A few people have asked me why there haven’t been any updates in the last few months. Well, there are a number of reasons, and none I want to go into here, but suffice to say Notes from Ringside is for now a project no more.
So all that’s left is for me to say thanks to everyone who ever stopped by, goodbye, and keep supporting MMA.
Hywel
Higher John, higher!
We met with TUF 8 light heavyweight 
Krzysztof Soszynski for a photoshoot and interview. It was cold as hell, but it was dry (for once). I decided to take the shoot outdoors so we could use some cool graffiti I had spotted a few nights before, and I am really pleased with how the images came out.
One of the pics from the shoot
Krzysztof was a really cool guy and very easy to work with – he took direction well and didn’t mind when about 40 tourists walked by in a group, all craning to see what we were up to. I expect none of them had a clue we were taking pics of a fighter and figured we were just doing some kind of fashion shoot, albeit with a very muscular dude.
To check out the interview John wrote up for the website, head on over to www.fightersonlymagazine.co.uk.
Thanks to Krzys’s wife Genevieve for the picture at top.
My last proper blog was done on Friday evening, shortly before I headed out to meet up with Ireland’s first (and only) BJJ black belt John Kavanagh to go see Joe Rogan’s stand-up gig. I’ve seen Rogan a total of seven times now, but he always does something new and this time was no exception. The gig was at a bar called Rooty’s and was approximately the size of my living room, into which a bunch of people were crammed, so many so that organiser Dave Bishop set up a PA outside so that people (including me and my friends) could watch through the window. It was a bit surreal, kind of like watching a giant TV, but great fun. I said hi to Joe after the show and we briefly discussed beard grooming before I headed off to grab some Chinese food.
Back at the hotel I found John in bed with toilet paper rammed into his ears – literally minutes before I arrived a nearby nightclub had been pumping out hard dance music that shook our room. I laughed at his misery only for the music to start back up at 3.30am, just as I was settling down.
Saturday is fight day, so it always means I get a lie-in. A lazy morning in bed checking emails and making sure everything was up to date preceded a short bout of shopping in Birmingham. I amused myself by trying on lots of hats while John found himself irresistibly drawn to some black tracksuits. Lol, just lol.
Media passes, we love them
We made our way up to the arena and checked in, picking up our passes and being warned not to wear any Fighters Only t-shirts in the press pit due to the rather tight advertising ban. We got online, John did a great job of the play by play while I took my own notes and generally took everything in.
The event
Though the fights were good, the event felt very flat, which was disappointing considering the fight card looked absolutely stacked on paper. The crowd felt listless, didn’t really get into any of the fights except Bisping’s, and seemed pretty indifferent to much of the action.
We headed to the post-fight press conference and as the topic of discussion turned to TUF, I suddenly realised five of the seven fighters on the stage had in fact appeared on the show, with only Bisping actually winning it. Crazy.
Our ‘office’ – this was picture was taken at 1.18am!
Back to the hotel John and I set up an improptu office in the bar and worked until 2am, making our working day a total of approximately 15 hours. Stashing our laptops in the room, we headed out in search of food, finally finding an Indian restaurant near the UFC’s hotel. As we finished our food, we headed up there on a whim to find a whole bunch of people drinking in the lobby and hotel bar. We immediately bumped into Ken Pavia and Wesley Murch and chatted to them for a while before heading into the bar and almost choking at the absurd drink prices.
Lola, Tom and Chris, drinking partners extraordinaire
We chatted with everyone from Dan Henderson to Dave Jackson (Muay Thai coach at the Wolfslair), enjoyed drinks with Chris Zorba, ‘Posh’ Tom Baxter, Lola Bamagbala and my good friend but friendly rival Darragh Creamer (he edits Fightsport magazine).
John and Darragh
It was getting late and we were literally the last people left in the bar – at this point there had been plenty of whiskeys consumed, and furniture was cleared for a brief bout of hotel jiu-jitsu between me and Darragh, which was brought to an abrupt halt by confused and slightly nervous hotel staff – after our tussle John told me that Dan Henderson had been watching and laughing at us from the staircase! As John put it, “one to tell the grandkids!”
On the train home – happy faces!
A grand total of two and a half hours sleep and we were heading back home when the final surprise came. The entire trip has been very cool in terms of making contacts and hooking up with fighters, coaches and other important persons, but we were given a gift by the universe when we spotted TUF8 light heavyweight Krzysztof Soszynski sitting on the table next to us on the train back to Manchester. Krzys may have a name that would give dyslexics nightmares but he is a really cool guy and was more than happy to chat to us for a while.
It’s been a long week, but it’s been pretty damn cool. The fights, although interesting, were actually the low point of the whole experience for us – we got so much good content and made so many great contacts that this trip will be paying for itself for a while to come.
Leben bravely comes out to the Octagon to the Sex Pistols’ ‘God Save the Queen’. As in London against Jason Day, Bisping chooses to enter to Blur’s ‘Song 2’, a guaranteed crowd-pleaser.
Bisping’s usually pretty focussed but now he seems to have combined that focus with a real fire. He is, to put it bluntly, up for a scrap.
The fight played out quite simply – Leben kept going forward, while Bisping stuck to the game plan and picked off the American from range. Leben lets his chin hang out as the second clapper as an invitation but ate a kick to the mush for his trouble.
Bisping easily walked away with the unanimous decision after a classy and clinical performance.
OK, off to the press conference – catch you later!
Brandon Vera comes out to the Black Eyed Peas – the ring girls Arianny and Edith dance less than ten feet away from me. I love this job.
In the Jardine corner, part of Keith’s pre-fight preparation includes tweaking of his beard – and thankfully not his nipples. OK, I spoke too early – he tweaked his damn nipples.
Round one is sufficiently dramatic and entertaining, with both guys getting clipped and going down in the space of five seconds. The second round goes by, and not for want of trying, neither man is landing the clean, effective shots needed. They’re scoring, but it’s hard to tell who’s edging it.
Round three is about to start and Jardine is looking like a demonic racehorse ready to be let out of the gates. He clubs his way in with punches and Vera looks for openings for the big left kick to the body.
For the first time all night, the crowd starts to boo. It’s not like there isn’t any action – it’s just that they’re cancelling each other out so much there’s just not that much happening. The fifteen minutes close to a spattering of polite applause and an unhealthy amount of grumbling, and Jardine takes it via split decision.
“I’ll punch him, kick him, throw him – I’ll destroy him,” says Sokoudjou, who comes out to a rap-metal tune that features Fred Durst. Whatever happened to him? Sokoudjou spent the first round peppering Cane with punches and kicks but was forced to take a time out after a nasty low bow. That’s the third of the evening.
Sokoudjou prooves predators can fly with a series of jumping attacks, but Cane is settling into a counter-punching strategy that isn’t too spectacular to watch, and if it wasn’t for Sokoudjou’s explosive attacks and head movement, the fight would be a lot less entertaining than it is.
Out of nowhere, Cane drops Sokoudjou and blasts him with a barrage of left hands that sees referee Marc Goddard dive in. The African stays down for a long time and rests on his stool as the result is announced, clearly shaken by the stoppage. Cane monkeys around while his translator talks to Rogan in the post fight interview.
Paul Taylor gets a massive cheer – referee Kevin Mulholland doesn’t, bless him. Lytle looks typically non-plussed, and they start leathering each other like they’re both planned on taking home the bonuses on offer. If it keeps up like this, they’re likely going to get at least two of them between them.
When they’re not in the clinch, neither man is bothering with any footwork. Instead, they stand approximately a foot and a half apart and use each other as a punch bag. It’s not as entertaining as we’d hoped, and though they go at it intermittently for the three round the crowd is pretty flat until the last twenty seconds.
Lytle takes a deserved unanimous decision, and nobody understands his post-fight speech. Now we know how the American’s feel when they listen to us.
The main card has begun, and Marcus ‘plastic Paddy’ Davis is coming into the arena to the strains of House of Pain, which I can’t resist bopping to. Kelly comes out to that Linkin Park / Jay-Z mix that seems to get played at every MMA event I ever go to.
The first round starts slow with neither fighter risking too much. Davis looks slimmer and his hands seem quicker than usual, and he’s teasing his jab out nicely. Davis gets a takedown into half guard with 1.30 left in the round and passes to side control but Kelly bridges him off and gets to his feet. The round ends with them potshotting each other with little effect.
Two minutes pass with not much happening until Kelly hits a double leg. Davis grabs a guillotine off it and forces the tap at 2.16 of the second round. After the fight a disappointed Kelly says “I shouldn’t have tapped, I should have gone out like a man”.
This is Dan Hardy’s big break – 26 years of age, 26 fights under his belt, and making his UFC debut in the UK less than an hour from his house. It could be perfect, or disastrous.
Gono’s entrance is typically eccentric, with him and his cornermen is matching white catsuits, shades and crazy wigs. When he and two partners busts out synchronised dance moves, the crowd instantly warm to him, and although it takes him four times as long to get into the Octagon and get ready, no one minds.
Dan’s factfile graphics describe him as ‘quick’ – someone has obviously done their homework! He enters to a ‘England belongs to me’, a rousing punk rock tune that has his fans in high spirits.
Gono has cut four pounds to Dan’s fifteen, and looks way smaller for it. Dan stalks him early but Gono seems to be trying to figure out his timing. The first round is Dan’s but not too much actually happens.
Second round sees Hardy landing more, but having to dealing with flying kicks, jumping punches and spinning attacks. Still, his accuracy has earned him the round, and I’d peg him clearly ahead into the third.
Hardy eats a lot of left hooks in the third and is left woozy from an illegal knee at the four-minute mark. He gutted out the rest of the fight though, only taking a brief rest before carrying on.
Big Dan literally throws a mid-air Gono to the mat as the final bell goes, and Dan picks up a dramatic but well-earned split decision victory.
|
