Cru Jones Society

 

When we were in college, Senor Limon ordered Pride: Final Conflict 2003 on pay-per-view featuring Quinton “Rampage” Jackson, Chuck Liddell, and Wanderlei Silva, and had planned on inviting his fellow jiu-jitsu dorks over to watch it with him. Unfortunately for him, none of those assholes showed up leaving poor Limon to watch this $50 MMA event with only yours truly, who at the time knew next to nothing about mixed martial arts.

Little did he or I know that this event would spark my interest in UFC-style fighting leading to me paying a cover charge at Dave & Buster’s to watch the Rampage/Liddell rematch, ordering multiple fights on pay-per-view with my own money, and checking Yahoo sports everyday for a new Kevin Iole or Dave Meltzer column. Of which, Kevin Iole’s latest one is a dandy.

Which brings us to right now. Limon wrote an article here on CJS last year called “Why I Love MMA.” We often link to MMA articles in Happy Friday. And just this Monday we asked you in honor of UFC 100 to send us what your fight entrance music would be (send them to staff@crujonessociety.com). C’mon, you know you’ve thought about this… The point is CJS loves itself some good old fashioned fighting.

But I realized we talk about it without actually talking about it. Sure, we’ve mentioned WEC Bantamweight Champion Miguel Angel Torres in no less than four Happy Fridays, and had a post dedicated to the Brock Lesnar/Randy Couture fight, but there are so many other guys to discuss out there as well. So, even though both Miguel Torres and Brock Lesnar are two of my favorites, they will likely take a break from this post. However, I’m pleased to present 5 of E Dagger’s Favorite MMA Fighters and 5 of E Dagger’s Least Favorite MMA Fighters. These are in no particular order.

Let’s start with the guys that make me fucking crazy. Here are five fighters I don’t particularly care for. We’ll keep these nice and short since there’s no need to dwell on the negative and these guys can still beat the fuck out of me anyway on the off chance they read this and we subsequently meet.

Sean “The Muscle Shark” Sherk

This bloated sack of meat tested positive for steroids after defending his lightweight title against Kenny Florian. Then he came back and BJ Penn turned his face into hamburger. Last month Frankie Edgar beat him again. When Sherk isn’t failing drug tests, he’s either throwing the worst looking punches this side of Bart Gunn or boring the crowd to tears by climbing on top of a smaller opponent and laying on him for three rounds. This guy cannot lose enough for me.

Josh “Kos” Koscheck

Koscheck sounds like, acts like, and looks like the meathead jock douche bag you hated in high school. He, his ridiculous bleached blond hair, and his infantile antics actually made me fell sorry for Chris Leben on Season 1 of “The Ultimate Fighter.” And I don’t even like Chris Leben (see below). I enjoy watching people beat up Josh Koscheck.

Chris “The Crippler” Leben

I’m Chris Leben. I drink too much. My fight game consists entirely of a powerful left hand. I whine about my life every chance I get. I have idiotic hair. I took a banned substance and still lost to Michael Bisping. I’m going to lose to Jake Rosholt in August. Bye bye!

Mike “Quick” Swick

Everyone always talks about how Mike Swick is going to have the most exciting fight on the card. And that’s true if you like watching him sloppily roll around on the ground and exchange big, awful, loopy punches with some other codpiece. True, his last two fights ended with knockouts, but that doesn’t excuse the previous four hideously boring snoozefests that went to decision.

And for the record, Mike “Quick” Swick is the wrong fucking order for your name, guy. It should be “Quick” Mike Swick which actually flows off the tongue because you break up the similar vowel sounds as opposed to the way you have it now which makes your mouth stop and start more than an LA rush hour. Not exactly “quick,” is it there, fucko?

Diego “Nightmare” Sanchez

Diego strikes me as a hard worker and a nice enough guy, but if he ever said one interesting thing during an interview, I think I’d die of shock. I realize this is petty as hell, but watching Diego give the same boring interview with the same deer-in-the-headlights look on his face spouting off monotone platitudes makes me just want to see guys downsize his face repeatedly. Reasonably exciting fighter, hideously boring trash talker.

***

And now here are five of my absolute faves. I could watch these guys all day if given half a chance. Honorable mention goes out to (and this is by no means an all-encompassing list): Fedor Emilianenko, Forest Griffin, Roger Huerta, BJ Penn, Urijah Faber, Donald Cerrone, Mike Nickels, and Tamdan McCrory.

Clay Guida

Division: Lightweight
Record: 25-7
Fighting Out Of: Johnsburg, IL
Nickname: “The Carpenter”

Clay Guida often finds himself headlining free shows on Spike TV. Why? Because every time you watch a Clay Guida fight, you know you’re in for an absolute treat. And what better way to capture the casual fan surfing channels than by trotting out the wildman with the huge mane of hair, the tireless work ethic and the chin made of steel.

The first Clay Guida fight I saw, he fought Roger Huerta, another great fighter who might just be too pretty for fighting. In fact, he’s finishing his contract in a couple months and heading to Hollywood to try his hand and movies and modeling. Needless to say, a nancy boy like me was pulling for him. Anyway, Guida comes out, is bouncing around like a caged lion who hasn’t been fed in four days, and bops down to the ring to badass hardcore punk song “New Noise” by Refused. Guida was singing along to every word. This display of punk attitude made me conflicted as to who I should root for.

The fight lived up to expectations and won fight of the night. It was a candidate for fight of the year, and as to who won that award (or even who awards the honor) is still a mystery to me, but from that point on I was a Clay Guida fan. His fights are always entertaining, his cardio rivals that of a Kenyan marathon runner, and he seems impervious to knockouts. In his last fight, Diego Sanchez caught him with a headkick right on the button. Guida fell down, cleared the cobwebs, and kept on battling. In fact, he lost only by split decision after getting dominated by Sanchez in the first round. Guida’s like Ryne Sandberg crossed with the 1989 version of Sting from WCW – he’ll always give you his best, and he’ll do it with crazy style.

Kenny Florian

Division: Lightweight
Record: 13-3
Fighting Out Of: Boston, MA
Nickname: “KenFlo”

Kenny Florian had one of the most sinfully boring fights in recorded history with Sean Sherk for the lightweight title. Turns out that wasn’t his fault. Sean Sherk outweighed him by about 30 lbs. of bloated muscle and two full syringes. So Sherk laid on him for five rounds and won via decision. But that fight always stuck with me and I sort of subconsciously blamed Florian by association for it.

Skip ahead about five fights later with Florian killing the dick out of everyone with elbows sharp as prison shivs (comparison only valid if suckers get shivved in the face) and cutting brilliant heel promos after each of his fights like he’s Chris Jericho talking smack on Monday Night Raw. Florian believes he’s the best and will be the first one to tell you so.

I love that kind of bravado because compared to someone like Diego Sanchez, Florian actually has the brain and the pipes to back it up. When he’s not fighting, he’s one of the co-hosts of ESPN’s MMA talk show. He guest commentates UFC pay-per-views when Joe Rogan’s busy floating in his sensory deprivation chamber. He offers analysis and insight 95% of baseball color men wish they could contribute to their sport. He’s a fucking MMA renaissance man.

And besides, who doesn’t love a great bad guy? Kenny’s got it all working. He’s good-looking. He’s from Massachusetts. He’s cocky. He’s intelligent. And when referring to best lightweight in the world BJ Penn, he said, “BJ’s a master. But sometimes you just have to kill the master” while boos rained down upon him. I can’t wait to watch him try.

Rich Franklin

 

Division: Light Heavyweight
Record: 27-4-0 1 NC
Fighting Out Of: Cincinnati, OH
Nickname: “Ace”

The Ace looked to be unbeatable in the middleweight division until superhuman fighting robot Anderson Silva beat him twice. Franklin knows when he’s licked, so he moved up a weight class to light heavyweight and if his winning ways continue there, he’ll likely contend for the title sometime in 2010.

Ace is a difficult guy not to like. He looks like a boy scout, used to teach public school, and has gone on ESPN and MSNBC as an intelligent ambassador and advocate for mixed martial arts. He’s the embodiment of one of the reasons I prefer MMA to professional boxing. Franklin’s got more than 30 professional fights on his resume, yet still forms a cogent thought, articulates that thought in an erudite manner, and doesn’t look like some thug who’ll carjack you. Listen to a pro boxer after 30 fights and you’re likely to get more stunning intellect from Mush Mouth of “Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids” fame.

This is not to take away from Franklin’s accomplishments in the ring. The man is an absolute killer. 27 wins against only 4 losses tells the story better than I ever could. He pounded the ever-living crap out of noted blowhard Ken Shamrock on the UFC’s first biggest night (Griffin VS Bonnar in a fight that topped 10 million viewers) and made himself a star. He also, albeit temporarily, shut Ken’s huge piehole with a barrage of punches rarely seen outside of Edward Norton disfiguring Jared Leto in Fight Club. Ace is a good guy and a good fighter. He’s like the hermaphroditic porn of the fighting realm – best of both worlds.

Quinton Jackson

 

Division: Light Heavyweight
Record: 30-7
Fighting Out Of: Irvine, CA
Nickname: “Rampage”

Senor Limon relates the best story about Rampage I’ve ever heard, so let’s recount it here. From his “Why I Love MMA” article:

“About 6 years ago, Quinton “Rampage” Jackson, at the time fighting for the Pride organization in Japan, posted a phone number on the forums of a MMA website that I frequented, simply stating that it was a fan line, and that anyone could give it a call anytime, and as long as (in his own words) he wasn’t “fucking, fighting, or sleeping” he would answer it and chat with his fans. This, from the man best known for wearing a large chain around his neck, howling at the moon, and for picking people up and power bombing them head first into the mat. After the post, there was a long string of fans gushing about how Rampage not only answered the phone, but was downright good natured to everyone who had called. I put the number in my cell phone, and a few weeks later while completely hammered in a bar I called. Despite my level of intoxication and the din of the bar in the background. Rampage answered the phone, stating simply, “oh man, you have got to be drunk in a bar right now.” He was right. Despite my blatant intoxication and the fact that at one point I drunkenly handed the phone off to someone else while I ordered another round, Jackson never hurried me off the phone, and was more than happy to answer all of my stupid questions.”

That’s a fucking cool guy. After a brutal loss to Forrest Griffin where Forrest took his title, when asked about the barrage of leg kicks Forrest had unleashed, Jackson said very plainly, “Man, Forrest whupped my ass. That’s okay, I’m going out to get drunk tonight.” He was the most entertaining coach on The Ultimate Fighter, he has one of the best intense stares in all of the business, and the chain around his neck makes me think of WWF 80s superstar the Junkyard Dog.

I will always be a Rampage fan, and he’s coaching TUF again with Rashad Evans in a season I like to call: The Ultimate Fighter – Black to the Future! Tune in to Spike in September.

Brock Lesnar

Division: Heavyweight
Record: 3-1
Fighting Out Of: Minneapolis-St. Paul, MN
Nickname: None. Doesn’t need one. He’s Brock fucking Lesnar.

I know I said we’d covered Brock before and we’d take a break today, but since he’s main eventing the largest PPV in UFC history two days from now, I couldn’t not talk about him again. And allow me to reiterate: He’s Brock fucking Lesnar.

Lesnar is a complete freak. He’s 6′ 5″, walks around at close to 300 lbs. and moves nimble as a house cat. No matter which heavyweight Brock stands across from, he makes them look like they’re moving in wet cement compared to the blistering pace Brock keeps up. He hits like a piece of heavy machinery pulverizing a sidewalk. And he’s just plain mean to boot.

Brock won the NCAA heavyweight wrestling championship then went on to the WWE where he quickly became the World Champion. After burning out on life on the road, he tried out for the Minnesota Vikings despite not having played football since high school, and was the last one cut in training camp. He decided to give mixed martial arts a go and four fights in, is the champion of the biggest and best organization in the world.

I like Brock Lesnar because there has never been a Brock Lesnar before. A man that big, that quick, and that mean either comes along once a generation, or is completely fictional and made up by Stan Lee. We get to watch one of the most astonishing athletes in the entire world climb into a cage to face the best competition money can throw at him and see which guy can kick the other guy’s ass. I will likely watch every Brock Lesnar fight there is to watch until there are no more Brock Lesnar fights to watch. He is that compelling.

A quick story to illustrate my point. My junior year of college I was driving a suck Toyota Corolla and the heater core completely shit the bed requiring me to drop two grand to fix it. The repair shop started jerking me around, and I was so stressed out about the entire thing, I began dreaming about it. One night I dreamt that I was standing in the shop where the grease monkey was giving me some rap about more money or delayed repairs or whatever, so I went out to my loaner car and got Brock Lesnar out to intimidate him. Why Brock Lesnar was hanging out with my chump ass in Northern Colorado, I’ll never know, but it sure was good to have him. The mechanic straightened right up, offered me a discount, and Brock and I were on our way.

The point: Brock is so intimidating he scares the secondary characters in my dreams.

See you Saturday for UFC 100.

edagger@crujonessociety.com