Halloween is my least favorite holiday, and I don’t know what would come in second. This is an odd way to start an article about being scared, true. But I detest it. I think it brings out the worst in people, especially in regards to the whole trick-or-treat culture. You have kids running full speed in the dark and shoving other kids out of the way to get first dibs on the prime candy spots; you have lazy, absentee parents “taking” their kids trick-or-treating (when all they’re doing is inching up the street in their cars, making it impossible to drive); worst of all, you have people pretending to be someone else and pretending to scare other people, which is an affront to all those special folks doing those things for real the other 364 days of the year. It’s kind of like New Years Eve, where all those non-drinkers have a few whiskey sours and end up passed out in their neighbors flower bed singing “Bennie and the Jets” and vomiting at the same time. Simply put, it’s amateur hour.
That being said, I’m trying to get into the spirit, because I have children in my life. You don’t want to be an ogre, because that energy rubs off on kids. Since I can’t figure out how to transition from opining on Halloween to opining on things about MMA that would scare the shit out of me if I was forced to experience them … well, here are some things about MMA that would scare the shit out of me if I was forced to experience them.
Getting into a leglock battle with a Japanese guy.
One of the most important adages in life, “never play footsies with a Japanese guy” is right up there with “never play cards with anyone who has the same first name as a city”. It’s just a bad idea. You’re scrambling, you think you have something, and next thing you know, you’re tapping rapidly. Actually, I just thought of a better one …
Getting into a leglock battle with Rousimar Palhares.
Holy mother of God. I think anyone who even agrees to compete with Palhares in any capacity is a nutjob, but to grab a leg and start dicking around? You’d have to be a special kind of deranged.
Leglocks remain the one MMA technique that leave me questioning the strength of my stomach every time I see them applied. Something about the suddenness of a leg being torn into pieces, especially by a man who clearly has no empathy for human legs, is excruciating.
They should make a horror movie called “Rousimar” where a bunch of high school seniors are getting ready for prom, primed and excited to drink and dance the night away. Laura is putting her makeup on, examining herself closely … and crack! Rousimar pops out from behind the shower curtain and applies an achilles lock. Dylan is putting on his tuxedo pants … and SNAP! Rousimar does a Bond roll from under the bed and heel hooks his free leg for 30 seconds too long. This would be a terrifying movie.
Fighting a Diaz brother.
Now, when I type this, I’m not just talking about the in-cage experience, although that would probably be enough to terrify most people. When you agree to fight a Diaz brother, you’re in for three solid months of completely incomprehensible psychobabble directed at you. Then there’s the press conference, where they’ll treat you like you’ve been ducking them ever since you started your MMA career. At the weigh in, they’ll go head to head with you and make mean faces that aren’t ironic at all. Within the first 30 seconds of every fight, they’ll call you bad words, most of the time after you land your best shot. Then, if you beat them, it might not be over yet. Nick Diaz is a man who fought Joe Riggs in the emergency room after they fought. That’s a special kind of not giving a shit.
There’s just no way it isn’t disarming on some level. You might win, and you might win without losing your cool at any point. But it will suck for you, pretty much the entire time. And if you get caught against the cage, get ready for Death By Pittery Pop Pop Pop. Scary stuff.
Fighting Cain Velasquez.
Grappling with Matt Lindland.
This dude would intentionally refrain from showering for God knows how long before his fights, in an attempt to distract his opponents. So I get to fight an Olympic wrestler who doesn’t shower? Where do I sign up?
Then you knock him out, and go out to celebrate afterwards. Maybe you start to put the moves on a young lady … but no! No dice. The residual stench of roasted goat testicles is wafting off of you, and no body wash will alleviate it for days. Unfair. That bastard.
Have a staredown with Yoshihiro Nakao.
The biggest issue I had with Yoshihiro Nakao kissing Heath Herring before their fight was that there were only two things Herring could do, and neither of them were good. In the heat of the moment, Herring elected to flatten Nakao with a right cross, ending his night before it began.
Despite being really Goddamn funny, this was obviously a terrible outcome for any situation, because Yoshihiro Nakao got seriously hurt. But imagine being seconds away from fighting this dude, and he leans in and kisses you. Even the most progressive of thinkers would admit that this would, at the very least, be extremely rude.
No? I should stop right now? Okay, fine. I understand. My point is that I would never, ever wish this situation on anyone. You did nothing about it? You must have liked it (And even if that’s not true, and even if you aren’t homophobic, this isn’t something you want other people to think about you, and if you say you don’t care what other people think, you’re lying) You knocked him out? You’re a homophobic monster riddled with ludicrous levels of testosterone.
(Happy Halloween, guys. Especially to anyone with kids.)