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
This is not a sob story. I’m not asking for sympathy, so don’t bother getting the violins out. I’m sat here at 3.14am, sleep deprived and nursing a very swollen and very, VERY sore ankle.
Just before the swelling really got underway
I sparred a little MMA earlier tonight, nothing major. Relatively light contact, lots of movement, that kind of thing. My opponent went for an outside trip takedown and some part of his foot or leg clashed with my ankle. It hurt a little but I carried on just fine. I noticed a little bruise right on the ball of the ankle, so put some ice on it while I watched an awesome wrestling class (suplexes, love ‘em). Later during dinner I mentioned my ankle was a little sore (little being the operative word here, little). He said he felt the clash, but didn’t know what it was. Fine I told him, it was fine.
I got home tonight and got down to some work (had to call America, the time difference is always a bitch). I’m sat at my desk, rubbing cooling gel on my foot while keeping it elevated. This last hour or two, it has gotten very sore. Sore to the point where I’m actually moaning out loud with pain (well, swearing actually. I’m not quite combination swearing just yet, if that comes later you’ll know it’s bad).
No, my feet are NOT supposed to be different colours. That’s no trick of the light either
So I’m sat here with a bag of frozen vegetables on my foot, cursing the day I ever took up MMA. You see, I’ve lost count of the number of injuries I’ve sustained, from the niggly to the crippling, the annoying to the potentially long-term.
Let’s see, shall we?
So, not a bad haul for six or seven years (or more) on the mat. Nothing too serious I suppose (apart from one or two that require constant management). I’ve bypassed the annoying ones like cauliflower ears, broken noses and missing teeth (phew).
I do wonder what toll I’m taking on my body by engaging in an activity where utter destruction of your opponent’s own body is not just encouraged, but expected.
Maybe I should move away from physical pursuits and treat my body as nothing more than a vehicle for my brain. It can take me here, there and everywhere, but why should I bump it off every other vehicle on the road of life?
Because I’d go mental if I didn’t, that’s why. So, as ever, I’ll have a little moan, suck it up and move the fuck on.
Namasté, bitches.
From April 2007. I remember that night well because I was teetotal at the time – it was a warm April day, the fights were good, and it was my first time at that venue. I travelled down to Nottingham with Karl, and the two of us went back to Billy’s house after the show. They got wrecked and I laughed at their ridiculousness. We got up early the next day and had a fry up, went to a carboot sale and then went training.
Wow, this month has been TOUGH.
Whatever your preconceptions of life in the publishing industry, putting together Fighters Only isn’t rocket science. It’s more like juggling about 20 different odd shaped objects all at once, while standing on a skateboard that someone is trying to kick from under you.
This is what rules my life month to month – the flatplan.
And all at the same time, there are people stood behind your back talking shit about you and waiting for you to fall so they can step in and claim they could do a better job. Not to mention the few members of the audience who boo incessantly, really wishing you’ll fail.
Well guess what? We got juggling skillz, for real. Everything that could have gone wrong, did, but fuck it if we didn’t pull it together, turn it around, slap it’s ass and call it daisy.
Next issue is gonna kick ass - you’ll see it in a week’s time.
I don’t play that many computer games, which is weird considering I’ve had some kind of computer or console since I was 8 years old. The most recent console I owned was a Playstation. I used to shred the PS2 back in the day, but that was a loooong time ago, when my house mate had use of one.
My new house mate brought with him an Xbox 360. Now this is by far the most evil invention to have in the house ever, especially if you work from home like I do. I don’t play it that much, rationing myself to a couple of tunes on Guitar Hero III a few nights a week – but with the release of the actual gameplay (and not just a pretty trailer) for the new UFC game, I’m thinking I might waste some serious time on that if I’m not careful. It doesn’t come out until next year though luckily, so that means my work won’t suffer until at least 2009.
Me and Dave Camarillo, BJJ and judo black belt and pretty awesome pioneer of ‘Guerrilla’ Jiu-Jitsu.
I was very happy to meet him 
Those of you who saw the pictures of my lacerated eye yesterday, thanks for kind comments. It’s going to heal just fine – I really was very lucky.
Here’s a pic from today, which shows a little of the damage to the eye itself.
Right in the fucking eye!
Tonight I was victim to a bizarre accident in training. Holding Thai pads for my partner, he threw a knee while pulling my head down at the same time. The buckle on the straps went through my bottom eyelid and lacerated my eye. Great.
More pics of the carnage After the jump. Read more »
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