teaches you to do won’t work in a real fight.”
With some space and distance, I recognized a different truth: There will always be different styles of martial arts that follow different methods. There are even McDojo MMA schools where the level of jiu-jitsu or striking is mediocre and most of the students never advance their skills. It isn’t a question of knowledge, because effective styles of grappling and striking (boxing, kickboxing, wrestling, judo) have existed for decades before the beginning of the UFC. It comes down to the human element — the people leading, and the ones following.
A legitimate martial arts instructor places the development of their students before their own welfare. They constantly look for ways to motivate their charges while introducing new technical skills to the mix. In turn, the students have to take advantage of what they are being offered. Showing up consistently, giving a good account of themselves, and setting higher goals in order to progress as fighters.
I can respect the fact that not everyone wants to swim in the deep end of the martial arts pool. The total body exhaustion and emotional roller-coaster that accompany hard sparring or an intense grappling session are not sensations that everyone can handle. If those experiences were even slightly easier to handle, there would be a hell of a lot more BJJ black belts or boxers/kickboxers out there.
This fall, the articles promoting the 20th anniversary of the UFC will begin to come out. People will talk about Royce Gracie, the rise of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and the elimination of martial arts myths. Perhaps we should also talk about what goes on behind the scenes in gyms and martial arts schools — the culture of false machismo, the glamour of violence, and the seduction of the naïve by a desire for quick results without pain and sacrifice.
Human nature insists that the yin and yang forces of McDojo and MMA will always exist side-by-side together. We are the ones who must choose which side to align ourselves with, which ideas to promote — and most importantly — how to live as an example of the values that we want MMA to represent to the public.
(Wandy’s Trollshades increase his AprilFoolpower by a magnitude of eleventy bazillian. / Photo via Wandy’s FB fan page)
At some point, April Fool’s Day became less about playing elaborate pranks to humiliate your loved ones, and more about just lying to people all day. Nobody puts in the effort anymore. Announcing that your girlfriend/wife is pregnant on Facebook? Yeah, that’s not funny at all. (Side note: @Karmaatemycat gets a pass for doing this yesterday, because the idea of Jefferey Watts as a father is so terrifying that it actually made me hold my face in my hands for about 20 seconds.)
The MMA fighter equivalent of announcing a fake pregnancy is announcing a fake fight or retirement. Tim Kennedy did it. John Alessio did it. Louis Gaudinot did it. The idea is, these statements are believable enough to be true. But in the grand scheme of things, does anybody really give a fuck if John Alessio is coming in to replace Ryan Couture on Saturday? I hate to rag on a guy who we otherwise have so much respect for, but I’m just saying, it’s not a joke, it’s a lie, and making up lies about yourself to trick people is both uncreative and kind of egotistical. As our bro Vince puts it, “Getting me to believe something plausible but untrue is not a ‘prank.’ If that’s a prank, then man have I pranked some women and prospective employers, hoo boy.”
The biggest difference between Wanderlei’s possibly-fake fight announcement and all the others, is that Wandy actually reached out to media. He confirmed his story with MMAWeekly’s Ken Pishna. Then, he gave a rather entertaining interview to Tatame where he had this to say:
(Wandy’s Trollshades increase his AprilFoolpower by a magnitude of eleventy bazillian. / Photo via Wandy’s FB fan page)
At some point, April Fool’s Day became less about playing elaborate pranks to humiliate your loved ones, and more about just lying to people all day. Nobody puts in the effort anymore. Announcing that your girlfriend/wife is pregnant on Facebook? Yeah, that’s not funny at all. (Side note: @Karmaatemycat gets a pass for doing this yesterday, because the idea of Jefferey Watts as a father is so terrifying that it actually made me hold my face in my hands for about 20 seconds.)
The MMA fighter equivalent of announcing a fake pregnancy is announcing a fake fight or retirement. Tim Kennedy did it. John Alessio did it. Louis Gaudinot did it. The idea is, these statements are believable enough to be true. But in the grand scheme of things, does anybody really give a fuck if John Alessio is coming in to replace Ryan Couture on Saturday? I hate to rag on a guy who we otherwise have so much respect for, but I’m just saying, it’s not a joke, it’s a lie, and making up lies about yourself to trick people is both uncreative and kind of egotistical. As our bro Vince puts it, “Getting me to believe something plausible but untrue is not a ‘prank.’ If that’s a prank, then man have I pranked some women and prospective employers, hoo boy.”
The biggest difference between Wanderlei’s possibly-fake fight announcement and all the others, is that Wandy actually reached out to media. He confirmed his story with MMAWeekly’s Ken Pishna. Then, he gave a rather entertaining interview to Tatame where he had this to say:
“I was surprised when I got a call from Joe Silva today, but what others see as adversity I see as opportunity. I’m ready and I’m actually closing my suitcase right now. My flight to Sweden departs tomorrow morning. I’m going to my gym tonight to hit some pads and tomorrow I’ll fly out to Sweden. I’m bringing Rafael Cordeiro, and maybe Fabrício Werdum with me. You know it was in the last minute.”
“I’m weighting 222,6 pounds and I’m already losing weight. I’ll work out tonight, but it will be easy to get down to 205. I’ve been doing this for the last 20 years, I’m used to it. I’m bumped, and don’t worry guys because this is not an April 1st fool. You can celebrate because daddy is in the house again.” [Ed. note: Awesome.]
“There are some crazy things that just Silva does. My last fight against (Brian) Stann was pretty tough, but I did very well. Can you imagine if I do it again? They will give me a crown down there. I have nothing to lose. Mousasi is a tough guy, he is great, and is the perfect profile for me. I don’t run away from good fights and I know that I’ll test myself to the extreme.”
For his part, Gegard Mousasi has been patient through this entire ordeal, operating under the assumption that he’s still fighting Gustafsson unless there’s an official announcement otherwise. On his charmingly unpolished twitter page, Mousasi responded to the Axe Murderer rumors yesterday evening: “hey mr Silva, if this is true and you are ready to fight me than I accept the fight, It’s an honor for me Much respect for you…at this moment I do not have any new info about my situation But if ufc want’s and mr @wandfc is ready for me than let’s Go!”
Alright, so here’s what Wanderlei posted on Instagram at about 9:50 a.m. ET today: “I catch you wand the best April first ever!! But I would like this to be true!!!”
You catch me? No, Wandy. You lied all day, and when the clock struck midnight and it wasn’t April Fool’s Day anymore, you kept lying, and after you had your morning acai smoothie today, you figured, hey, why not let the fans down easy with a silly photo?
Alistair Overeem has plenty of haters out there. Haters saying stuff like “He’s a cheat,” or “He uses steroids,” or “All of his recent accomplishments are tainted because his entire heavyweight career is a byproduct of unnatural chemical enhancements.” Also “Leave the horses alone!”, though that’s just PETA, and they hate on everyone so they don’t really count. Well, Alistair Overeem has something to tell all the haters (except PETA) out there: he’sclean.
Alistair Overeem has plenty of haters out there. Haters saying stuff like “He’s a cheat,” or “He uses steroids,” or “All of his recent accomplishments are tainted because his entire heavyweight career is a byproduct of unnatural chemical enhancements.” Also “Leave the horses alone!”, though that’s just PETA, and they hate on everyone so they don’t really count. Well, Alistair Overeem has something to tell all the haters (except PETA) out there: he’sclean.
But despite these facts, not to mention Overeem’s sterling reputation, some people out there still dare to doubt his claims. They say things like because his drug test was “self-administered,” it somehow devalues the authenticity of the results. That because he got to choose the time his test took place, where it was taken, the methods used, and the doctors who did it, Overeem has circumvented every single qualification that makes a drug test a test. I’m sorry, but that’s just nonsense! I’m not sure how we got to be so cynical, but there’s no reason not to take an athlete at his word when he says he’s never done performance enhancing drugs.
So next time, think before you hate. You’re talking about a man who worked very hard to build — literally, build — himself and his career from scratch. And horse meat. And to try to taint that career through speculation, innuendo, common sense, logic, and a failed drug test is nothing short of irresponsible on your part. And once these results come back, you’ll have no choice but to admit Alistair Overeem is clean.
Before we go any further, the answer is yes. That image is a real screenshot of Bob Sapp’s MMA record on both the English version of Wikipedia and its Italian counterpart, taken around 2:30 (CT) this afternoon. Those who follow MMA already know that Bob Sapp is nothing more than a joke and a disgrace, and with Wikipedia cracking down on UFC events that aren’t important enough to deserve their own pages, it should come as little surprise that yet another effortless loss from Bob Sapp has yet to be added to his fight record.
Friday night, Bob Sapp set out to mock our sport professional sports once again in Kazakhstan against Tölegen Akylbekov. Knowing that Bob Sapp was going to put up as much of a fight as The Brooklyn Brawler, Akylbekov decided that he was going to attempt to win The Bob Sapp Challenge™. For those uninitiated, the rules are simple: Rather than defeating Bob Sapp as quickly as possible, one must force Bob Sapp to actually put up something resembling a fight for as long as possible. Sounds easy enough…until you realize you’re attempting to make a guy who has tapped out to a double-leg takedown actually put up a fight.
Before we go any further, the answer is yes. That image is a real screenshot of Bob Sapp‘s MMA record on both the English version of Wikipedia and its Italian counterpart, taken around 2:30 (CT) this afternoon. Those who follow MMA already know that Bob Sapp is nothing more than a joke and a disgrace, and with Wikipedia cracking down on UFC events that aren’t important enough to deserve their own pages, it should come as little surprise that yet another effortless loss from Bob Sapp has yet to be added to his fight record.
Friday night, Bob Sapp set out to mock our sport professional sports once again in Kazakhstan against Tölegen Akylbekov. Knowing that Bob Sapp was going to put up as much of a fight as The Brooklyn Brawler, Akylbekov decided that he was going to attempt to win The Bob Sapp Challenge™. For those uninitiated, the rules are simple: Rather than defeating Bob Sapp as quickly as possible, one must force Bob Sapp to actually put up something resembling a fight for as long as possible. Sounds easy enough…until you realize you’re attempting to make a guy who has tapped out to a double-leg takedown actually put up a fight.
Once Tölegen Akylbekov got Bob Sapp to the ground, he threw some ground-and-pound that was so light that even Bob Sapp couldn’t tap out to it. Akylbekov has the right idea by standing up and backing away, but when Sapp refuses to stand back up, the Kazakhstan fighter threw some comically slow punches that would have made a real fighter do something other than turtle up and wait for the referee to stop the fight.
But it was all for nothing. Two minutes and twelve seconds into the video, we see the inevitable tapout from Bob Sapp due to hammerfists. Immediately after the Sappmission, the referee lands the most significant blow of the fight when he tackles Tölegen Akylbekov.
Okay, the bar for The Bob Sapp Challenge™ has been set at one minute, twenty four seconds. Your move, Jong Dae Kim.
