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This is not an Affliction, though there is plenty of discord steaming in a bright venue filled with intricate story lines. Borrowing the bright lights Broadway approach from wrestling, the UFC, or the MMA (mixed martial arts) is making a killing and nearly swallowing countries in the process! More than just up and coming, the sport is considered "the sport" of the future, yet still somehow resembling and drawing from the ancient coliseum. Finish him! What a conundrum...
With ticket prices ranging from $75 to $600 Saturday night, big boss man, Dana White, the current president since 2001, took a 3 million dollar gate this past Saturday in Boston. Only recently legalized by the Commonwealth, the UFC and White made their first legitimate business trip to Massachusetts, warming up the chowdah-heads with an expo at Hynes Convention Center prior to the Saturday night pay-per-view event. It was a meet and greet with the fighters signing autographs and taking pictures with the fans. It all went so smooth some would call it a smash.

The night of the fight, Tom Brady was there sporting a hat similar to Tiger's with only the letters "TB" on the brim. The Dropkick Murphys were there. Big Baby received playful elbow smashes and head rubs from his mighty, Shaq Daddy Diesel, who has seen upwards of 20 UFC fight nights and was seated remotely ring-side, which is concerning on a multitude of levels...isn't Davis a new father?
James, "Light's Out" Toney, the first boxer to cross lines into the MMA was the initial personal draw (what can't be marketed!) pitted against beloved, "Captain America", Randy Couture, who incidentally is 47 years of age and reportedly a master strategist. The combatants went back and forth all week in the press, Toney claiming he would knock out the three-time former heavyweight champion and a two-time light-heavyweight champion, Couture with one mighty blow.
More than one journalistic rat nibbling for cheese stated they thought he called Couture a sissy, but it's so hard to tell in a crowd (when and if you hear!). James Toney, Captain Mumble.

This was my first venture of any kind into this type of fight club to be so intrigued! Like a lure to a fish! Three grown men at an old friend's without so much as a door charge, the fight allegedly free, though with him, who knows, being some kinda pirate of the telecommunications world himself!
My younger brother drove in from Jersey (actual home-base Arizona) and was in for the weekend. Everything seemed to fit. Stella Artois and pizza for delivery...on the house!
To experience such a spectacle as what I experienced Saturday night; all things considered! Fans in fits of frenzy. Athletes with the forms of Da Vinci. Hype and hoopla...it was fitting my first UFC event was held in Boston with so much of the hometown touch. I was learning so much and many more key terms: the guillotine choke. Dirty boxing. A back mount? Let me get my pen and paper...
Friends, who could say how many times White, with a part-time background in South Boston, or, Southie as they like to say, marketed his version of the octagon, in all it's music and pageantry, but his skill and savvy has finally paid off building an Empire estimated at over 1 billion. A fierce Sox fan, White is reportedly fascinated by how violent and crazy religion appears to be. Do you see what I see?

The complete opposite of "Light's Out" Toney, who was brutally mauled at 3:19 of round number one and didn't see a thing. There was no mystique; no toe to toe. Toney went down with a thud and finally submitted to a one arm triangle choke...but not before taking a beating...including several haymakers to the grill. The lights were out. James Toney, a renowned trash talker, never threw a single punch, or at least one of consequence and reportedly made a cool million to show up fat and get pummeled by a fired up Couture, representing the entire UFC, with a legion of fans clearly in his corner.
Last Saturday evening featured those same 15,575 lunatics looking for blood, which was present early and often, who rode a high energy wave buffered by the dramatic sounds and songs of ring announcer Bruce Buffer, who was more than a bit boisterous.
The main event featured Frankie Edgar, the lightweight champion and BJ Penn, who you may remember as the 3-foot-jump-out-of-the-pool-guy, which, IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN, IS PRETTY AMAZING! Our host at the house, a particular expert, recommended You-tube for a closer inspection.

Penn had just lost his title to Edgar this April at Yas Island, Abu Dhabi, UFC 112 and vowed to come back...better....prepared. Some of those same self-fed rats claimed the victory had been a fluke and there was no way that Edgar could do it again. Penn is, come to find out, one of the more influential and accomplished fighters in the MMA History and went a record 8 years without a single defeat...yet it was Frankie Edgar with the stick and move all Saturday night, ultimately chopping Penn down like a tree, dominating each of the 5 rounds. Picture floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee. Lawd have mercy!
The evening, fittingly for my ripe cherry, featured a slew of the hometown spice and flavor. A feeling much like the place where everyone knows your name.
Where does one sign on the dotted line to jump on the bandwagon? Completely caught up in a whirlwind of nostalgia, I was at a loss for information and sought it from both my dear companions. This process was informative but hurried and rushed. In addition, ancient stories were re-told among old friends going three decades back incited riotous giggles and further gory details. Better yet, the pizzas were on the way, confirmed online.
It was time for the next fight. The host, forever utilizing "the last channel button", flipped on the Sox, who incidentally blew another lead only to lose in extra innings to the Rays effectively saying goodnight on the season, in between fights, which were numerous numbering about 8 or 9 (the unemotionally-attached may justifiably claim, at least this season, the Sox have overachieved but there is still disappointment...).
Back at the ranch at the precise time, in the excitement of the actual pizza delivery, the host needed help with the remote and was put on a probationary "watch". No more commercials...let it be advertised! We demand continuous updates updates.

Where would I begin? These gladiator style matches featured strategy and counter-attacks. All the warriors took it with relish on the chin, the abdomen, and everywhere except the eyes. There is no gouging but there is fancy strikes to the thigh. It wouldn't be worth it for anyone less skilled to try...these boys are no joke...you could lose more than an eye! Then there were a few pitiful punching bag scenarios, with a guy completely teeing off that turned me off. Left with nothing but distaste like the second time for meatballs as I thought, who needs to see that! And yet I came back for more...there was still pizza left.
The evening's hometown hero and Dover native, Kenny Florian, could never quite mount an attack against the burly Gray Maynard, who remains undefeated and set up for a shot at the title. Florian admitted he was disappointed with the lack of performance but does not appear discouraged.
"I need to go back. Work on the ground game and the wrestling aspects and tactics. It is currently my lone weakness. Standing toe to toe, executing take downs, avoiding tap outs or the submission, I always felt within striking distance."
O really? Our particular audience didn't seem to agree. Both parties, apparent junkies, entirely knowledgeable, the host owning autograph cards of the ring girls and the cut man, thought different.
"Whaaaaaaaaaat's he doing?"
"He's getting man-handled!"
Not Bridgewater's Joe Lauzon though. In the evening's lightweight bout, he destroyed Gabe Ruediger at 2:01 of the first round, earning a sweet $60 grand for the "submission of the night", a tap out with an arm bar after horse handling Ruediger the entire one hundred and twenty one seconds.
Lauzon was beaming in response to the energy put out by the Boston faithful.
"You guys are nuts out there. Your energy took me to another level tonight."

All those in our party of three, even the ever ignorant virgin, would most certainly agree.
If you don't know, someone much like me before last Saturday, the UFC, is an all encompassing form of combat featuring multiple disciplines of martial arts and wrestling until the fighter tap out and is looking to expand territory and appeal. Next stop....Asia! Saturday night in Boston with what I witnessed seemingly didn't seem to hurt.
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