He walked with a particular expression, a confident smile
like he had just bench pressed the world.
That been there done that, you should join me next time kind of
swagger. His presence in any situation
sets the sociological tone. A world
champion Mike Mihas who exudes an advantageous charisma of the perfect friend
and dependable comrade in war. Whatever
the case may be, he rarely accepts no for an answer. (Thankfully he no longer dates) Almost a year has gone by since “Enter the
Mihas: the PACS story”. Before the next
chapter, we must first add a prequel that culturally explains the dynamic in
our combative niche throughout many shared relationships and experiences.
Mike Mihas convinced me to become a Jiu Jitsu bum after I had
already retired! That’s right, I had
quit such extremes. The day to day
fatigue, sleeping in cars, showering wherever you had access to water; this is
the lifestyle of a professional grappler who doesn’t have access to
professional level gyms. This is how we
won living in a region devoid of combative knowledge. I had lived this way for a very long time, but
after 10 years needed a better reason to continue.
Here’s how it all started.
In 2003 I was eating at a Taco Bell in Clarion PA with my
girlfriend at the time, casually discussing today’s road trip to Cook’s Forest.
To be clear, my head was still swimming
from a recent tournament I had won. The
extreme training had been paying off, my opponents were respectively destroyed.
I love the taste of war and peace. The very nature of their difference satisfies
both aspects of a dynamic Yin and Yang.
At this time I did not yet understand the nature of war. We exist within our own peace, a daily
acceptable norm; and yet mostly if we are to experience war, it is often an
instinctual choice for the chosen few.
So this girlfriend was giving me a connective look, as my mind experiences
a peripheral matrix of feedback. There
were foreign men eating two booths away, and they were speaking a language I didn’t
quite understand. One of them slowly
said “Vale Tudo” which is the Brazilian Portuguese word for “No Rules” in
reference to early MMA fighting. I
turned and asked the men if they were speaking Portuguese. I was hoping they were Brazilians who did
Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. One of the men
corrected me, and said they were Greek and followed the sport of MMA. The man who said Vale Tudo also informed me
that he trained a lot, and sometimes trained with Jimmy (James Terlecki) and
that I should come by some time and train.
This man was Mike Mihas, King of Pancrase. However, I misjudged him. He didn’t look like a fighter, and I was used
to men talking the talk and not walking the walk. Talk is cheap.
(I recently asked Mike Mihas about his memory of this
meeting. He had not started working in
the area, but was on the road for a meeting in New York when we met. After the meeting, he was going to compete in
a North American Grappling Association tournament. ) This amazes me because
this chance encounter was the start of something that wouldn’t begin for almost
10 more years.
Eight months later my steady love interest was staying at an
unofficial Sorority house in Clarion, PA near the college, and I used this
questionable relationship to get more training in. Throughout the week I wrestled with division
1 college wrestlers at the University, and afterwards would privately train one
of the coaches for future MMA fights (He ended up being undefeated). After training, I would return to the college
brothel where I was staying; excuse me, an educational Coven where I would take
a much needed shower. I would then head
to the town south of Clarion to train with a brutish MMA team called “Team
Nowhere”. They all had the most
incredible nick names such as “Short Fuse” and “Time Bomb”. The first thing I noticed about these
fighters is that they would spar at 100% wearing the tiny 4 ounce gloves at the
end of class. Seriously, who does
that? I was kind of impressed at how
badass they were, despite their overall lack of technique. One of the members I took to very
quickly. His name was Garrett (Time
Bomb), a 240 pound MMA fighter who had the ability to pick you up from almost
any position. Most grapplers require
specific positioning in order to lift someone; it didn’t matter to Time Bomb if
you were far away or not, or if the grip wasn’t ideal. You were a paper weight, and could be slammed
from shoulder level if required.
Training with them was great, and they often let me to teach various Jiu
Jitsu Techniques. On the days “Team
Nowhere” didn’t have class I would drive to New Castle, PA and train with Mike
Demko’s Wrecking Crew for two to three hours.
Every Sunday I would meet at Wrecking Crew for a semi private training
session with Tony Arvelo and Allen Seabolt where we would grapple for four
hours with no breaks. During this period
of time, it wasn’t hard to average 10-14 hours of training a week.
Unfortunately, sometimes drama attempted to ruin the perfect
evening after returning from training on the nights when I stayed in
Clarion. There was a local underground
fraternity in the area called KDR, and they were surprisingly popular. They were also well known for raping the 18
year olds after they would take their much anticipated first drink of alcohol
at a college party. Some used date rape
drugs, and yet their popularity never waned.
These Frat brothers enjoyed pulling pranks on people, and in these
moments the Dove of peace never graced me with its presence. I associated them with full bore rage;
predators are no friend of mine. One
wrong move on their part and it was going to be ON. It wasn’t long before they made a mistake. It had been a tiring week, and I had been fighting people in training for 5 hours one particular day.
This was all the MMA Sparing, Division 1 wrestling, and fast paced Jiu
Jitsu any normal athlete could handle. I
wasn’t really interested in any more action.
Then I heard a scream from the hallway.
Several of the frat boys were storming into the house wearing Gorilla
masks and their underwear, and I interrupted them just as they started to enter the
bathroom where my girlfriend was taking a shower. Several of the frats never hit the ground
before they landed at the other end of the hallway. They were unable to move before their friends
landed right on top of them. I piled the
bodies up high, but not before someone decided to charge. They were lifted high into the air by their
neck and throw back onto the pile. The walls were their therapy, knocking sense into them faster than a scared strait program. Such
a strange expression on a Gorilla mask face.
It had to be a “?”, because what the F just happened? I was ready to fight a horde within the
house, but knew that taking the fight to the backyard wouldn’t end well. However, my cell phone had phone numbers of some
of the scariest MMA fighters around.
Whatever happened tonight would be interesting. The frats ran out of the house before a
threatening phone call buzzed the house.
The president of the fraternity immediately called the girls to find out
who was throwing their members around, because that person is dead. After they told him who it was, it was at
that point the president officially gave me permission to throw their members around
any time I wanted to. This story would have
been more entertaining if I had called in “Time Bomb” and “Short Fuse”.
Nine years later, things were slowing down for the most part. I was now training at Next Level in
Austintown, and was really starting to vibe with my fellow training partner
Mike Mihas. People talked about him like
a Legend, but I tend to ignore such feedback.
Before we connected, I didn’t associate a face with the name. When we trained together for the first time a
week later, it was a unique experience.
Mike would systematically attempt to funnel people into danger; forced
steps forward, no steps back. After
several months of training together, we started a deep discussion about winning
future matches and championships. I was
admittedly burned out from competition, having competed in countless matches
for a reason that is now elusive. Mike
asked me to do one more, just one more tournament with him and that would be
it. Combative baby steps, a more easily
accepted compromise. Mike setup a time
for me to train at another gym. It was
time to prepare for war by creating an endless skirmish. In case you didn’t know, Mike Mihas is a
World Champion in Pancration; another rare distinction is that he has won many
advanced divisions in the tri-state area and fought in early MMA matches. I was already attending day and evening
classes at Next Level in Austintown, Ohio.
Would there be enough time to make it to all of the classes? Mike recommended that I attend every class.
“Alright”
Mike invited me to come to Clarion so I could visit the local gyms where
he had been training recently. What? Pure nostalgia, how could I say no? The plan was to visit Team Nowhere and a new
gym called Clarion MMA. Going back to
how Mike doesn’t accept no, he sort of works around the problem or excuse and
gives you a solution that may or may not actually sound good. That’s the problem with the training we do,
it makes for lightning fast problem solving.
Over the next two weeks time I attended four morning classes
(8-10 hours) and six evening classes at Next Level in Austintown (12 hours),
four morning classes at Clarion MMA (8 hours), and one class at Team Nowhere (2
hours). Mike was leading the
charge. Wherever we went, the instructor
at the gym would try to get us to grapple each other. Apparently they wanted a break from both of
us. Mike would refuse, “haha no we are
good, we train together all the time”.
This amount of training is exhausting, and each gym is hours
away from the next. When you train this
much you end up developing incredible amounts of comfort and timing, but little
energy to actually finish people. After
a rest period, you absolutely finish people.
Now we had completed the training agreement, an obligation
fulfilled. I followed in the footsteps
of a World Champion, with a little less Greek swagger. The unknown man who spoke of Vale Tudo I
bumped into at Taco Bell in 2003 was now sharing mat time and the adventure of
a lifetime; living the lifestyle of a Jiu Jitsu bum. Many months later, Mike called in a
“favor”. Sort of like dealing with the
(Greek) Mafia, Mike influenced me to compete with him at the PACS
tournament. That’s when we shifted to
war, and began our original story: “Enter the Mihas”
