Today on the CagePotato Roundtable, we’re taking a trip through the magical world of make-believe! Which MMA fighter would you scrap with if reality was no object? Would it be a hated heel? A personal idol? An undersized Japanese lady who you might actually have a puncher’s chance against? Joining us this week is Vince Mancini, the esteemed editor of FilmDrunk.com and occasional CP commenter. Follow his shit @FilmDrunk, and if you have a topic idea for a future Roundtable column, please send it to email@example.com.
Saying that I could fight any MMA fighter implies that I also have the option not to do so, and I would exercise that option. You see, I’m what scientists call “a pussy.” I don’t like my chances in a scrap against anyone, trained or not. In that way I’m kind of like the anti-Krazy Horse: I’ll back down from men, women, children, retarded people…
But if I had to throw down with an MMA fighter of my choosing, it’s going to be Bob Sapp, all day. The reasons are plentiful. As stated earlier, any trained fighter is going to wreck me, badly, so I’m certainly not going to pick someone smaller than me or a female — why give my detractors [friends] more to mock? No, I’m going to pick an intimidating juggernaut, and few fit that bill better than Bob Sapp. If I lose the fight — which is pretty much the only possibility — non-MMA fans [again, my friends] will look at pictures of him, then back at my unimposing frame, and accept the loss as a forgone conclusion while giving me eternal props for climbing into the cage with such a monstrosity.
Actual MMA fans tuning into the fight will already be expecting to see someone turtle-up and play dead before the first punch connects, so they won’t be disappointed if I take a page out of “The Beast’s” own playbook and hit the canvas prematurely. All of Sapp’s recent battles have been farces, so at least no one will be expecting a real fight; I’d hate to disappoint the crowd.
The other benefit of course is that any other fighter would be trying to, you know, win. That would entail hurting me in some manner, and frankly I don’t care for that. With Sapp I’m running a low risk of him coming out with any intention of actually fighting, and since cardio would be my only advantage, I’d hope to run around long enough for him to double over in exhaustion and tap out from the thought of taking a punch.
I’m not like some of the other writers on this site in that I’ll never be a fighter, or a successful one at least. If I was trying to win a fight, then I might fight this guy, but that’s also probably not in the cards since I don’t know if I want to be touched by him.
So assuming I had to climb into the cage with anyone it would definitely be Anderson Silva. Am I crazy? Yes, but that is a different story for me to work out with my family and friends. I would fight “The Spider” because, simply put, there is no one on the face of the earth who has fucked people up in so many creative and head-scratching ways. If I am to be remembered for anything in the fight game, it will be for getting my ass kicked, so why not do it in style? I can’t imagine a better dance partner for that than Anderson Silva.
I imagine walking to the cage, changing my fight shorts, and then offering my body as sacrifice. Perhaps Silva would have spent some time before the fight watching movies at home and practicing with his wife so he could pull off something incredible and incredibly painful. Maybe he’d undergo top-secret training with this perfect specimen of human combat and unleash holy hell on my face. If he was in a hurry and needed to get back to Brazil for some of his sponsor engagements then he might just decide to catch my first strike and bludgeon me into unconsciousness. I would be honored to get wrecked like that.
But let’s be real, Anderson would enter the ring, bow all over the place, and then probably get super angry at the insulting level of competition placed before him (putting me in elite company with Patrick Cote, Thales Leites, and Demian Maia). Perhaps he would call back one of his kicks from the Leites fight that would humiliate me even further. He might go into his Keanu Reeves “Matrix”-mode and clown me that way. Even if I shot testosterone directly into my balls for weeks on end, it still might not help me out too much.
In conclusion, if I’m going to fight an MMA fighter, I want to lose in epic fashion, and as the record number of hyperlinks above shows, ain’t no one better to order up a beating from than Anderson “The Spider” Silva.
And even if I win, I’m still going to end up unconscious.
As a big fan of Fight Club, hardly a day goes by that I don’t think about the eternal question, “if you could fight anyone, who would it be?” The contents of my list changes, but it’s rarely less than ten people, and always includes Ted Nugent (that stupid soul patch, GAAAH!), Screech, and someone from the DMV. But when Goldstein asked me if I could fight any MMA FIGHTER in the world who would it be, the new modifier threw me for a loop. After all, I fantasize about punching people, not getting my ass kicked. And while I’m pretty sure I could take most aging musicians, former child actors, and overweight city employees, I’d probably be out of my league against any fighter approaching professional level.
I started thinking of a fighter you’ve heard of that I might conceivably beat. Bob Sapp? Great if he’s taking his usual dive, but if he changes his mind, or if he even accidentally falls on me, I’m screwed. Out of all the seasons of The Ultimate Fighter, there has to be one dude I could take, so who was the worst? Andy Wang? Allen “Monstah Lobstah” Berube? Those guys would probably be my bottom two, but even then, my chances of actually winning would be 50-50 at best (and that’s being wildly generous). And even if I did win, so what? I’d either prove that I could hang with the worst or get beaten up by a guy everyone thinks is a bum, neither of which option sounds particularly attractive.
Point is, if you’re me, you’re probably going to get beaten up in any fantasy MMA match-up. So what you really want is someone you wouldn’t mind getting beaten up by. And I think the obvious choice here is Gina Carano, because she’s super pretty.
Provided she didn’t pull out at the last minute for some never-revealed lady troubles, here’s how I see the fight going down: I keep my guard high to weather her striking. At some point, she over-commits on a punch and I slip it and bull rush her, using my size advantage and rugby experience to drag her to the ground. From there, I’d posture up in her guard, using the palms of my hands cupped against her ample breasts to support my weight. Being careful not to give up an arm bar, I’d rain down kisses from the top and grind my boner into her crotch until the cops came. I’m telling you, Penthouse, it was the craziest night of my life. Wait, what were talking about again?
There have only been a few times in my life that I wanted to jump into my television to join the broadcast and kick somebody’s ass. When I was a kid, it happened during the movie Bloodsport when
Ogre Ray Jackson got his ass handed to him by Chong Li. Not that I was going to be able to help him since I was a child, but dammit I was going to try. Another instance of my warped suspended reality happens practically every other weekend because Top Gun is a staple on all syndicated channels. Each time the volleyball scene comes on, I want to step through my TV screen and knock everybody out. Not just Cruise or Kilmer or the guy that lowered the net so 5’ 2” Maverick would look like he could actually spike the ball. I want to throw haymakers on all the extras, cameramen and even the craft services personnel for being part of that steaming pile of elephant shit.
Though both instances have made we want to enter the boob-tube, I have never had the feeling overwhelm me like it did while watching UFC 83 during the Nate Quarry vs. Kalib Starnes fight. If you don’t remember that contest, Starnes basically back-pedaled at a brisk pace for the entire 15 minutes and (much like Maverick after he killed Goose) he refused to engage. It got to the point that Quarry was high-step running in comedic fashion and even went “full retard” by crossing his arms in front of his head while punching himself in the face. That is why, if I could fight any MMA athlete, I would pick Kalib Starnes.
For any of the CP writers to say we would stand a snowball’s chance in hell of coming out victorious against a professional mixed martial artist — with the exceptions of Karma, Elias Cepeda, and Chris Colemon’s upcoming bout against Bob Sapp — is crazy talk. However, if Starnes showed up for a reverse track meet while I was across the cage, I might have a chance. I, too, have the ability to jog at a mediocre pace for five minutes per round, and I could totally do that with a one-minute rest in between. Though most likely he would turn my face into goulash.
I initially wanted to fight Georges St. Pierre because I am pretty sure he smells excellent and his skin is silky smooth from all the moisturizing, but upon further review, I think I may just ask GSP if he wants to play some beach volleyball. In the meantime, I will be vigorously training five minutes at a time for my anticipated scrap with Kalib Starnes.
Completely unrelated, but you know what I’d ban if I could? Well, duh: Putting your organization’s champion in non-title fights in his weight class. But you know what else I’d ban? Fighters who justify picking easy fights by rambling on about “how much it would mean to fight a legend,” or “because he was my hero and it would be an honor to fight him,” or any similar nonsense. Just admit it: You aren’t out to prove how much you’ve progressed by beating your hero when he’s past his prime; if anything, you’re regressing by fighting an older, less-diverse fighter than your last opponent. You don’t see your childhood hero — you see an easy W.
Now, what’s our topic again? Right, a fighter I would fight if given the opportunity. For me, it would have to be Ken Shamrock. I say this not because he seems like a total jerkoff. Not because he played a major role in sinking EliteXC with his “sparring accident” the day of the fight. Not because of his near-involvement with the freak show of the decade, or that I think Chael Sonnen may have a point about Ken Shamrock playing smaller promotions, or because he has tried to blame everybody but himself for his steroid usage, or even because Ken Shamrock went on a poorly-planned rant against MMA media types like myself.
Rather, I would fight Ken Shamrock because the fight would be special for me. See, the first MMA article I ever published was a guest contribution to CagePotato on October 18, 2010, about Ken Shamrock’s victory over Jonathan Ivey in my current city of Lafayette, Louisiana. That article was my first step towards eventually getting hired, where I’ve quietly been ruining your opinions of this website ever since. Because of that, Shamrock will always hold a special place in my heart, and it would be an honor and a privilege to be in the cage with him.
Oh, and one more thing: I am exempt from my opening rant because I clearly said fighter, not writer. Suck it, Dan Hardy. *drops microphone*
I’m going to be completely honest with you guys right now. “Do I want to be a fucking fighter?” Shit no. It looks like a lot of work, and that’s not really my bag. Now, had this question been asked to me in my late teens or early twenties, I probably would have said Fedor, Hendo, or something as equally stupid. You see, in those days I wouldn’t have turned down a fight with any living creature on the planet, be it an MMA champ, a grizzly bear, or God damn Superman. At that point in my life there was no such thing as kryptonite for this guy. Well, I was wrong. Two construction injuries requiring surgery later, and I’m less of a Spartan and more of a walking bag of meat just trying to survive another alcohol fueled week. What I’m trying to say is, I’ve learned my limits and that has certainly helped to fuel my decision for this week’s Roundtable.
Which brings me to my choice in Dana White. Yes, the question was “which MMA Fighter do you want to fight,” but as I illustrated above I’ve got around the same chance of winning a fight against an actual MMA fighter as Bob Sapp does. [Ed. note: And that's Sapp reference #4, which means we've met our quota.] Beyond that, as General Douglas MacArthur famously said, “Rules are mostly made to be broken and are too often for the lazy to hide behind”. See, I’m just trying not to be lazy. Also, as the face of the biggest MMA promotion in the world, he should be eligible for this type of list in my opinion.
Why Dana White? Is it because he wants to “fuck” my favorite comedic MMA site, because he plays favorites with fighters (see: Dan Hardy, Jon Jones, etc.), because he is single handedly the worst ambassador for our beloved sport, that stupid smug face he always has, or a combination of those, and many more reasons? I’m leaning toward the latter. Do I think I would win? Highly doubtful, but I’d give it a try.
In the vein of breaking down this non-fictional fight, I have an inch or two on him, but he has at least 50-60 pounds on me. I’m lanky as they come so he would have the reach, but when we look at styles, I would give his elite pedigree in boxerciseing the nod over my semi-pro style of bar-fighting. Endurance is a bitch.
So yes, my choice is Dana White, if only because he is the biggest name that I might have a chance against, and he pisses me off. While this would probably turn out to be a regrettable statement, I’d even fight just to get Cage Potato’s short-lived press credentials back. Although, I would settle for him just making all main events five rounds, and not just a select few. The ball’s in your court, Mr. President.