Interlude

Fight 2: Heavyweight (265 Lbs.)

Timothy Strange (Vengeance MMA) versus Pablo Gracia (Brotherhood Jiu-jitsu)

 

            And that’s the bell, ending round two. And just like round one, I’d hate to be a judge who had to call it. Between Strange’s incredible athleticism and Gracia’s superior technical skill, I honestly don’t know who has the advantage in this fight. Strange definitely set the pace for round one, throwing strike after strike, trying to knock out the son of the legendary Jiu-jitsu master. Gracia, however, has shown incredible skill in striking defense and takedowns, succeeding in an unbelievable nine out of twelve takedown attempts. But Strange’s wrestling has saved him time and time again from being caught down there in Gracia’s world, and the two of them come back up to their feet time and time again.

            I’d love to be a fly on the wall in Gracia’s corner and hear what the father’s telling his son.

            “His escapes are too good,” said Pablo. George offered him a bottle of water, which he took.

            “His escapes on the ground are too good,” corrected Ricardo, who was pressing an ice pack against his son’s chest. “You’ve been clinching with him all day. You need to adjust your game. Be flexible. Fight him standing up. You know this already.”

            Pablo nodded.

            “What, he’s going to try to knock him out?” George asked, confused. “Strange is way better with his hands. The rounds are too close as it is.”

            The others ignored him.

            “Close the distance, clinch, and finish him,” Ricardo ordered. “This has to be done.”

            The Referee signaled for the teams to leave the cage. Round three would be starting soon. Pablo stood from his stool and started rotating his arms, loosening up. The rest of the team started filing down the steps to their place beside the cage.

            “Seriously, he’s going to try to knock him out?” George asked again.

            Renato, Pablo’s younger brother, simply pointed at the cage. “Just watch,” he said.

            And there’s the start of round three. Both fighters cautiously approaching the center of the cage… I simply just cannot believe the size difference here. Gracia, only a little bigger than his father was when he was winning Elite, weighed in at a scant 215 pounds. Strange, beside him, just looks like a man mountain. He weighed in at 263, though by now he’s likely 285. A monster. And I think that’s what I like so much about this match-up. A classic Gracia match-up, like when Elite first started without weight classes. David versus Goliath. And David seems to be holding his own, here.

            George watched as Pablo ducked Strange’s wild hook punches. The two men seemed locked in a never ending flow of motion. Pablo ducked, blocked, and lunged, constantly pressing against his opponent, looking for a place to grab him, feeling for an opening. Strange was in a fury that changed quickly into violent frustration whenever Pablo’s fingers closed around a wrist or a shoulder or a hip. When Pablo found holds like that, Strange bucked furiously to get him off, but George could see, little by little, Pablo was closing the distance with the other fighter, and every time he made contact it took just a little longer to shake him loose.

            Strange is berserk. He’s furious. He’s lashing out with everything he’s got, trying to knock out Gracia, but Gracia keeps coming. Shoot and clinch. Shoot and clinch. Gracia is really trying to insist on taking the fight to the ground, where Strange keeps escaping from, and I think another takedown is inevitable. But does Gracia have what it takes to keep him there?

            Then it happened. Pablo dipped under a haymaker punch and clinched his arms around Strange’s neck and under his shoulder. The two of them stumbled backwards, crashing into the fence, which rippled with the impact like an ocean disturbed by earthquake. The two of them pummeled there, trying to swim under each other’s grips, weaving their arms into a tangle while their legs stood like reinforcements against castle walls.

            George’s fingernails dug into the flesh of his palms as he balled them into fists. He saw it. An opportunity. An opening. A finish.

            “Choke him, Pablo!” he shouted.

            Pablo shifted his position and tightened his squeeze on the giant, pressing the big man’s shoulder into his own neck. The trapped arm flailed helplessly, and then not at all. Strange’s eyes squeezed shut with strain.

            I don’t know for sure but I think Strange might be in trouble. Is that a choke? I think it is! Pablo Gracia is choking Tim Strange and I don’t know if it’s tight enough but it looks like Strange isn’t getting away! Is this the end of the fight?

            Pablo let go of his opponent and walked away. Strange’s limp body slumped to the floor and lay there in an awkward position. He didn’t move. As the referee rushed to him he waved his arm in the air as a signal to stop the match, and the crowd and the Chinese drums together erupted into fanfare.

            “The winner by submission: Pablo Gracia!” announced the melodious voice.

            The spectators, George included, thundered back. Scott and Ricardo seemed to be able to contain their excitement and keep their seats when all others were on their feet, something that made George pause and think. He followed their gaze to the fallen Strange. He still lay their near the cage surrounded by a small team of medical professionals working to restore his consciousness. George felt a pang of something�"guilt?�"in his chest as he watched Strange finally gasp and shake as though in a seizure. The team began checking his eyes and neck and a dozen other places while his coach and team mates began explaining what had happened. George could see as clear as day the disappointment on Strange’s face.

            There was suddenly a hand on George’s shoulder. “A pity what some others may have to pay for us to be successful. Wouldn’t you agree?” asked Ricardo.

            George nodded. He’d learned that lesson long ago. The shame of victory. Like the other 20,000 people in the stadium, he applauded for Pablo. In his heart, he also applauded for Timothy Strange, for what it was worth.