Questions Answered.

For me, this past weekend was nothing less than a journey into the unknown. Having never been out of the first round in five previous amateur bouts, I had to expect the new sensation considering the caliber of opponent I was facing. Length of bout aside, I had many questions of my own that I had been dwelling over for the three years I’ve been in this sport. Most of these questions circulated around my own mental and physical fortitude. Questions like “What’s going to happen when I see my own blood?” or “How will I react to a punch that puts me on queer street?” Most, if not all of my questions were answered on Saturday evening, and I can do little more than smile at the answers presented.

I knew a bit about my opponent, Boris Rakita. Everyone I’d spoken to told me he was a decent stand up guy and had killer elbows from top position, but one characteristic no one could have emphasized enough, that is his toughness. I’ve fought a few guys who thought they were a bit tougher than they truly were. A few punches into the fight, it was clear they weren’t going to be able to handle me for a full 3 rounds, let alone the first 3 minutes. Early in my battle with Boris we traded shots, he hit hard, but nothing more than I’d felt in the past. I hit him with a few shots that would normally wobble someone, or at least give them enough warning to stop trading with me. Boris never stopped coming. Throughout the fight I’d hit him with a shot I knew he would feel the next day, he’d take a step back, regain himself and come back for more - the guy is a machine.

Early in the first round my first question was answered. Blood. Blood, and lots of it to follow. I believe, but can’t be positive, that he was the first to start bleeding. Blood trickled from his nose after I landed a punch, shortly thereafter he returned fire and I felt the liquid start pouring. Many people have issues seeing their own blood, knowing that every second they continue battling more of their body’s energy and life force is draining uncontrollably. I’ve read numerous MMA articles where fighters or trainers tell of their will to fight quickly leaving them with every drop of blood spilt. Until this fight I had a very real fear of this same sensation overcoming me. Each time I entered the cage I was afraid that the taste of my own blood would, somehow instantly, force me to throw in the towel and concede. The blood never stopped flowing for the full 15 minutes, Joel’s face was spattered as if he’d just gutted an animal, my shorts were soaked. At one point Boris attempted to take me to the ground, I looked at his back and kind of smirked as I painted a pretty picture on his back. Question 1: Can I deal with seeing my own blood? Answer: Yes, and It strangely motivates me.

Question 2: Can Stephen last 2...3...4 or even 5 rounds? This was David’s favorite question to ask over the past 3 years. Before every fight David never once questioned my power. Never once questioned my willingness to fight whoever or whenever. However, before every fight I’d hear the same words muttered - “I’m worried about your cardio”. Why wouldn’t he be? Before every fight I’ve cut way too much weight, way to close to fight time. The last couple of weeks of training have been a hodgepodge of sloppy training caused by malnourished muscles. He wasn’t the only one asking this question, it was another one of the fears that haunted me the night before I faced off with Boris. The most common mistake I see in MMA comes from what I will call “energy management”. Marathon runners train to run roughly 26 miles with a clear, concise end point. Mixed Martial Artists train for the possibility of 9, 15, or 25 minutes of combat, however the bout can end at any time. This idea I think gives novice fighters the false hope that going balls out for 2 minutes, will equate to pacing yourself for 5 minutes, false. I had never been past the first round, cardio was a big question mark. I’m smarter than the average amateur level fighter, I’m smart enough to know that if I’m going into a fight scheduled for five-three minute rounds that I can’t blow my energy in the first or second round on an 8 punch combo followed by a failed takedown attempt. I’d be lying if I said I felt fresh at the beginning of the fifth round, or that I felt my punches were just as hard at the end of the fight as at the beginning, but I was smart enough to know that midway through the fight I didn’t feel that I had enough energy to take down my opponent, and stay on top, while conserving enough energy to see my way through the rest of the fight if I couldn’t finish. So the answer to question two? Clearly I made it fifteen minutes. Certainly I have room for improvement. A better weight cut, a more consistent cardio routine and a better understanding of energy conservation should lead to me feeling faster, and stronger later in the fight. Sure I made it fifteen minutes, the plan is that next time I’m forced to do it, I’ll do it better.

My final question, and probably most important, revolved around my heart. In my life I have the uncanny ability to recognize impending failure, and avoid it at all costs. If something isn’t going my way, I would rather jump ship and find a different path, than meet it head on and push through it. Clearly in fighting it isn’t that easy, though conceivably at any point in the fight I could have gone to the corner and told Joel or Dave that I was completely unwilling to continue. The thought crossed my mind at a couple of points in the later rounds, it typically went “If I get hit with another punch like that, I might have to go down…” The thought quickly dissipated when I got hit with another punch and figured I’d be happier throwing a punch back than throwing in the towel. Early in the fight, maybe the second round, I got caught with a punch that dropped me. All machismo aside, I was not rocked, I was not stunned or on the verge of being knocked out… I just got a knuckle to the eyeball, and honestly believed my eye was bout to pop out of my head. I went blind for the remainder of the round, walked back to my corner and immediately told Joel “I can’t see out of my right eye.” His response “That’s okay.” So the fight continued, vision slowly came back, eye began to swell, the fight went on. The answer to the question… Fighting is what I do, it’s what I train for, punches hurt, eyeballs feeling like they’re about to pop out REALLY sucks, but at the end of the day, my opponent is going to have to knock me out or quit himself if he doesn’t want to fight another round.

At the end of five rounds I knew who had won, everyone did, there was no question, no doubt. I may have won a round or two early on, but the better fighter won. We rocked each other, and neither of us could pull the trigger and finish, but I think it’s safe to say that it can be attributed to both of our hearts and toughness, a lesser opponent in either corner would have folded much earlier.

Defeat is something I don’t deal with well, as I said earlier, I’d rather take a path with less bumps, than have to hit them full speed. After my first fight, which was also my first loss, I seriously considered quitting, I have no desire to pursue a sport or a passion that I am less than great at. I’m sure this is an issue I’ll have to face later down the road but waking up the morning after the fight, looking at my bruised and swollen face, the thought of quitting never crossed my mind. I smiled, I laughed, I hopped up and down and threw punches at the mirror. I was ready, and more than willing to go again. Training is my main focus, I want nothing more than to get my diet right, keep my weight down, build muscle and lose fat so that the next fight I’m faster, bigger, stronger. I have been five rounds, I know what it’s like, if training is harder this month than last, if dieting is better, my next opponent will wish he got injured during training, because I can assure him he’ll be injured by the time we leave the cage.

Thanks to Joel, David and all my training partners, friends and family who made the trip out. Without your support, without hearing the chants of “STEPHEN, STEPHEN!” drowning out the chants of “BORIS, BORIS!” I certainly wouldn’t be smiling today. Thank you to everyone.

- Stephen