Michelle Nicolini is a 32-year-old Brazilian jiu-jitsu phenom who picked up her seventh World Jiu-Jitsu Championship title on Saturday in Long Beach, California. Nicolini faced Tammi Musumeci in the women’s featherweight black belt finals, and was behind on points with one minute remaining in the match. Then, she snagged Musumeci’s left arm and pulled it across her back in a gnarly omoplata-hammerlock-thingy that reportedly dislocated Musumeci’s shoulder and elbow, and should have ended the fight.
It didn’t. Musumeci held on to the bell, and though she lost the match 13-6 she was given a standing ovation for her heart. Full results from the 2014 World Jiu-Jitsu Championships are right here. Fun fact: Nicolini is 2-0 as a strawweight MMA fighter — with both wins by first-round armbar — and recently signed with Legacy FC. Keep an eye out for her.
Michelle Nicolini is a 32-year-old Brazilian jiu-jitsu phenom who picked up her seventh World Jiu-Jitsu Championship title on Saturday in Long Beach, California. Nicolini faced Tammi Musumeci in the women’s featherweight black belt finals, and was behind on points with one minute remaining in the match. Then, she snagged Musumeci’s left arm and pulled it across her back in a gnarly omoplata-hammerlock-thingy that reportedly dislocated Musumeci’s shoulder and elbow, and should have ended the fight.
It didn’t. Musumeci held on to the bell, and though she lost the match 13-6 she was given a standing ovation for her heart. Full results from the 2014 World Jiu-Jitsu Championships are right here. Fun fact: Nicolini is 2-0 as a strawweight MMA fighter — with both wins by first-round armbar — and recently signed with Legacy FC. Keep an eye out for her.
(Hey Donald, you let me know when you’re gonna stop armbarring me like my little sister. Sound good?)
I did something terrible this morning, Potato Nation. After waking up with blood on my hands and a splitting hangover beneath an underpass I did not recognize, I was forced to stumble across five miles of snow covered wasteland, wearing only one shoe mind you, to make it home. I fired up my computer to find a video of newly crowned UFC lightweight champion Ben Henderson competing in the 7th Arizona Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu International Open awaiting my viewership. In need of a pick me up, I watched it, figuring that there was no way in hell my boy “Smooth” would be submitted by this Daniel Grippaudo sumbitch, because, let’s be honest, Henderson CANNOT be submitted. We all know the first round anaconda loss to Rocky Johnson that soils his record was made up to prevent 155-pound grapplers from committing mass suicide. There is no “Rocky Johnson.” There never was.
Anyway, after watching the video that awaits you all after the jump, I proceeded to run to the nearest elementary school, steal the microphone from the principal, and inform those listening to the morning announcements that Santa was in fact a lie. Do I feel bad about it? Surely, but the point I was trying to make is simple: give up hope. The boundaries of life are disintegrating before our very eyes. Nothing is real anymore; Santa, your parents, Jesus, none of it. If it turns out that the following video is not, as I suspect, a complete fabrication, then I hold these truths to be self-evident.
Watch at your own risk.
(Hey Donald, you let me know when you’re gonna stop armbarring me like my little sister. Sound good?)
I did something terrible this morning, Potato Nation. After waking up with blood on my hands and a splitting hangover beneath an underpass I did not recognize, I was forced to stumble across five miles of snow covered wasteland, wearing only one shoe mind you, to make it home. I fired up my computer to find a video of newly crowned UFC lightweight champion Ben Henderson competing in the 7th Arizona Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu International Open awaiting my viewership. In need of a pick me up, I watched it, figuring that there was no way in hell my boy “Smooth” would be submitted by this Daniel Grippaudo sumbitch, because, let’s be honest, Henderson CANNOT be submitted. We all know the first round anaconda loss to Rocky Johnson that soils his record was made up to prevent 155-pound grapplers from committing mass suicide. There is no “Rocky Johnson.” There never was.
Anyway, after watching the video that rests just a mere paragraph away, I proceeded to run to the nearest elementary school, steal the microphone from the principal, and inform those listening to the morning announcements that Santa was in fact a lie. Do I feel bad about it? Surely, but the point I was trying to make is simple: give up hope. The boundaries of life are disintegrating before our very eyes. Nothing is real anymore; Santa, your parents, Jesus, none of it. If it turns out that the following video is not, as I suspect, a complete fabrication, then I hold these truths to be self-evident.
