The curious case of Benjamin Button, the curious case of an amateur fighter named Mike*. (not Mihas) During a trip to Florida visiting my mother, I received a call and job offer from a company back home. I gladly accepted, and they scheduled a one month orientation for when I get back home. Throughout this orientation I was sitting next to a young man wearing Tapout and other similar MMA clothing brands, with a punk style hat cocked to the side. During every opportune time Mike would inform everyone that he was a MMA fighter, and would attempt to discuss the sport like a kid quoting the television. I’m used to people lying about actually fighting in MMA events, so for the most part ignored the dialog. He described himself as “the most technical wrestler”, because he supposedly would switch between so many different wrestling style takedowns that nobody could stop him. Interesting self description I thought. He was shaking and sweating bullets before the drug test. I messed with him about it, as he hovered over the water fountain.
Throughout our many similar conversations, he asked if he could attend a training session with me and several friends. Although Mike did well, he was like training with a crazy chimpanzee due to his wild and sporadic movements. Around this time, Mike told me that he had just signed for a fight with “King Of The Cage”, and asked if I would train him for this event. I accepted.
Mike claimed to be a professional fighter, but his 50/50 record was not considered Professional once verified online. He had lost three of his fights by getting caught in triangle chokes, and then dynamically slamming his opponent before submitting to them. He had originally told me that he was 7-3, and now it was looking like 2-3 Amateur. Mike didn’t have a car or a license, so I would pick him up at his friend’s house and drive him to a training location. I called in favors at Army Armories, the YMCA, and group exercise facilities to get some mat time. It began to feel like spoon feeding. Our every day training session consisted of jiu jitsu transitions and guard passes for MMA, wrestling for MMA, and striking angles feeding into takedowns for MMA. He really only used one wrestling setup, one type of takedown, and one wrestler’s ride technique. Not sure what he meant anymore about being the most technical wrestler. He followed instructions like a robot, a quality I didn’t mind at this level of the game. We were getting somewhere. After two months, we were finally getting to where we needed to be; the pressure was on.
His game plan was to strike, step to an off angle, use a short combination, threaten the takedown, hit another combination in front of the cage, and re-enter the takedown. Ride or pass, pound and finish. Rather simple and well practiced. Good for an aggressive wrestler, and he was executing it well despite a very basic array of weapons; he was a natural. Have to keep this one calm, he’s likely to blow up and lose it. I used several different methods to help him control his mental frame despite the environment.
Now we are in the Green Room at the King Of The Cage event, surrounded by several well known fighters and MMA school owners from Ohio. I’m keeping Mike calm. His friends rush over and scream in his ear, “you need to destroy this guy’s face or else they won’t let you fight again”, “think about your record”, “you need to fight to the death, punch this guy in the face!” I was very pissed, and suspected they ruined what we had worked for all this time. Never mind. Just before we enter the cage, Mike’s brother yells some muffled instruction about touching gloves. Not sure what he said exactly. The referee steps between the two fighters, and just as he steps back they meet to touch gloves. Right off the touching of the gloves, Mike hits his opponent with his other hand. Hard. The injured fighter staggers back, and Mike swarms him for the Technical Knock Out. The crowd erupts with boos, Mike has climbed up the cage and is show boating for the crowd. I’m embarrassed, and tell myself this would be my last interaction with this young fighter. As we walk back to the Green room, several members of the audience invite Mike to fight them as the entire audience boos him out of the cage. They exchange words, and it looks like another fight is about to happen. Mike motions several different profane things to the crowd like an explicit pro wrestler. I pick up Mike and carry him away like a toddler throwing a tantrum, right back up the strange narrow catwalk where this apparently all started. He is lucky I didn’t drop him for the vultures. The event promoter came back to the Green room (furious) and told Mike if he has one more outburst with the crowd, that he will be banned from fighting in Ohio. Well there was one more outburst with the crowd.
A few minutes later I walked back out into the arena and start talking to a good friend of mine who is an undefeated professional fighter. He looks at me and shakes his head, “man that was so cheap, what was that kid thinking?”
I really don’t have any idea.
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