My One Fight: Conclusion Part 2/2

The conclusion to North Dakota State Athletic Commissioner Chad Kurl’s “My One Fight.”

I flew into Davenport Iowa on Thursday, 26 hours before the weigh in. I was about 5 pounds overweight and stopped eating before I got on the flight. The first four pounds were easy to lose, the last one was a nightmare. I spent a hour on the bike in the hotel in plastics just struggling to get a sweat going. I weighed 185.6 in my room on a scale I had purchased at the local K-Mart right before leaving for the weigh ins.

Weigh-ins were held at a bar in Bettendorf. The first person I met there was my opponent Nick. Nick was a nice kid, emphasis on the kid. Actually he is 22 or 23, but he doesn’t look a day over 16. Physically, I looked bigger and felt I would be stronger than Nick. I weighed in at 184.4lbs, not sure what Nick came in at as I was immediately trying to rehydrate. If nothing else, this process gave me some insight as to what the fighters I regulate are going through before and during the weigh in process. I rehydrated with some of the fighters and ate a sandwich before I went back to the hotel.

For two weeks leading up to the fight, I would wake up every night thinking about the fight. I would envision it in my head. Throwing my jab, followed by a right. Double jab to a shoot. I played scenarios out in my head. I never lost and I never got hit in these scenarios. Once I got to Iowa my mindset changed a little. I was very nervous, almost unable to function. The thing that scared me the most was letting down the people who sacrificed their time and energy to get me there. My wife, who gave up 4 days a week so I could train. The guys at the gym who pushed me and didn’t let me quit. My friends and co-workers who all supported me coming down and fighting. I really started to feel pressure that if I lost I would let them down.

Friday night and Saturday I tried my best to relax. It didn’t really work.  At noon on Saturday I went to the venue to look at the cage: 20-22ft, six sided cage with a vinyl flooring. It was wet and slippery but I still moved around a little bit to get a feel for it. I had never trained in a cage, so it was going to be a new experience. Back at the hotel I grabbed a quick nap, watched a little television and talked to my wife and a few friends.  The show was scheduled to start at 8:00 pm, so at 6:00pm I made my way over to the venue.

The strangest thing happened on my way there. All of it started to make more sense. By the time the fighters meeting came around, I wasn’t nervous at all. Fighter meetings were something I have done dozens of times. The referee briefly reviewed the rules. Basically, UFC rules with no elbows and 4-5 ounce gloves. After the fighter meeting, I found a secluded corner, changed into my fight gear and started wrapping my hands. I had been practicing wrapping my own hands, because to be honest, in all of the small shows I have seen horrible hand-wrapping jobs. After I wrapped my hands, I helped a couple of other guys and wrapping theirs. I gloved up and got ready for the show to start.

The first fight of the night was over in 9 seconds. Three kicks and an overhand right and one guy was out. It was sobering to watch it transpire, especially since I knew I would be in the ring next.

My opponent was called out first, I still wasn’t nervous at all. I bounced a little from side to side and waited until he was in the ring. The first few bars of Marilyn Manson’s “Beautiful People” came on and I started to walk toward the ring. I stopped just past the archway and looked at the ring, the smoke machine billowing out white clouds around me. I walked to the cage door, flip flops off, hoodie off, mouthguard in. A little last minute advice from my corner and then it was in the cage to the red corner for me.

I was actually surprised that I still wasn’t nervous. The referee came over and checked my gloves, asked if I had a mouthguard and a cup and then asked if I had any questions. I said I didn’t and we were ready to go.  “Red corner ready?” Nod. “Blue corner ready?” Nod. With an arm gesture, he said “fight!”

While I was warming up I had watched Nick work the pads. I was confident that my stand up was better than his. My plan was to throw the jab to find the range then follow up with the jab, cross. The funny thing about game plans is how quickly they can change. We closed in the center of the ring, and I apparently forgot how to box. I was told later that I was standing straight up, chin held high with my hands just a touch too low. Nick through a right that connected with my cheek and nose. My head rocked back and I immediately tasted copper. So much for the standing with him game plan.

I threw a weak double jab and shot for the take down. I didn’t get it, but we ended up clinching. I was stronger in the clinch, but wasn’t able to keep him pinned against the fence. Every opportunity I would throw right knees into his stomach and chest. One may have even gotten him in the face.

We clinched like that 2 or 3 times, on the last one as I stepped away, I must have put my foot down on its side because it completely turned over, I felt the pop as it went out of place. Later, my corner, and some front row fans, would tell me there was an audible crack. I went down like I had been shot, screaming like a little girl. When I hit the ground the foot went back into place. Fortunately for me, the referee, probably because he didn’t know what else to do, had stepped in between me and Nick. I got up and he asked me if I wanted to continue.  My brain was saying “No,” but for some strange reason my mouth translated that to “Yes.”

I knew there wasn’t much time in the round left, so all I thought was “get out of the round, get out of the round.” The first two steps toward the center of the ring were excruciating. I shot immediately, and from the point on I didn’t feel the ankle again until after the fight. I got the takedown and ended up in side control. I threw knees to the body and tried to throw some strikes. I was able to catch his right arm in a kimura, but couldn’t finish it. I let it go and got mount. Threw some strikes and the round ended.

I went to my corner. I didn’t feel winded, but my body was exhausted. A quick drink of water and some quick advice and the break was over. The round started with me relentlessly shooting. My first shot was stuffed and I was caught on my knees. I could tell Nick was tired because he wasn’t punching my head off. I could hear his corning calling for the guillotine. I controlled his right arm and went to pull guard. It was really more like a butt flop. Instead of engaging me on the ground, Nick backed up and let me stand. I shot again immediately, taking him down and ending up in side control. This time I transitioned right away to mount.

I started throwing leather and he gave up his back. I tried to sink in the choke, but for some reason couldn’t get my hooks in. I got the arm in deep, but wasn’t able to get my hand behind his head. I arched back anyway and heard him gurgle, but didn’t feel the tap. I heard my corner say, “If you don’t have it, don’t waste all of your energy!” This seemed like good advice. I let the choke go and started pounding the sides of his head.  He rolled over to his back again and I got a few more shots in then I saw his right arm was open for the key lock. I drove his wrist into the mat and fed my arm under his, locking my left hand on my right wrist. My elbow was on his face as I tried to paint the floor with his hand. I realized his hand was too close to his head to finish so I drove my elbow to the floor to create the 90 degree angle I needed to finish the lock. I pulled until his forearm was perpendicular to the floor, the referee decided this was enough and stopped the fight.

I got up and raised my arms in the air for a quick walk around the ring. The referee made it official and I hobbled out of the cage, aware again that my ankle hurt. I hobbled to the back, receiving congratulations along the way.  I have never been so tired in all my life. It took me a full 10 minutes to get my gloves and handwraps off so I could start calling and texting the people in my life. I went and checked on Nick. He was more tired than anything and then I went to find the best tasting beer I have ever had in my entire life. Many more beers followed.

The trip home was uneventful, save for the excruciating mess of swollen bruises that my ankle had become. A trip to the doctor the following day would reveal that I had broken one of the bones in the ankle. I followed up in a couple of weeks with the doctor to see what, if any additional damage has been done to the ligaments.

Planning to fight, training for the fight and actually getting in the cage was a fantastic experience. I have a great group of guys at Bismarck Combat Sports. They broke me so many times in the gym that I refused to be broken in the cage. I owe this victory to them. I have a fantastic family who understood that doing this was something I “had” to do and supported me the entire time. Sincerest thanks to all my friends who supported me in this, it meant the world to me. Thank you to the Chupacabra Challenge for letting a couple of internet geeks get together and kick the crap out of each other and thanks to all the friends I made after the event.

And finally thanks to From the Gut for printing my blogs, and to you for reading them. I am sorry I wasn’t able to deliver like I had hoped but I hope you got something out of them.

Regards,
Chad

NOTE: From The Gut would like to congratulate Chad on his win and thank him for sharing his journey with us.