USA: Revenge on Hook n’ Shoot …or Not Summer 20.X.2 Pt. III
I said “see ya later” to Japan and boarded a plane. It was a bit of a last minute affair; I had an internship in the United States that was approaching and I had no way to get around to the other side of the world to do it. I remedied this by borrowing some money and taking a last minute flight. The kind that leaves you with little notice; my standard. The only downside was that I would be flying on Air Canada, and I had had a falling out with them years prior. I had been treated horribly by them in the past, and if I didn’t need to get to the states so fast, and they weren’t my only option, I would have rather hitched a ride on a ship (or been punched in the face), anything but fund their existence. While on the plane I made sure to liberate as many blankets as possible, as the beginning of reparations.
The flight I was on took me first to Alberta, Canada for a couple days. I do like Alberta, so I didn’t mind in the least. My time there wasn’t very interesting, but there was one funny incident on the last day when I was in the airport waiting for the check-in counter to open. I was sleeping on a bench and an Indian guy sat across from me with a distraught look on his face. “Hmph.” He said, clearly wishing to be acknowledged. I did not. He finally just started talking. “Oh, I am stuck in Canada. I came for a job from India, but it has been canceled. Now I have no money and nowhere to go.” I nodded in acknowledgment. “If only I had some money, I could get by.” That sucks, I said psudosympathetically. “I only have to last a couple days, then my friends will come and I’ll be ok.” Do your best. “If only I had money…”
This guy was clearly fishing me for money; he had no idea he had picked the worst person possible. The fact I was sleeping on a bench and looked like an extra homeless 3 musketeer should have been a dead giveaway. I had only one dollar on me, and he certainly wasn’t going to get it. The guy was clearly soft, used to a cush lifestyle. I suggested he stay the 2 days at a homeless shelter. “Oh, I am so hungry!” Well, I hope you get some food. In fact, his little spiel had reminded me that I was hungry too. Indian guy went to the bathroom and I got up to go to the convenience store to see what I could get for a dollar. Indian guy came back and I was eating a huge microwavable burrito. “I’m so hungry.” That sucks; I just used my last dollar. “…” He didn’t believe me; I didn’t care. I don’t usually eat that kind of thing but I was really hungry and poor. I had diarrhea before I was even done eating it…
Indian guy left to go talk to the Indian girl running the convenience store. I saw him about 15 minutes later with food….
It was my flight time now, so I jumped on another Air Canada flight, snagged more blankets, and arrived in the Midwestern USA in no time. I spent the next day or so visiting people and squaring myself away. I stopped by the American Top Team gym and dropped of some treasure I had accumulated for them over the course of the summer, and inquired about upcoming fights. I had after all just come from heavy training in Japan and Okinawa for a couple months. I also visited my friends around the area.
One of these friends just happened to have a brother who was having a birthday, so their family was all going to the amusement park “King’s Island”, and I had been invited. I don’t pass things like that up, so off I went. Of course the day was great: The friends, the rides, the attractions, and so on. However there was one bit that really stood out: Their ice cream. Oh sure, they had regular ice cream as well, but they had a special blue ice cream native to the park. I glimpsed it first when a little kid walked by with some. It was Beautiful; I needed to have it. When I finally got some it was everything I was hoping it would be and so much more. I don’t know what it was made of, but my guess is something along the lines of ground up fairy wings and opium. And blueberries. It was incredible; even now I can feel it in my blood. I would kick a baby to get that ice cream…
After the day of action and blueberry frozen heroin treats we all retreated back to where we had come from. I had spoken to the ATT head coach and he had told me they were pursuing an opponent for me to fight, and would let me know.
Letting me know turned out to be 4 days before the event. Good thing I was in Shape. The event was the “Hook n’ Shoot”, this time held in Kentucky. Perfect. Last time I tried to fight in that event my fight was cancelled. Time for revenge. The next day after I got the notice I was fighting, my opponent was changed. Supposedly this guy was a top notch grappler, though I wasn’t worried. He was supposed to be the same height and weight as myself. In fact, I had lost so much weight from Okinawa and Japan I didn’t even need to cut weight to make 170lbs… Perhaps I should drop down a weight class (155lbs)?
My gym mates scheduled to fight that night were Coop, Lloyd, and Flan. After the weigh-ins we all feasted at a steak house and went out to see “The Expendables 2”. The next morning the coach and our group all carpooled down to Kentucky for the fights, stopping at Mongolian BBQ along the way.
After eating we all went straight to the fight venue. Venue, though semantically accurate, is too kind of a word. The place was straight out of the movie “Road House”. It was a huge Rodeo barn with a dirt floor, stables at the sides, and a cage for fighting set up in the center. Besides this place, it looked like this tiny Kentucky town didn’t have much else. My teammates and I wondered around for a bit, passing time until the rules meeting. During this down time I caught sight of my opponent. Once again, the person who was “the same size” as me was much larger. This guy was nicknamed “The juggernaut”. If I am a “big 170lb” fighter, then why is everyone so much larger than me!? I then spent the rest of the time strategizing how I was going to take this guy out.
The rules meeting was interesting. Kentucky plays by their own rules, the rest of the world be damned. First, the Kentucky commissioner wanted to know if we had licenses to fight in Kentucky. Of course, we said, we have our national licenses to fight in all 50 states, of which Kentucky is one. “But do you have a Kentucky license?” … national license? “Nope. You gotta pay Kentucky to fight in Kentucky. 25$ to get a Kentucky license.” We were shocked. Luckily the coach got us our licenses, otherwise a couple of us wouldn’t have been able to afford it. Even more telling of Kentucky, the licenses expire at the end of the calendar year, not 12 months after you got them. If you got one in December you’re screwed. The rest of the meeting went about the same, finding out various rules that were different than the rules with which everyone was familiar. Oh Kentucky….
As the event geared up to start we all prepared backstage. While warming up I stumbled upon Tumbleweed Snowman! That was what I had christened my opponent from the first Hook n’ Shoot, and our fight got canceled. We chatted and caught up, and I found out he had made the drop to 155lbs. I really need to give that a go. I wished him the best in his fight and went back to warming up with my team. First up to fight was Flan.
Flan is a decent normal guy who trains for fun. All he wanted was one cage fight, just for the experience. This was to be his debut, first and probably last fight. His opponent was to be making his debut as well, to make sure there would be an approximately even skill level. “There’s something familiar about your opponent.” Said our coach to Flan. We continued warming up. A few minutes later our coach dropped the bomb on us: “I remember where I know Flan’s guy from. He’s no novice, he’s a 25-0 kickboxing champion. I can’t let him fight; he’ll die.” It was decided that Flan’s MMA fight would be changed to a grappling exhibition fight of one 5 minute round. 25-0 kickboxing champion he may have been, but damn if Flan didn’t completely dominate this guy. It was nice to see him at least get something. I know too well the feeling of months of preparation and nervousness only to have a fight be canceled. All Flan wanted was to have one cage fight, and it looked like he would be waiting a bit longer (and longer still. His next fight attempt saw the fight getting canceled. Next attempt the entire event got canceled and he blew out his ACL forcing him to take months off of training. He is still waiting for his one fight…).
Next up to fight was me. The Juggernaut was already in the cage waiting. “And now, entering the cage: The wandering Warrior… Nash!” White Snake’s “Here I go again” blared across the rodeo barn as I walked out to cheers and kids wanting high fives cage side. I entered the cage and began my stare down. “GO!”
We took off. I dominated with standing techniques, and was quickly clinched up because of it. I delivered a few knees to my opponent. I got taken down. During the scramble he got top mount and managed to lock my arms so that I was defenseless against a barrage of face punches for what seemed like an eternity. Lucky for me this grappler had baby soft hands. Though I probably got punched in the head for a full minute, I received no damage. A sneeze causes me more concern. Another thing that worked out in my favor was the Kentucky referee; he would sooner have seen me die in the cage than stop the fight. This allowed me to eventually wrap my legs around my opponent and escape. He scrambled me into an armbar, I grambi rolled out of it. End of round one. I was not damaged or winded. I was in phenomenal shape, though my opponent looked to be just the opposite. Thanks to Kentucky’s obscenely long between rounds breaks, he was able to catch his breath though. With rests that long I could have fought an infinite number of rounds! Round 2 began. I dominated standing, and was positioned against the cage which neutralized my current takedown defenses and was taken down. Back against the cage, every time I made to stand I was taken down again. “Base your arm and stand!” came the directions from my corner coach. I followed them. Unfortunately it was just the split second opening my opponent needed to take my back. He maneuvered into a rear naked choke and began choking me out. I couldn’t shake it… so I stood up. I began walking around the cage, carrying this guy trying to choke me out, thinking of how best to get him off of me. I came up with 2 plans and went with the less extreme. Now knowing the outcome I won’t be doing that again. I decided I would bend backwards and slam him into the ground, like a German suplex, which should loosen him up I though. I slammed him, and all it did was tighten my own noose. I lost consciousness. Waking up I realized I was still being choked and tried to get out. Passed out again. Waking up again and realizing I was stuck, I tapped to avoid brain damage. I lost.
On top of being depressed by the loss I was very confused. I felt fine, no damage, and not tired. If I lose I like to feel like I deserved it, like I earned it. All I had done was make a strategic error… a good learning opportunity.
Before I even made it out of the cage the promoter said he would love to see a rematch. I would love one too, I said. “Any injuries?” Just my pride. “You’ll heal.” I know, I’m a quick healer. I returned to backstage to sulk. While back there Flan showed me the video he’d taken. Turns out it wasn’t as bad as I thought. I had actually pulled off some good moves, I just had a learning opportunity. I felt better but still depressed. I decided I would go out to the “Sound Booth” (Hay loft) and grab my walk out music. As I made my way through the venue I was besieged by a gaggle of children aged about 8-12 years. “Nash! Nash! Will you sign our posters?” What? “Can we have your autograph? You’re our favorite!” …why? You know I didn’t win right? “You’re the coolest! We were sure you’d win. Don’t worry; you’ll beat him next time!” …the coolest huh? “Yeah! “ Well, I can’t argue with that. I signed their posters and whatnot. “You’ll fight him again right?” If you promise to watch, I promise to fight. “Yeah!” The exchange with the children had me feeling pretty good, but then the adults came. One man said “you’re a helluva guy! Thought for sure you’d win!” Me too… A lady came by and said “Wait.. are you the guy that walked around with that guy on your back trying to choke you!? That was great! Everyone’s so surprised you lost.” No one is more surprised than me. Another lady shouted in my passing “Nice fight, love your hair!”
It turns out that in this town, this even was a big deal. They honestly had nothing else. The gratitude and general interest of the crowed were the best I had ever seen. Certainly the best crowd I had ever fought in front of. Also, adoring fans is something a guy can get used to. If only they knew my other plan besides slamming the guy backwards was to take off in a sprint, run up the cage, then flip off and slam my opponent. Maybe next time.
By the time I made it backstage again the promoter said “you look happy”. Told you I was a quick healer. The night wasn’t all that great though: Lloyd won, I lost, Coop lost, and Flan’s fight was canceled. After the event I got together with a friend who had come to watch the fights and we went off into the night. I was left to think about my loss, without even any wounds to lick. At least I did take away a couple valuable lessons.
Looks like I may need to revenge my revenge on the Hook n’ Shoot…
-Nash
The flight I was on took me first to Alberta, Canada for a couple days. I do like Alberta, so I didn’t mind in the least. My time there wasn’t very interesting, but there was one funny incident on the last day when I was in the airport waiting for the check-in counter to open. I was sleeping on a bench and an Indian guy sat across from me with a distraught look on his face. “Hmph.” He said, clearly wishing to be acknowledged. I did not. He finally just started talking. “Oh, I am stuck in Canada. I came for a job from India, but it has been canceled. Now I have no money and nowhere to go.” I nodded in acknowledgment. “If only I had some money, I could get by.” That sucks, I said psudosympathetically. “I only have to last a couple days, then my friends will come and I’ll be ok.” Do your best. “If only I had money…”
This guy was clearly fishing me for money; he had no idea he had picked the worst person possible. The fact I was sleeping on a bench and looked like an extra homeless 3 musketeer should have been a dead giveaway. I had only one dollar on me, and he certainly wasn’t going to get it. The guy was clearly soft, used to a cush lifestyle. I suggested he stay the 2 days at a homeless shelter. “Oh, I am so hungry!” Well, I hope you get some food. In fact, his little spiel had reminded me that I was hungry too. Indian guy went to the bathroom and I got up to go to the convenience store to see what I could get for a dollar. Indian guy came back and I was eating a huge microwavable burrito. “I’m so hungry.” That sucks; I just used my last dollar. “…” He didn’t believe me; I didn’t care. I don’t usually eat that kind of thing but I was really hungry and poor. I had diarrhea before I was even done eating it…
Indian guy left to go talk to the Indian girl running the convenience store. I saw him about 15 minutes later with food….
It was my flight time now, so I jumped on another Air Canada flight, snagged more blankets, and arrived in the Midwestern USA in no time. I spent the next day or so visiting people and squaring myself away. I stopped by the American Top Team gym and dropped of some treasure I had accumulated for them over the course of the summer, and inquired about upcoming fights. I had after all just come from heavy training in Japan and Okinawa for a couple months. I also visited my friends around the area.
One of these friends just happened to have a brother who was having a birthday, so their family was all going to the amusement park “King’s Island”, and I had been invited. I don’t pass things like that up, so off I went. Of course the day was great: The friends, the rides, the attractions, and so on. However there was one bit that really stood out: Their ice cream. Oh sure, they had regular ice cream as well, but they had a special blue ice cream native to the park. I glimpsed it first when a little kid walked by with some. It was Beautiful; I needed to have it. When I finally got some it was everything I was hoping it would be and so much more. I don’t know what it was made of, but my guess is something along the lines of ground up fairy wings and opium. And blueberries. It was incredible; even now I can feel it in my blood. I would kick a baby to get that ice cream…
After the day of action and blueberry frozen heroin treats we all retreated back to where we had come from. I had spoken to the ATT head coach and he had told me they were pursuing an opponent for me to fight, and would let me know.
Letting me know turned out to be 4 days before the event. Good thing I was in Shape. The event was the “Hook n’ Shoot”, this time held in Kentucky. Perfect. Last time I tried to fight in that event my fight was cancelled. Time for revenge. The next day after I got the notice I was fighting, my opponent was changed. Supposedly this guy was a top notch grappler, though I wasn’t worried. He was supposed to be the same height and weight as myself. In fact, I had lost so much weight from Okinawa and Japan I didn’t even need to cut weight to make 170lbs… Perhaps I should drop down a weight class (155lbs)?
My gym mates scheduled to fight that night were Coop, Lloyd, and Flan. After the weigh-ins we all feasted at a steak house and went out to see “The Expendables 2”. The next morning the coach and our group all carpooled down to Kentucky for the fights, stopping at Mongolian BBQ along the way.
After eating we all went straight to the fight venue. Venue, though semantically accurate, is too kind of a word. The place was straight out of the movie “Road House”. It was a huge Rodeo barn with a dirt floor, stables at the sides, and a cage for fighting set up in the center. Besides this place, it looked like this tiny Kentucky town didn’t have much else. My teammates and I wondered around for a bit, passing time until the rules meeting. During this down time I caught sight of my opponent. Once again, the person who was “the same size” as me was much larger. This guy was nicknamed “The juggernaut”. If I am a “big 170lb” fighter, then why is everyone so much larger than me!? I then spent the rest of the time strategizing how I was going to take this guy out.
The rules meeting was interesting. Kentucky plays by their own rules, the rest of the world be damned. First, the Kentucky commissioner wanted to know if we had licenses to fight in Kentucky. Of course, we said, we have our national licenses to fight in all 50 states, of which Kentucky is one. “But do you have a Kentucky license?” … national license? “Nope. You gotta pay Kentucky to fight in Kentucky. 25$ to get a Kentucky license.” We were shocked. Luckily the coach got us our licenses, otherwise a couple of us wouldn’t have been able to afford it. Even more telling of Kentucky, the licenses expire at the end of the calendar year, not 12 months after you got them. If you got one in December you’re screwed. The rest of the meeting went about the same, finding out various rules that were different than the rules with which everyone was familiar. Oh Kentucky….
As the event geared up to start we all prepared backstage. While warming up I stumbled upon Tumbleweed Snowman! That was what I had christened my opponent from the first Hook n’ Shoot, and our fight got canceled. We chatted and caught up, and I found out he had made the drop to 155lbs. I really need to give that a go. I wished him the best in his fight and went back to warming up with my team. First up to fight was Flan.
Flan is a decent normal guy who trains for fun. All he wanted was one cage fight, just for the experience. This was to be his debut, first and probably last fight. His opponent was to be making his debut as well, to make sure there would be an approximately even skill level. “There’s something familiar about your opponent.” Said our coach to Flan. We continued warming up. A few minutes later our coach dropped the bomb on us: “I remember where I know Flan’s guy from. He’s no novice, he’s a 25-0 kickboxing champion. I can’t let him fight; he’ll die.” It was decided that Flan’s MMA fight would be changed to a grappling exhibition fight of one 5 minute round. 25-0 kickboxing champion he may have been, but damn if Flan didn’t completely dominate this guy. It was nice to see him at least get something. I know too well the feeling of months of preparation and nervousness only to have a fight be canceled. All Flan wanted was to have one cage fight, and it looked like he would be waiting a bit longer (and longer still. His next fight attempt saw the fight getting canceled. Next attempt the entire event got canceled and he blew out his ACL forcing him to take months off of training. He is still waiting for his one fight…).
Next up to fight was me. The Juggernaut was already in the cage waiting. “And now, entering the cage: The wandering Warrior… Nash!” White Snake’s “Here I go again” blared across the rodeo barn as I walked out to cheers and kids wanting high fives cage side. I entered the cage and began my stare down. “GO!”
We took off. I dominated with standing techniques, and was quickly clinched up because of it. I delivered a few knees to my opponent. I got taken down. During the scramble he got top mount and managed to lock my arms so that I was defenseless against a barrage of face punches for what seemed like an eternity. Lucky for me this grappler had baby soft hands. Though I probably got punched in the head for a full minute, I received no damage. A sneeze causes me more concern. Another thing that worked out in my favor was the Kentucky referee; he would sooner have seen me die in the cage than stop the fight. This allowed me to eventually wrap my legs around my opponent and escape. He scrambled me into an armbar, I grambi rolled out of it. End of round one. I was not damaged or winded. I was in phenomenal shape, though my opponent looked to be just the opposite. Thanks to Kentucky’s obscenely long between rounds breaks, he was able to catch his breath though. With rests that long I could have fought an infinite number of rounds! Round 2 began. I dominated standing, and was positioned against the cage which neutralized my current takedown defenses and was taken down. Back against the cage, every time I made to stand I was taken down again. “Base your arm and stand!” came the directions from my corner coach. I followed them. Unfortunately it was just the split second opening my opponent needed to take my back. He maneuvered into a rear naked choke and began choking me out. I couldn’t shake it… so I stood up. I began walking around the cage, carrying this guy trying to choke me out, thinking of how best to get him off of me. I came up with 2 plans and went with the less extreme. Now knowing the outcome I won’t be doing that again. I decided I would bend backwards and slam him into the ground, like a German suplex, which should loosen him up I though. I slammed him, and all it did was tighten my own noose. I lost consciousness. Waking up I realized I was still being choked and tried to get out. Passed out again. Waking up again and realizing I was stuck, I tapped to avoid brain damage. I lost.
On top of being depressed by the loss I was very confused. I felt fine, no damage, and not tired. If I lose I like to feel like I deserved it, like I earned it. All I had done was make a strategic error… a good learning opportunity.
Before I even made it out of the cage the promoter said he would love to see a rematch. I would love one too, I said. “Any injuries?” Just my pride. “You’ll heal.” I know, I’m a quick healer. I returned to backstage to sulk. While back there Flan showed me the video he’d taken. Turns out it wasn’t as bad as I thought. I had actually pulled off some good moves, I just had a learning opportunity. I felt better but still depressed. I decided I would go out to the “Sound Booth” (Hay loft) and grab my walk out music. As I made my way through the venue I was besieged by a gaggle of children aged about 8-12 years. “Nash! Nash! Will you sign our posters?” What? “Can we have your autograph? You’re our favorite!” …why? You know I didn’t win right? “You’re the coolest! We were sure you’d win. Don’t worry; you’ll beat him next time!” …the coolest huh? “Yeah! “ Well, I can’t argue with that. I signed their posters and whatnot. “You’ll fight him again right?” If you promise to watch, I promise to fight. “Yeah!” The exchange with the children had me feeling pretty good, but then the adults came. One man said “you’re a helluva guy! Thought for sure you’d win!” Me too… A lady came by and said “Wait.. are you the guy that walked around with that guy on your back trying to choke you!? That was great! Everyone’s so surprised you lost.” No one is more surprised than me. Another lady shouted in my passing “Nice fight, love your hair!”
It turns out that in this town, this even was a big deal. They honestly had nothing else. The gratitude and general interest of the crowed were the best I had ever seen. Certainly the best crowd I had ever fought in front of. Also, adoring fans is something a guy can get used to. If only they knew my other plan besides slamming the guy backwards was to take off in a sprint, run up the cage, then flip off and slam my opponent. Maybe next time.
By the time I made it backstage again the promoter said “you look happy”. Told you I was a quick healer. The night wasn’t all that great though: Lloyd won, I lost, Coop lost, and Flan’s fight was canceled. After the event I got together with a friend who had come to watch the fights and we went off into the night. I was left to think about my loss, without even any wounds to lick. At least I did take away a couple valuable lessons.
Looks like I may need to revenge my revenge on the Hook n’ Shoot…
-Nash