Samman’s Prizefighting Chronicles: Brawling a Barbarian Part I – The lead-up

I’m propped up on a chair near the water fountain and the room is spinning. I’m not drunk, though a cold beer does sound nice. I’m in muggy Miami, surrounded by Brazilians in a warehouse that’s been home to my training camp for the past six weeks. The walls are red, with pictures of our victories lining the room. The last day of sparring is done and I’m recovering near the watering hole.

My gear is strewn about the room. Gloves are near the wall, wraps are underneath me, mouthpiece nowhere to be found. This is sometimes the case after the last exhausting round, pieces of equipment falling where they may. Before I leave I’ll gather it up, wet and sweaty, and throw it in the truck with the rest of my belongings to head to my hometown of Tallahassee, Florida. There, I’ll spend the last week of camp before heading to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, to do battle with Tim “The Barbarian” Boetsch.

I got the call two months ago, days before leaving for Europe to help an old rival from The Ultimate Fighter get ready for a fight in Italy. It wasn’t the first trip I’d committed to over the course of the eight weeks in question, and more than one friend has asked me if I’m focused. I tell them I am, and I really am.

I fight because I need outlets at my disposal to take pride in, for myself and where I come from.

As I exit the interstate on North Monroe in Tallahassee I see a billboard for a recently penned memoir written by the capital city’s cage-fighter-turned-author. I was the first from the state’s panhandle to make it to the UFC, and while feedback from the project has been positive, I know it’s made folks wonder how much my heart still lies in the face-punching realm. Following a memorable KO victory in 2014 against Ultimate Fighter winner Eddie Gordon, I’d be lying if said I didn’t question my purpose as well. There have been times where I debate if that moment can be topped.

Such thoughts have led me to the help of sports psychologist Hector Morales, comrade of hometown friends and mental instructor for the Pittsburgh Pirates. I call on him late in the game, and after our first talk I know I should’ve employed him sooner.

He asks me what my motives are, if not to be champion of the world. I tell him I fight because I enjoy competition, and elevating my status in the MMA community. I fight because it affords me a medium for creative expression, and serves as a vehicle for accomplishment. I fight because I need outlets at my disposal to take pride in, for myself and where I come from. He tells me my motives alone are something to take pride in. He says to embrace them, that they are unique to me and to not compare mine to others.

We address what could’ve gone wrong in my most recent outing; a last minute submission loss to BJJ-savvy Tamdan McCrory. The performance left fans baffled as to why I initiated ground-fighting in lieu of striking with the 6’4″ sharp-shooter. Folks like to play Monday Morning Quarterback and I try to justify my actions by reminding them I had winning moments of the fight and was trying only to continue the assault. Hector tells me justifications aren’t necessary. Water under the bridge, and execute better next time. It’s all about controlling my emotions, he says.

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My emotions are in control, for now. There are moments where my heart beat rises as I imagine those few seconds after the referee asks me if I’m ready, or the touch of the canvas under my bare feet. When I have feelings of nervousness I do my best to accept …

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