just as resolutions that accompany them.

Chances are some of the resolutions have gone up in smoke trailing the residue of fireworks that marked the beginning of this year even if we’re still in its infant stage.

 There are things that are beyond our control, like the weather for example. A sudden downpour can put a damper on our mood & for those who resolved to rid themselves of a frustrating year, find themselves left with little patience especially when the frustration is targeted at Mother Nature in this example. What happens to our resolution/s then?

 A resolution is a commitment much like an MMA athlete’s daily routine of trainings, diet plans & everything associated with the sport. It is a commitment, in the fighter’s case, to perfect their craft & even though the term perfection is debatable nonetheless, they dedicate time, effort, blood sweat & tears to their art. The commitment exhibited requires a level of self-discipline that will be tested in & out of the cage. Not every fighter is a full-time professional where you are literally paid to live such a disciplined lifestyle but the same level of commitment can be seen in those who are holding day jobs – & still paying for classes – yet by virtue of discipline, determination & positive dogged stubbornness, they turn challenges & negativity into motivation.

 That same discipline can be a very powerful tool, when channeled to other aspects of our lives. It can bring about positive changes, elevate us to greater heights & most importantly, even see us through our resolutions. A resolution can be as simple as making sure one wakes up each morning & do not miss a day of a run or not to hog the free weights at the gym. In the build-up to his fight against Max Baer, Joe Louis was asked by a boxing journalist what he would do if Baer knocked him down.

 “I’d get up,“ he replied. (Beyond Glory : Joe Louis vs Max Schmeling & A World On The Brink – David Margolick )

 Whatever our resolutions may be for this year, let us not forget the discipline that should come with them & come year’s end, even if we couldn’t fulfill all of them but if we know we had given it everything we’ve got then perhaps we can sincerely say, it has been a happy (new) year.

 We were born to fight.

As students struggling with mathematical concepts in classrooms, as adults vying for jobs, as the gravely ill-stricken person fighting for his last breath, we are locked in battles in one way or another. In sport, it is the drive to succeed and overcome that pushes a man to new heights.

“The track shimmers and curls off like a thick gray snake in the sun…”

It is every athlete’s goal to tackle a great distance, just to know that they can do it, and when it’s an endless track, to know how far that they can go.

Bad Blood: The Secret Life Of The Tour De France by Jeremy Whittle exposed the rampant illegal doping practices in the professional cycling circuit. The initial denials and feigned ignorance by those accused were staggering – even comical to a point – but as the adage goes, the truth hurts, and it seemed the yellow jersey was reduced to nothing more than a piece of stained cloth.

This practice, as we know, is not confined to the world of cyclists. It usually starts out as the need to alleviate a pain, only to spiral into a myriad of drug concoctions, so giddy a journey that at times it seems being a professional athlete could guarantee you an education in the field of pharmaceuticals. In a whirlwind blur, you could be on the peak of K2 today and be 6 feet under tomorrow. What rise, what prize, what price.

“We wuz robbed!” -Joe Jacobs after his prized fighter, Max Schmeling, lost to Jake Sharkey for the boxing heavyweight title.

The sentiment extends to those who felt cheated, fans in particular, with the realization that their sporting idols achieved success with the help of tainted needles. Fellow athletes must have felt the same, knowing that one bad apple is all it takes to tarnish the whole crop. From the early days of corruption – throwing fights in boxing for example – it seems we have advanced the art of manipulation by altering our very own blood. In essence, athletics has become a Blood Sport.

With the advancement of medical technology, the chances of detection may increase, the shame and notoriety of being caught may be a deterrent to some, but there will always be the rest, who believe in the luck (sic) of the draw, that it can never happen to them.

Suffice it to say, in the pursuit of excellence, doping in sports will be here to stay.

As athletes, the sacrifices we’ve had to make are immense. Be it in terms of time, sweat, money, and even family, there are success stories as much as there have been failures. The common thread that binds us all is, perhaps, the blood that we’ve ‘poured’ in the gym, to the track. The very blood that keeps us alive to live another day, to give it all in our chosen sporting field, to see how far we can go. In the process, some of us will realize our dreams, yet for those who fall just short, the disappointment that comes shouldn’t be allowed to linger. The very blood that kept you going will again drive you to fight on as long as you keep an honest days work.

Winners may be decided by the amount of illegal chemicals that’s pumping through one’s veins. It seems that true champions are the ones who can go to sleep soundly knowing that they’ve given it all for the day, knowing that the next time they bleed…

.. it’s clean.

As published in http://lockflow.com/article_view.php?id=5043 ( 21st Jan 2010 )

- Facing Ali , Stephen Brunt

I managed to convince the doctor to let me accompany him on his routine nocturnal patrol known as the Narc Round, which entails doing the rounds and administering medications, if needed, to the residents of the hospital. He wasn’t too keen initially, but I guess if you have the equivalent in frequent-flier miles of hospital stay like yours truly, it does have its convincing “perks.”

 Learn to endure.

Fighting out of Wales, Johnny Owen was a young boxer who stood out in the ring. The subject of discussions – ridicule even – amongst pundits & promoters usually centered around his physique or the lack of it, to be precise. He had ears that would’ve been more of a liability in the MMA context, a body that would have swung bets in Royce Gracie’s favor pre-fight night at UFC 1. He was so frail-looking and fragile that some folks would curse the people responsible for putting him in the ring.

He elicited pity and generated ridicule en masse from those who were seeing him for the first time. Out of the ring, his reserved, unabashed shyness yet friendly demeanor seemed typical attributes for a boy born and raised in a coal-mining town, known for its assembly of choirs, but this young lad from Merthyr Tydfil exuded strength and a level of stamina in the ring that would leave even the most ardent of boxing detractors in awe after watching him, Johnny Owen, fight.

We all have our heroes, those who inspire us to move up to the next level and push onward in difficult times, to dig deep. They may have come into our lives per through literature or videos, but their presence is anything but superficial and fleeting. In the field of MMA, there are more than just a few heroes, from the timeless Randy Couture to the free-spirit that was the late Evan Tanner. Even that black belt at your gym, who’s never too smug to partner anyone in need, is a hero of the sport.

Inspiration is everywhere.

As athletes in our chosen sport, inspiration can come from beyond the gym walls and beyond the battleground. We can always draw from something to better our game. Text from literature like Sun Tzu’s The Art Of War has been (re)quoted by many from the field of business to sports, the epic battle of Leonidas and the 300 against the vast Persian army has spawned many personal inspirational tales as well. Even in seeking motivation, we should never pigeonhole ourselves. Inspiration is not about one sport; it’s about an event. Watching the sun rise, for example, can be as moving as watching your sports team defy all odds with a great comeback.

It is the rousing emotion evoked as we bear witness to an event that inspires our hearts to beat with purpose.
The pressure of competition can be overwhelming. It can be the undoing of everything you’ve built up en route. For in a fight even with the din of the crowd and the familiar voices from your corner, it is the sound of your breathing that is most deafening. In that moment, you are in a solitude that can only be understood by the person across from you.

To push through that loneliness, that solitude, requires inspiration. Your battle, in turn, will inspire others.

The opening paragraph of this article was my interpretation as I watched the video of Johnny Owen taking on Lius Pintor for the WBC World Bantamweight title. Owen defied the majority’s perception of his chances. Despite fighting in a rather hostile venue, he held more than his own against a defending champion who was the crowd favorite and a well-known slugger. Late in the 12th round, with only 25 seconds to go, a right by Pinto sent Owen crumpling to the canvas for the second time – in that round – unconscious. Owen never regained consciousness. He went into a coma. For the next few weeks, he was engaged in the fight of his life—the fight for his life.

On November 4th 1980, John Richard Owens succumbed. He was 24.

Inspiration comes from even beyond the grave.

*The Big If : The Life and Death of Johnny Owen by Rick Broadbent

- as published on  http://www.lockflow.com/article_view.php?id=4936 ( 26th Oct 2009 )

The term Greco-Roman - according to dictionary.reference.com – “as an adjective means of or having both Greek and Roman characteristics.”

Throughout time and among different civilizations, battles and wars have been fought. Some skirmishes go unrecorded while others are permanently inked and handed down through the generations as the subject of study and immortalized in films.

Most were fought on the battlefields between the armies of kingdoms but there were those fought on a celestial level between gods. One such famous battle forever etched in the annals of mythology was that of Zeus and the Titan Cronus. Not only was this battle between gods, nor was it only a dispute between a son and his father, but it was also about the fighting art form that was applied - Wrestling.

The ancient Greeks held Wrestling in high regard, to them it was more than just a sport. It was a science and to a large extent even considered a divine art. During Roman times its practitioners ranged from young aristocrats to soldiers and shepherds. Such was the stature and popularity of the sport that in 1512 – 2 years after the first book was printed – a German artist Albrecht Dürer, came out with the first wrestling manual in color.

Wrestling took on a new appearance in 1848. A French showman by the name of Jean Exbroyat, upon creating the first modern wrestling circus troupe, established a new style of wrestling known as ‘Flat Hand Wrestling‘ or ‘French Wrestling‘. Exbroyat established a new rule where holds beneath the waist were forbidden. Only the upper body and the use of hands as attacking tools were allowed, maneuvers that lead to painful torsions were forbidden. Thus a new style sprung from the form of Freestyle Wrestling that had been in wide practice prior.

As French influence spread throughout Europe in the 1800’s, so did this new style of wrestling. Professional matches were held all over Europe from the Austrian Hungarian Empire to Italy and even to Russia; the Czar of Russia was known to have awarded 5,000 Francs as a prize for the winner of tournaments he organized.

Such was the popularity of the sport that by the end of the 19th century – even though most English speaking countries on the European continent were not receptive to this new style- it was still arguably the most popular sport. It was an Italian wrestler by the name of Basilio Bartoli, wanting to underline its ancient roots, who coined the term for this style. A name which still stands, Greco Roman Wrestling.

Today, this form/style, Greco Roman Wrestling can be found from the Collegiate level all the way up to the world stage, The Olympics. Greco Roman Wrestling has been a part of the Modern Olympics since it was registered in the 1896 Athens Games. It was only absent during the Paris Games in the year 1900.

Greco Roman Wrestling has come a long way since its conception as part of a circus program. In these modern times, the victor of a worldwide competition is celebrated as a hero in his homeland.

- as published on http://www.no-gi-grappling.com/greco-roman-wrestling.html ( 17th October 2009 )

We cannot erase events that has taken place in our lives. The exhilaration of triumphs,  indifference of the mundane and the tears of defeats. For if we could, that would render living, pointless.

The recent tsunami devastation of idyllic Samoa left me paralyzed. Even though in time the pain will heal nonetheless the emotional scar tissue will serve as a reminder of how fragile life is. I teared and mourn for the land of my birth and for the loss of those dear to me while my grief extends to the nameless faces whose lives shall forever be changed with their loss. Stark absences made permanent with the receding tide leaving only hollowed hearts of those still breathing. Nothing can prepare you for a calamity of such magnitude.

What has it got to do with MMA? Everything.

As athletes of the sport, we are drilled in the various fighting arts techniques. The myriad of styles put together not only serves us when needed but it is also a form of education. We learn about the differences and the similarities, we understand the mechanics of each individual style and we apply what we’ve learned onto the bigger stage. Even for those who do not partake in competitions, what we learned in the gym, we apply in our daily lives. Knowledge may be taught in a singular way but it is re-applied in various forms.

‘ The body, if it is well conditioned, begins to work by itself and that will save you in the moment when you need it most ‘   – The Big If ( Life And Times of Johnny Owen ).

While the above holds true but to know is not enough. The hardest part is to apply that knowledge. You may have been in a situation where things are not going the way as you expected, say in a fight. This is where your body takes over as your mind starts to succumb to the easy way out, to surrender. Trust your body, trust yourself for the hours/days/months you’ve spent in the gym, sweating buckets and bleeding pints will get you through another round. The conditioning you were put through, will hold you together. The strength of a fighter lies both in the mind and body. In tandem, these can propel you to another level, be it in the gym or in an actual competition. Yet a spanner thrown into the spokes and how you deal with it, will set you apart from the ordinary.

You have to trust yourself, remind yourself that the sacrifices you’ve had to make were what got you here. Whatever failures you’ve had are to make you a better fighter. Once the fight is over and silence envelopes the very stage that was filled with a cacophony of sounds not so long ago, your will still be fighting. You will find a different kind of fight in your personal lives and in the world outside of the ring.

That’s when your true conditioning is tested and though nothing can prepare you for setbacks that Life can – and will – throw at you, know that you can overcome.

The people of Samoa are in mourning and deep grief. Samoans are known to always have a ready smile in reciprocation and appreciate every minute of this gift called Life. During difficult times, they can be relied upon in a call for arms. They’ve been conditioned from young to love God, family and friends. It is this conditioning that I know, will pull them through this difficult period. Just like MMA athletes, conditioning is what will save you during times of need.

In the face of adversity know that you will pull through, the people of Samoa will as well and so will I

Trust.

- as published on Lockflow Lifestyle : http://lockflow.com/article_view.php?id=4971 ( 3rd Nov 2009 )

‘ When two fighters meet in the ring, the fighter with the greater WILL prevails every time unless the other man’s skills are so superior that his will is never tested’

On Feb. 11, 1990, James ‘Buster’ Douglas erased Mike Tyson’s aura of invincibility. He dethroned Tyson with a knockout, ending the reign of a champion known for his intimidating ferocity in the ring. Years later in 2005, after Tyson’s TKO defeat at the hands of Kevin McBride, where the fight was stopped after the sixth round, Tyson admitted that his career had been over since 1990. Perhaps the most heartbreaking line to have ever been said by someone who at age 20 became the heavyweight champion of the world, came after the McBride fight. “I don’t have the guts to be in this sport anymore,” Tyson said.

Iron Mike had broken.

We’ve all had moments like that, when the battered body overcomes the mind, and we want to quit, hang up our gloves for good. For every Tyson, there is a fighter who has made an epic comeback.

In those stories, you will find a common theme. The will to dig deep and reach for that hidden strength, the determination to not let a setback stick oneself permanently in the mud. Their experiences translate into life lessons for us, but we too have our own personal experiences that we draw from when in need. These experiences range from the bitterness of a defeat to the jubilation of success. Those experiences motivate us.

Every moment in life is a chance to learn. For me personally, lessons learned through difficult times are the ones that are inked permanently in my mind. When the chips are down and you somehow manage to make the most of your hand and move on–those are the moments that will make you stronger.

It’s easy to fight an opponent you can see, and it’s never easy fighting yourself. Yet in that struggle, that fight that takes places not on any physical platform but in your mind, that battle is the ultimate fight, and you can emerge victorious if you dig deep enough, believe in yourself and have faith in your strength. Your mettle will be tested, but you will prevail for you must remember that when it comes down to it, you’re only fighting yourself, whose skills you know best.

You already have the strength and the skill, all you need is your will.

You will not quit.

- as published on  http://www.lockflow.com/article_view.php?id=4862 ( 22nd Sep 2009 )

‘ Treasure ‘ doesn’t necessarily refer to something material.

From the first time I sampled the taste of an open fingered glove – albeit at the expense of a blackened eye – I was hooked on Mixed Martial Art, commonly known as MMA. I began to wander about other practitioners of the sport, Gladiators.

None stood out more than one Evan Loyd Tanner, for me. To say he was an inspiration would be stating the obvious but somehow it wasn’t even close to expressing the gratifying impact  his life had on mine. Perhaps being born in the same year as he, had something to do with it, maybe in a kind of (almost) kindred way. After all, it was quiet an event filled 1971 – Jim Morrison was found dead in his rented apartment’s bathtub in Paris, France while another (in) famous celebrity, Charles Manson was sentenced to death and in fightsport history, Joe Frazier defeated Muhammad Ali in Madison Square Garden on March 8 in what was dubbed as ‘ The Fight of The Century ‘, rendering the then invincible Ali, his first professional loss.

Or maybe, it was just the plain simple fact that I knew him.

I’ve been gathering my gear for this adventure for over a month,

not a long time by most standards, but far too long for my impatient nature.

Evan dropped out of college because he said, it didn’t give him the ‘real world’ education that he was looking for. There were times during my school days when I felt the same, somehow every lesson seemed routine once your timetable is filled up. God knows just how many times, I wanted to blow off classes for the day and head out to somewhere, nowhere, anywhere. Not that the lessons weren’t educational, they were but they weren’t what I was seeking. Perhaps I was impatient for lessons that only Life could offer.

He traveled across the country after dropping out, as I did ( upon graduation ). Being on the open road, experiencing what’s out there even if most times they’re unpredictable, is what I love. The people I’d meet along the way would have a place in my mental scrapbook. I can just imagine, the things that he must have seen and the people he met along the way and I wander what it must be like to be one of them. What it must be like to share a beer as we talk about anything under the sun and everything in the cosmos, one free spirit to another. Then we’ll part ways after, on our steel horses perhaps crossing path at some isolated gas station or even somewhere along the milky way.

I had gotten to know him while I was going through a difficult phase in my life. I was struggling to find something to keep me going, that elusive holy grail called Hope. Evan taught me that I need not look far. He had plans for a foundation, a mixed martial arts camp, for disadvantaged athlete and young men at risk. 12 athletes would be housed together where they were to receive trainings in the sport. It was no ordinary shelter, it was Evan’s house. I was working with kids at that time and I realized then, indirectly he had taught me to look inwards, perhaps it was some kind of fortuitous cosmic intervention.

Today, I ran to the store to pick up a few things, and with the lonesome, quiet desert thoughts on my mind, I couldn’t help but be struck with their brutally stark contrast to my current surroundings…

As surreal that Evan may have come across during interviews at times, his decision to go into the Californian desert ‘ to do some camping, ride the motorcycle, and shoot some guns ‘ was real. Concerns were raised when the media got wind of it and  I would dare a guess that he was aware of the possible dangers that could lie ahead but his inquisitive imagination coupled with his insatiable appetite for adventure and exploration was enough to see him packing for the trip.

On September 8 2008, I received a call from a friend of mine. Evan Tanner’s body was found dead. Apparenty, he succumbed to the merciless Californian desert heat.

I chose to omit his achievements, losses and comebacks in the ring as I was writing this for those are permanently documented in the record books and can be dug up by anyone. Instead, I was trying to put down in words, my gratitude towards this man, who in his own way by virtue of being himself, made me feel that I am not alone. That all the decisions I’ve made in my life – even the ones that turned out bad – are what makes me an individual. In the process, he became a friend. It’s comforting to know that somewhere out there in this vast concrete plains, there is a voice that you can relate to.

I had wanted to write to him many times but the words could never flow, on hindsight, re-reading what I’ve written here didn’t quite fully express my sentiments either. Nonetheless, it came form the heart.

Evan Tanner stood out because he had the guts to embrace himself, he wasn’t just a man, he was an individual. It is not the gold belt that he used to wear in the ring that I will remember him for but instead, it’s the wings on his back that tattooed his headstone in my memory.

The same wings that gave him flight to be a free spirit…

“I’m hoping that very soon I’ll be sitting out in the quiet of the desert beneath a deep blue midnight sky, listening to the calm desert breeze.

- Evan Loyd Tanner ( 1971 – 2008 )

… to the very end.

( Quotes reference : http://www.spike.com/blog/treasure-hunting-in/67570 )

]]> http://tom71bak.wordpress.com/2009/09/20/the-power-of-one/feed/ 0 tom71bak Evan Tanner R.I.P. http://tom71bak.wordpress.com/2009/09/11/we-grapple/ http://tom71bak.wordpress.com/2009/09/11/we-grapple/#comments Fri, 11 Sep 2009 05:11:02 +0000 psykocowboy http://tom71bak.wordpress.com/?p=9 ]]>

“We stood toe to toe, feeling each other out…”

Then in one swift blinding move, I was on the mat on all fours and before I could figure out what was happening, I was staring at the ceiling. My limbs were like an alien entity, detached of their need to function as a whole, ‘defying’ I reitirate. A kind of bodily perestroika was happening, if this was politics. It took a while before the brain registered, no doubt urged by a searing pain.

I had just been grappled into submission.

I spent the rest of the afternoon watching the experts go at it while my limbs cordially got re-acquainted.  As I  marvelled at the different ways a body could be contorted, I realize grappling had always been a part of our lives. Growing up, most of us have probably wrestled-fun  our siblings or have seen the kids go at it the playground, settling juvenile disputes. We grapple with each other in a gym, we grapple concepts in schools, we grapple with challenges that life presents everyday.

We grapple.

Watching grown men engaging each other in various holds, out muscling out manouvering the other to get into that dominant position while at the same time taking precautions not to let their offensive enthusiasm shortchange their defense, my admiration for these modern day gladiators is undeniably second to none. The battle scars ( see – cauliflower ear etc  ) are testimonies overshadowed only by sacrifices these warriors make, just to make it to trainings at times. At training sessions what awaits would make lesser men run with their tails tucked in between their legs.

The room that they’ll end up in for those punishing sessions do not differ from the one I was in that afternoon. The walls echoes the painful grimace of every submission they succumbed to as much as they reverberate with joyous cries of a successful leglock. It doesn’t end there, for the act repeats throughout the learning process for the duration of the session. When the day is done, most will go back to their lives outside of the gym for not all are fortunate enough to call this a profession but what binds them together is that they will all be back another day. That separates these men from the ordinary.

It’s been a number of years since that afternoon, the day I was introduced to Submission Grappling but each time I’m back at the gym, I’m still learning. At times I would spot someone new, who would be sitting on the fringe, watching perhaps absorbing. I would smile and hope that they see what I saw then. I hope they listen to the walls.

Life can be hard at times but if we stick in there and grapple, we’ll be allright because…

We grapple.

- as published on http://www.no-gi-grappling.com/grappling.html ( 10th September 2009 )