UFC Eulogy - 128: Shogun v Bones Jones

Well what can I say?I'll just get this out of the way: Bones Jones is a freak.

OK,I'll come back to this point in a second. First I will write the review of the rest of the PPV similar to how I watched. Impatient and anxious about the main event.

It wasn't a terrible PPV. The main event was a spectacle and there was some good action beforehand, but I did find myself a little disengaged with the earlier fights. It may have just been an off day for me - tired, beers, footy on the adjacent screen - but I can barely remember the specifics of the other fights.

Cro Cop v Brendan Schaub was an entertaining fight. He did what he does best. He brought the fight to his opponent and threatened with an all round solid game but he still couldn't do what he used to do best...knock guys outSchaub landed a right hook that seemed to catch Mirko behind the ear and he dropped awkwardly and it was followed by a series of cringe-inducing replays

Marquardt v Dan Miller was a snooze fest. Sucked momentum out of the PPV and in the end Marquardt won but who cares. He is slipping down PPV ladder and might be headlining fight nights in the future.

Jim Miller v Kamal Shalorus was an entertaining fight. I haven't seen these two much if at all and Jim proved he is one to watch. I really can't get over the depth and variety of the Lightweight division. Good luck to whoever runs the ranking system for it.

My first Bantamweight bout. This would be interesting, more so because apart from the more committed MMA fans there will be plenty of UFC fans who don't recognise or buy PPVs based on the new WEC guys. So that means these guys are at a pivotal point of their careers in the octagon and how they market themselves outside of it. Faber came with plenty of hype but struggled through the first round. He did adjust and fought with plenty of flair that the little guys offer and in the end it was a decent decision bout. So I'm gonna stick to the fence before I commit to my maiden favourite Bantamweight.

So now to the big one. I was tipping and hoping for a Shogun victory beforehand but just the visual size difference alone would have been warning enough for most fans, but for me it was the first takedown that filled me with a sense of dread. Jones manhandled Shogun and then imposed himself on top and did some damage while draining Shogun of significant energy - by the first round bell he looked gassed. The stand up was a similar story. Jones' reach nullified anything Shogun could throw at him and on the not so rare occasion when Jones made a mistake, Shogun looked powerless to capitalise. At one point he had his back and dropped down to try take a leg but seemed to slide off weakly. Another was an attempted sweep or reversal that barely made Jones budge. Eventually an exhausted Rua was felled by a piercing body blow and a knee on the way down, tapping the mat as Bones Jones strode away to take in his victory.

So where do we go from here? Every sport has eras of domination; as do the weight divisions within the UFC: Silva, GSP, BJ Penn, Ortiz, Matt Hughes. When someone brings a game that is naturally a cut above the rest. Whether it is natural ability, work ethic, technique, etc. it is usually good enough to require years of training to develop a fighter to overcome it.

But one thing more common than dominant eras is making the call too early. Brock Lesnar wasn't meant to be the man atop the mountain. He was the Mountain. But in his two title defences he was rocked by Carwin and then destroyed by Cain Velasquez. Now people, myself included, are unable to see who could beat Cain but he hasn't made one defence yet either. The Light Heavyweight division for sometime now has been like hot potato with title belt; before Shogun we had Lyoto Machida, Rashad Evans, Forrest Griffin, and Rampage Jackson who were all convincing champs. But the cream of this even playing field seemed to have risen to the top with Shogun. A man of ample potential finally exuding it in a demolition of Machida.

But now we have to ask: Who will beat Bones Jones? Is anyone physically capable? Rashad Evans is next up and good luck to him because I love him but a cynical side of me suggested that his statements about moving to the Middleweight division if Jones became champ had less to do with friendship and more to do with inside info on the next big thing. At the moment Bones Jones is a marketing dream but Dana White may be worried of Anderson Silva syndrome where the competition are so far below that the fights are tougher to market. Admittedly he is American and much more aggressive tactically, and the more I think about it the more I want to see Rashad or Rampage or Shogun rematch or Machida or even the lovable Forrest Griffin have a go. It does seem like it will be 5 easy title defences but with UFC you really never know so in the end, after the devastation, I am pretty excited about Jones' next fight.

- Eden

Things to Yell While at the Footy

So it is that time of year again: Footy season! And with record numbers in memberships and season tickets the crowds should be bigger and better than ever. Whether you are a first timer or a 300 game veteran from before the war or whether you would simply like to touch up on your vocabulary before performing your duties as grandstand coach/referee/tactician/commentator/motivational speaker/expert opinionist/bogan footy fan – this is a must read!

Here are a few of the basic phrases which will help you enjoy your first game of the season to the fullest.

Drop it – a split second before the opposition player catches the kick off.

Smash him! – When he doesn’t drop it.
*Variation – Hit him

Get off him – when dominant tackles start to get on your nerves.
*Alternate use – when your player acts like a fish out of water under the weight of the defender

Offside – when you are behind the posts with no lateral point of reference at all and are just desperate for a penalty.

Get em onside – when your team’s wingers scoot out of dummy half but only gain 3m
*For extra emphasis: Get em onside, ref!

Six again! – You saw them touch it!
*Remember to wave you fist sideways above your head. Pivot from the elbow for perfect technique

Just call it yourself, you idiot! – When you know the opposition scored but the ref goes to the video ref anyway, in effect giving the opposition fans twice as many chances to celebrate

What? – Confusion over a decision

Tackle him! – when you’re not sure if your team remembers the fundamental forms of defence

Go. Go! GO! – Line break!

What are you even here for? – Always directed at touch jud- I mean sideline official

Shepherd – I mean who actually says obstruction?

What!?- Another terrible decision. Confusion is increasing.

Benefit (of the doubt) – For learned watches of the game who can predict the video refs every decision

Run Forward – When your winger or centre covers 60m sideways

Forward – Usually said in unison with 1000 other people in the stadium (usually not including the ref)

40/20 – when you have that divine premonition of a 40/20 even before it leaves the player’s boot

WHAT! – No confusion here. The ref is a cheat.

Hold it! – The basketball carry 20m out from your own line

Ref’s Call – see: Benefit

Use it! – When an overlap develops but the front rower spots a gap

C’mon…- Deflated after 3 chances at the opposition goal line. Somehow they always seem to know the inside-ball-to-tired-prop play that was worked on all week

Intercept – When things are getting desperate. Usually after 3 consecutive drop outs

Various Expletives – This would require a second article

Would’ve won if the ref wasn’t such a [see next article] idiot – Yes that bad call in the 47th minute sparked the 30 point massacre

So I hope this has helped refresh your memory. Feel free to add a few of your own.

- Eden

UFC Eulogy - 126: Silva v Belfort

There was strong possibility going into this PPV that I was going to miss out because it snuck up on me. But after reading the card and seeing some hype footage I was hooked in. It was a strong PPV overall though not up to the standard of late -we have been blessed with some high quality events lately. As I watched the fights I got to thinking (slightly annoying now that I have started writing about each PPV I have fallen into the reviewer’s trap of sacrificing the moment for a thought) that the word freak is no longer a compliment or hype building adjective in UFC, it is almost a requirement. You have Cain Velasquez with his freakish cardio, BJ Penn and his freaky elastic joints, Chris Leben and the freakish look on his face after taking a KO punch and coming back even harder, GSP’s freaky accent, the freaky skills of some of the lightweights and of course Brock Lesnar who is a freak of nature. The sport is in constant evolution, such that the freak tag is always there being justifiably thrown around. It doesn’t just sell PPVs it is often the only way to describe some of the things that happen in UFC.

126 had its fair share of freaks. The love hate relationship that fighting fans have with Anderson Silva continues (love finding a way this round); New star on the block Jon Bones Jones displayed another exhibition of sheer athleticism and power; and even Carlos Rocha was being lauded for his freakish Ju Jitsu ability which looked like poetry in the first round (so tragically absent from the next two). Anderson’s jaw dropping kick was a special thing to see (for those who didn’t blink) and he holds onto his records and number one pound for pound tag until that awesome day when Chael is allowed back in the Octagon. Bones Jones made Darth Bader look like he was wishing he could use the force (too much?) and his natural flair inside the Octagon has won him a legion of new fans to add to the other new legion and, belive it or not a title shot in the light heavyweight division.

Fan Rant Tennis

SIX

I love all sports but tennis has to be one of my favourites. It has so many unique features that give it a unique postion in the sporting world. Here a few of the reasons why I love it.

Scoring: Tennis games can go on forever (literally). You could win 1000 points but not even end up with one on the scoredboard. That is because in tennis you have to win to win. I know that sounds obvious, but think of most sports. Usually you can start off on a hot streak and then rest on your laurels, wait until the clock runs out. But in tennis you have to win the last point of the game, set or match to win it. Technically no match is ever over if you can win half the points and if you win the next point you are still in with a chance. The games leading to sets to matches mean that a lot of hard work can often render little reward. Losing a set 7-6 is in essence the same as losing 6-0

Psychology: It is this cool scoring system which gives way to the next cool factor in tennis. The strength of any player’s game lies in the mind games that he is playing with himself and with his opponent. The scoring means that there are certain points that become so critical and someone has to win them. A break point is a rare chance to gain a massive advantage. A set point even bigger. And a match point that isn’t taken in the fourth set of a grand slam final and ends up with a loss in five sets? That’s a killer.

The other side of the psychology is the mano e mano nature of the sport. It is one guy out there (or girl but women’s tennis sucks) versing another. They have no coach pep talk at halftime, no strategic advice. They just have themselves and a racquet (or 20). If you ever watch a match with Lleyton Hewitt you can witness the strange mental effects of momentum swings, self doubt, missing a crucial point, or firing up when all looks lost. Then you watch Roger Federer or Rafael Nadal and you see the benefits of having an insurmountable self belief. They face the big moments with strength and poise and relish any chance to crush an opponents will. Sometime they will go toe to toe with the strengths of an opponent to mess with their heads just like a ju jitsu specialist standing and striking with a boxer.

Live: I also recently witnessed how much fun tennis can be to watch live. It is a different atmosphere to most sports I have ever seen. The way the crowd will remain silent during a point and then fire up once the point is won is strangely respectful. It also has that feel that most sports do when you see them in real life. TV seems to water down contact and speed in every sport and the speed and power of the shots in tennis are no different.

Whether it is straight sets win 6-0 6-0 6-0 or deuce 15 in the 10th game of the fifth set. You gotta love tennis.

- Eden

N.B. Since writing this both Nadal and Federer have lost and I probably won't watch the Australian Open final anymore...

Life's Lessons Learned in League

A few weeks ago I wrote about the rollercoaster ride I have had supporting the Roosters. It was fun recounting the build up to the 02 premiership and a little less fun remembering the 7 years of disappointment that followed. Sharing my story was therapeutic, and the best thing to come from it was to read the responses. I don’t mean the ‘Roosters deserve all the crap they get’ stuff (I’m used to that by now), but the fans from all different teams detailing their own stories of supporting their team through the harsh reality of losing. I could relate to my fellow Rooster fans. I took inspiration from the steely Dogs fans who struggled through 2008. I felt for fans of teams like Cronulla, Parramatta, Souths and St George who are long overdue for a premiership (well, maybe Souths can wait a little longer).

So although I had promised myself that I wouldn’t go through with the stress of attending another match this year, I was inspired by the other fans to get out to the final match against the Cowboys. It was also Fitzy’s last match so I felt obliged, beyond any desire of avoiding the Spoon, to see off this great clubman. I cancelled a shift at work and then asked my brothers and my Dad if they wanted to come. However, they had long abandoned the thought of more pain, adopting a see no evil, feel no evil mentality.

I scolded them not being true fans and it was becoming apparent that, after almost 10 years of seriously attending matches, I would be going to my first game alone. I thought of calling one of my friends to come with and make a fun afternoon out of it, but they were both busy*. Instead I decided to make it like a lonely pilgrimage - proving myself as a fan (I know, just a touch melodramatic). So after a 40 minute train ride and a short walk from Central I arrived at the Football Stadium. I had come to terms with the horror season and was there to show the team, and myself, that I still believed.

Although we could still overtake Cronulla on the ladder, I didn’t even feel we deserved it and doubted that a team with Jonathon Thurston would lose to us. I had no expectations of winning, which was a liberating mindset. Usually I would be full of unwarranted confidence or nervous excitement. But the game kicked off and the small crowd of around 10,000 had such an energy that the team responded. It rivalled the noise and emotion of the 34,000 at the Tigers-Eels blockbuster I was at two weeks earlier. Despite my earlier Zen state of not needing or wanting victory, I had been sucked in. I wanted it more than ever.

We raced out to a 16-0 lead on the back of strong defence and some decent attack – two things we lacked all season. However, the calling card of the 2009 campaign was our inability to play 80 minutes, and after playing 35 minutes of decent football we crumbled and Thurston pounced. It started with a try before halftime and then a two more quick ones after the break. We stayed in it for a while but I, and the other fans at the game, could see the writing on the wall. We crumbled with 10 minutes to go, losing 32-16.

Sitting through that final 10 minutes was tough but I had never left a game early and this was no exception. Especially since I was there for Fitzy first and foremost. It was an emotional send off to a legend. A sad way to farewell his service – another loss and the Spoon to boot. I thought about the terrible referee display. But instead of blaming the refs again I decided to take the view that the team should be able to bounce back from poor decisions. We shouldn't finish the match focusing on negatives. Focus on the positives and the chance to improve. That what the best teams do. And after 80 minutes we weren’t the best team. After 26 rounds we were the worst.

In spite of all the disappointments of the day and the season I had a bittersweet feeling. I could understand the bitter, but why the sweet? I guess I felt liberated that I had witnessed the worst possible scenario. This was as bad as it gets. It’s still hard to explain but I now feel closer to the club, and not in the unhealthy, obsessed way. I have experienced the highs earlier this decade and now I know the true lows. We’d gone through it together and in the end, as George Harrison says, “All Things Must Pass.” I got that Zen mindset back.

Now I am all for learning from all aspects from life, and sport and RL has never been short of an inspiration to me. It displays fighting spirit, pushing physical boundaries and the use of instincts and tactics, but I never expected to find such a refreshing flavour in spoon fed humble pie.

So here I am soaking up the action of one of the best finals series I have witnessed, glad to be a fan of Easts and of the Greatest Game of All.

- Eden

*Joke provided courtesy of Lee Sullivan © Sullivan Jokes 2004

Don’t Gamble With My Emotions! The Plight of the Sports Fan

I’ll preface this by letting you all know that I’m an Eastern Suburbs Roosters fan. For the international subscribers (all one of you), the Roosters are a Rugby League team who are currently coming last in the premiership with 4 rounds to go. That means we are on target to win our first wooden spoon in 43 years, the first in my lifetime. And for a fan these are the times that really test you. Stick by the team in the good times and the bad. That’s what a true fan does.

Now when I say fan I mean it. Not some casual fan who might catch them playing on TV a few times a year. I am a member who possesses ample amounts of merchandise and memorabilia. I read about the team and discuss them and the game online daily. I go to the games and cheer in the hope that my extra support will get them over the line. I share a mutual disdain towards other teams (Souths) based on history, geography and 100 year traditions. My loyalty to players correlates with their loyalty to the team. When they win it brightens up my day, and when they lose…well let’s just say I’m getting better at dealing with this one.

But this is what has got me thinking. Not that we have become the joke of the league and the definition of suck. Not that we were predicting top 4 finishes before the season began and that my favourite player-turned hero, coach and saviour has been sacked in reaction to the shit performance of the team. No, what has me most intrigued is my own evolution as a fan; my attitude and expectations, and my reactions to the constant losing.

It all started back in 2000. I was 13 and had always been a Rooster after inheriting the curse from my father. Before then I was still invested in their fortunes but, as I matured (or at least as I grew older) in my teens, my fandom progressed to newer, deeper levels. In that year I went to ten games including the Grand Final against the Brisbane Broncos in a chance to win for the first time since 1975. The saying that ‘you have to lose a grand final to win one’ is no truer than for the fan. The Roosters had shot their wad the week before and were simply outclassed by Brisbane. But as a young fan, I too wasn’t ready and had unleashed my own proverbial load (a common theme of puberty really), and was not ready to appreciate the spoils of a premiership.

But now I was hooked. Now I wanted that premiership. I knew how sweet it was going to feel. I would cherish it like it were a divine gift, and two years of avid supporting later we got the chance. We crushed the New Zealand Warriors in 2002 in a streak of 12 straight wins that included later claiming the World Club title against English champions St Helens.

The era of the Roosters had begun and I was in the midst of a team regularly touted as the benchmark. Despised by jealous fans of the opposition, and with arch rivals Souths battling out wooden spoon disputes all was good. All was great! Like a drug addict chasing a GF win as sweet as that first hit, I went out supporting my team more than ever. I possessed such assuredness of my team that even when we looked destined to lose the match I wouldn’t flinch. I believed in them and almost every time we would come good. Although Souths were suffering there were other rivalries. An old foe in Penrith faced us in the 2003 Grand Final and the rivalry with Canterbury was at its bitter most boiling point in the 2004 Grand Final.

But these glory years are when I learnt the fate of the sports fan. Unlike in the movies, sport is reality and there is no script and no guaranteed happy ending. I learnt that being a sports fan was gambling. Not with money, but with my own emotional state of mind. Against all the expert predictions, Penrith pulled off one of the great Grand Final wins. And in my hero Brad Fittler’s final match ever Canterbury came back from 6-13 down to win the 2004 final 16-13. That’s right. We made 4 GF in 5 years and won once. This was hard to take. To make the situations worse I had just taken up the teenage pastime of binge drinking (my first drunken experience was the night of the 2003 GF, highlighted by crying, punching the ground and vomiting on Hamish). To date these are still two of the worst days of my life. I was distraught and lost. I spent the majority of the 2005 off season daydreaming of a mythical pass in the final minutes that Fittler receives and runs under the posts to score and win the GF.

But these tough times are always made easier by the good times. In 2005 the Roosters went on to claim the trophy. And again in 2006! Boy was I happy!

Oh wait. Didn’t I say this wasn’t a movie? Oh that’s right, there aren’t guaranteed happy endings. We didn’t win in 2005 or 2006. In fact, we didn’t even make the finals. We actually didn’t make the finals again until last year when we finished fourth only to lose both attempts to progress towards GF glory. And now we are the whipping boys of teams and fans alike who still have that 2009 title to dream about. Now I, and many other keyboard experts, predict the Roosters are going to face a 2010 that very much represents 2009. I am as confident that we will lose now as I was that we would win in 2004. I believe in our ability to snatch defeat while on the brink of victory.

But like I said earlier, these are the times that truly test a fan. And I’m sorry to say that I am failing the test. This year I only went to five games in the first ten rounds and we lost them all and since then I have only dared venture out to see Manly v Parramatta, preferring the neutral perspective to the more intense and stressful Roosters encounters. Rugby League and the Roosters were my Sun, but now I look to other exploits like other sports, music and those cleverly scripted movies to help me enjoy life to the fullest.

They say that a key to happiness is to let go of your sports team. And as I have instinctively withdrawn a notable chunk of my emotional investment in a desperate move to salvage my own sanity, I wonder how much I will prosper when we finally do get that 13th premiership. I wonder whether the happiness I do derive from that victory will be as sweet as it could have been if I remained true to my investments in the face of this grand final crisis…

Go the Chooks!

- Eden (while listening to Who’s Next – The Who)

I dedicate this to the great football club of the Eastern Suburbs and to the fans who have stayed at the game cheering. I promise you I will be back next year full of hope, but I will always remember that you were stronger than me.