Rory Douglas writes from the ringside of a mixed martial arts competition @ McSweeney's.
My brother Chad, with a record of ten wins and one loss—which he later avenged—and three title belts, has accomplished everything one could hope to accomplish in the 145-pound weight class of the north Seattle suburbs amateur mixed martial arts circuit. If this were Street Fighter II, he would now be fighting Sagat, the one-eyed Muay Thai fighter who shoots fireballs and throws what's called a "Tiger Uppercut." Instead Chad's fighting someone named Mike.
Chad wasn't supposed to fight Mike, but Chad's previous opponent backed out earlier in the week because, according to Chad, "He saw my last fight." It's remarks like these that make me think it'd be terribly interesting—from a purely journalistic perspective—to see Chad get knocked out.
But it doesn't look like tonight's the night. Not only has Mike only fought twice, but by the time they step into the ring Chad will outweigh Mike by ten to fifteen pounds. When he doesn't have a fight coming up, Chad weighs around 165 pounds. In the forty-eight hours before weigh-ins, he literally sweats off twenty pounds by working out in a plastic suit. After weigh-ins, he spends twenty-four hours rehydrating with Pedialyte while he watches Jurassic Park III. By fight time he's back in full athletic and mental condition—and again weighs 165 pounds. And since Mike accepted this fight on two day's notice, he likely didn't cut weight at all, and there's really no way he can weigh more than 150 pounds at fight time.
image: Condrin Lupei @ F-Stop