Samman’s Prizefighting Chronicles: Brawling a Barbarian Part III – The Aftermath

If a loss makes us question ourselves, two in a row makes us rethink everything. Small sample groups can do that to a person. Double L’s, and both times my own actions have been my undoing. At some point, it’s hard not to wonder if self-sabotage isn’t an innate character trait.

After the fight I take a photo of my face so I don’t forget. As the dust settles, it hurts more, but I want to feel it and remember it. I don’t want to forget the time I thought I was going to buzzsaw through a grown man and got stopped in my tracks. I want to remember that I can’t fight however I want and still expect to win.

Josh Samman

We spend so few minutes of our lives under the bright lights, sometimes it can feel like that world isn’t real. Injuries help remind us that the hurt game is very real. Misfires in game plans can result in much more than just a loss on our record. Dire health consequences are at play, and injuries of the ocular variety are among the most frightening.

Four stitches, a broken orbital, and a bruised ego; that’s the tally list, from least to most painful.

“I feel like anything can happen in there. Josh is such a tough kid, and usually comes out and starts fast and is real dangerous.” Complimentary words from Boetsch post-fight, but they are hardly comforting.

I find my mom after getting stitched to tell her I’m fine. She’s only seen me lose once before. I try to enjoy being with my family if only for a moment, before heading back downstairs to hose off. I go to the shower, the one I’d envisioned coming back to after a win, and rinse the blood. I make the mistake of blowing my nose, and my eye balloons badly. Half my vision is now blocked, and my mind meanders off the fight for a split second, thinking how complex our sinus cavities really are. I think I’ve been knocked silly.

I find myself telling a UFC employee I’m fine, although he hadn’t even asked if I was or not. Maybe it was his reaction when he saw me. The looks are always different after a loss. Perhaps it was me telling myself I was fine.

I go back to the hotel, where everyone from the event is reliving the night. Hiding face has never sat well with me after a defeat. I feign my best act of indifference. It is disingenuous, and …

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