23 Apr The Prospect Of A Hanging

I’m not an emotional person, but I about broke down this Saturday when the referee held my hand up and my name was announced as the winner of the fight. This was a very important moment for me and had been building up for some time. I’m writing about it on my music blog  because a large portion of the lyrics for my new tape “God’s Creatures” were inspired by this exact journey.

A year ago exactly I was still living in New York City and was on my daily run. While running I

pondered a question that has often bothered me. I have always wondered, what would life be like had I not followed my passion of music as far as I have? I always came back to this question and almost every time I arrived at the same conclusion: I probably would have gotten involved in mixed martial arts.
I grew up around martial arts. My dad spent his young adult life training, fighting and traveling around competing in tournaments. In addition my dad has taught TaeKwonDo and TaiChi for as long as I’ve been alive and many years before.

Obviously my childhood was spent learning the art and competing in tournaments myself. Many of my friends from childhood were from the TKD school, we trained together and competed together. I absolutely loved c

ompeting in TKD tournaments as a kid and usually did pretty good.

My interest in fighting continued through my teenage and college years. My friends and I were

always sparring or wrestling or boxing. We fought in the backyard, in sketchy old downtown buildings, in music venues after bands played, and the infamous boxing matches in the garage of the downtown house I lived in during college. People would play a tribal beat on the scattered pieces of drumset in the garage and we’d go at it. At one point the cops came to the 

garage and I had to assuage their suspicions in nothing but the underwear I had been fighting in! Every now and then we would get in a little street fights or a fight at a show. These experiences always freaked me out in the best way. They were amazing rushes of adrenaline and more importantly taught my friends and I that we were tougher and braver than we thought. I’m sure having these experiences were vital in forming my confidence. Looking back we had no idea what we were doing, our technique was atrocious, and our safety measures were non-existent, but we were ballsy and taking risks and that was what mattered.

This interest in combat was something I really didn’t pursue too far, other than really enjoying it any time it was possible.

Back to that fateful spring run in New York last Spring. While thinking about the path I might have taken had I not gotten involved in music I started to wonder if it wasn’t too late to still try and do martial arts. It hit me: I could do both. Leaving potential untapped and not overturning every stone is something that scares me.  I decided right then and there that I would start training. I started working out everyday. My workout consisted of long runs and makeshift exercises I translated onto the playground equipment in the Brooklyn parks next to my apartment.

Once while riding the Manhattan bound J Train to play a gig, I saw a dude holding MMA gloves. I immediately approached him and asked about his training. He said his crew train themselves on their own. Free training! I got his contact information seconds before getting off. I contacted him, and he invited me to meet the guys he trains with by joining them in their pick up football game. I showed up and I was the only NY transplant there, the others were tough and hardened kids of the Brooklyn streets. Turns out their football game was full contact and the last time they had played some of the kids had been hospitalized with broken bones. These kids were there to watch the next game, fully clad in slings and casts. As a person not particularly skilled at football I was not prepared for this. I considered fleeing, but I knew that would kill my chances to train with these guys, so I stayed. The team that picked me christened the game with a huddle/chant and we were off. These kids were nuts and almost started fighting each other multiple times throughout the game and, of course, I got tackled by the biggest dude there. Luckily though I survived and earned the respect of the crew.

Unfortunately after enduring my “trial by fire” I never saw my J Train friend again, and thus was still without a place to train MMA. About this time I left NYC for the summer. My bands had two American tours and one European tour lined up and so I was gone for the entire summer. By the time summer ended I was plum out of money. It was time to temporarily retreat back to Missouri to recharge. I knew this would be a great time for me to train MMA. Immediately after getting back to MO I contacted my friend Tyler Lewis who I had trained with at my dad’s TKD school as a kid.

After doing TKD, Tyler had switched to doing MMA and had even went pro. I asked him where I should train and he without hesitation told me I HAD to go to Springfield Fight Club because it was the best gym in the area. I trusted him completely and signed up for a membership at SFC. When signing up I asked one of the coaches, David Johnson, how many months would I have to commit to up front if I joined. His response really rocked my world, “the only commitment we ask of you is to show up, work hard and get your ass beat.” So I did.

The beginning of my training was one of the most humbling experiences of my entire life. I didn’t realize how awful my technique was until I had professionals instructing me. I didn’t realize how weak I was until I saw how strong the others in the gym were. I was getting mentally and physically humbled in every class I took (kickboxing, jiu-jitsu, wrestling, etc.). I really began to ask myself if I really had it in me to go through with this training. This doubt in myself made me realize that this was a challenge I had to do to prove myself. I had to train enough to be able to win at least one legitimately sanctioned MMA fight in a cage. This challenge felt like my own personal odyssey or pilgrimage that I needed to fully blossom into manhood. This kind of “conquering the impossible” quest can take many forms for a person, but I think it is important for everyone to do something like this. You’ll grow your human spirit and really stretch what you are capable of. “Nothing focuses the mind like the prospect of a hanging” and I had a mission to complete (and not get killed in the process).

I trained hard for the season of life that followed. I improved steadily and this is the first major lesson I learned from my training. Somewhere along the way growing up I had heard that your brain starts to harden as you become a young adult and learning new things would be close to impossible. I thought that if you hadn’t started to accrue certain skills in your teenage years they would never be able to be acquired. What a detrimental ideology to have implanted in your brain!

Through my training I was so relieved to learn that the opposite is true. Having an adult mind helps you learn things more efficiently and with a greater success rate than learning something as a kid. I started to evolve in my training much faster than I ever would have as a kid because I had an adult mind. I knew how to learn, how to be taught, and how to supplement my teaching with my own practice. I want everyone to know that learning does not get harder as you get older, but it gets easier and better. You will be able to pick things up faster than ever possible as a child. NOW is the time to learn something new.

Another thing that I learned from my training is the truth of the statement “size matters not.” Time after time I saw seemingly weaker and smaller men dominate people twice their size and stature. Usually it is thought that the bigger stronger guy always wins, but there is hope for the little guy in the technique. Not only does this have huge implications for fighting, but it means everything for anybody who is the underdog. You don’t have to have the most power or the best set-up, it’s all about the how and what of doing. Technique and concept beat strength. If you feel you have been written-off and don’t stand a chance, you can still succeed and overcome whatever challenge that lies ahead of you.

Another misconception I would like to dispel is the stigma present in some minds that MMA fighters are egotistical jerks. This couldn’t be farther from true. The people I met in my journey were some of the most helpful and friendly people you ever could meet. They all are very humble and talented despite the hard pasts and situations that many of them have risen from. I’ll be screaming this till the day I die, but please don’t let preconceived notions define a person, let them each provide their own definition individually. Stigmas usually only represent extreme outliers, yet somehow are often used as generalizations for entire groups of people.

Eventually I was finally ready to step into the cage and got my fight confirmed. At this point it was time to start cutting weight. I walk around at about 153 and had to get to 140 to make my weight. This was the most difficult part of my training. I’m vegetarian and a lot of the meal plans suggested to me involved portions of meat as the main nutrition so I had to improvise. I ate the healthiest I possibly could, worked out hard, and largely cut my caloric intake down. The final 24 hours before weigh in I didn’t eat or drink anything. I took a piping hot epson salt bath which left me feeling like I was gonna throw up or pass out. I still had a tiny bit to lose so I went to the sauna and finally hit weight.

 I weighed in at 139, so I had cleared my goal with a pound to spare even. Of course I spent the rest of that night feasting.

The next day was fight night. I showed up to the venue a few hours early to get the required physical by a doctor. My coach wrapped my hands in gauze and tape (the most intricate wrappings my hands had ever been in). The referee had to sign his name on my hand wraps to approve them. My coaches and I went in to the back room and they got me warmed up. I jumped rope,hit pads, and did some ground work. I was next in the ring.

I stood behind the curtain and waited to be announced. The week prior to the fight I had recorded my own walkout song. I made a primal anthem with intimidating noises. My original

opponent was named A.J. so I recorded myself saying “AJ will fall” and included it in the song. Unfortunately I had gotten a different opponent the day of the fight. I walked out with my dad by my side. Everything had come full circle. I hugged my dad and my coaches and stepped into the ring.

I’ll save the details of the fight for face to face interactions, but it went great. I was able to use pieces of all the styles I learned. I won the fight 40 seconds into the second round by TKO from the mount position. All of this journey leading up to one moment and I had gotten exactly what I wanted. When the referee held my hand in the air as the winner I couldn’t even look up or open my eyes. I felt like I was gonna start sobbing. It was a highly rewarding and emotional

moment for me.

One of the most important parts of this training was being able to lay to rest the doubts I have had about what would have happened if I did MMA. The what-ifs would have killed me. I think pursuing creativity was without a doubt the right choice for me and now, knowing for sure, I am able to pursue it with a renewed vigor. Like The Beach Boys said in That’s Not Me: “I’m glad I went now I’m that much more sure that we’re ready.”

I have improved so much in my skill, but I’m still nothing compared to the people in the gym who were born for this and have God given gifts for this sport that are untouchable. You guys are amazing!

None of this would have been remotely possible without a huge group of people that helped me out along the long path. A huge thanks to everyone who taught me or learned beside me: St.John’s TaeKwonDo: Mark Coalson, Dale Murray, Jeff McDaniel, Sam Risalitti, Brenda Mercer, Brandon Gray, Michael Adams, Kasey Wright, Kody Wright, Eric Potter, Charles Smythe, John Mark White. A huge thanks to Tyler Lewis for being one of my inspirations and for telling me where to train in the first place. Springfield Fight Club: Brett Welcome, Clyde Hicks, David Johnson, Brad Aaron, Nathan Stamburski, Brian Pearman, Brady Folbre Joey Slaughter, Steve, Ryan, Brandon, Josh Oxenreider Bryan Ramirez, Chris Reed, Robbie Holt, Adam Sova (and for all the times we trained together at Court 12). A huge thanks to Alan, Josh, and Ezekiel Edwards for the instruction. A huge thanks to Eric Stevens for putting together the fight at the Shrine Mosque and all his hard work with Adrenaline Fight League. Shout outs to the *CP crews, Jared Carpenter, Tyler Maxey, the 810 boys, the court 12 guys. To James Koliwaske for being someone I look up to and for being one of my main inspirations to train. To one of my closest friends Joel Salmon for being a constant source of motivation and inspiration to me. Your hard work in the marines to achieve your goals kept me going through the tough times of my training.  To my friend Chad Shuckman who truly popped the cap on my primal instinct in regards to fighting. To all the people who did life with me since I started training and had to listen to me talk about it and support/encourage me and help me out both times I got concussions: Jordan Donaldson, Chandler Mercer, Ben Wright, Mom, Grandpa, Zach Fish. And I’d like to dedicate this to my old TKD training partner and friend, Justin Park, who passed away last year at a young age. I love you man.

And finally to my dad, who is my example and my role model and who I hope to emulate just a single bit.

I love you all.

27 Apr N 0 D A Y

I am not a liar. I brought this post into existence to stand as a testament to my claim. I mentally agreed to author this post as I scrambled for a backstory to legitimize my unsolicited appearance at Manhattan’s luxurious Grand Hyatt for the 2014 NYU Alumni Awards. I was trying to get inside this formal event to see my friend, Alex Spears, perform with the Men’s Glee Choir. When I arrived all the guests were seated at numbered tables dressed in suits and ties (and the female equivalents). I, on the contrary, was clad in jeans, vans, and a $1 dollar store cap. I walked into the ballroom and boldly claimed an unoccupied seat.

“For what purpose would a guy in street wear be seated next to formally dressed NYU graduates?” I asked myself as the lovely folks seated around the table looked at me with an expression that indicated their minds were loading up their introductions with inquisitory ammo. As I shake their hands the lady seated to my left (the University Development Chief Of Staff for NYU) inquires about what connections brought me to this banquet. My moral compass wildly spun in circles. Aware of the forthcoming birth of this blog I felt the only legitimate and honest answer was to respond: “I’m a reporter for noday.co, I’m doing a piece on the men’s glee choir.” The table’s inhabitants bought my story and I was officially granted unspoken authorization and approval to remain in the seat that I had boldly claimed as my own. As I received the green light I simultaneously called for the waiter and requested that I could substitute the meal in front of me (herb crusted filet mignon) for the vegetarian option that was prophesied on the pamphlet in my seat. When the waiter agreed I knew that my presence would not be questioned further.

As I remedied my hungry gut with a rapid consumption of my successfully acquired vegetarian plate, I wondered if my actions reeked of imposter. Were the people seated at the table suspicious of me? Could they sense that just an hour prior I had yanked my sweaty, half naked body out of my sleeping bag and out the door of my cheap and crowded Brooklyn apartment just in time to catch the train to Grand Central Station? If the NYU Alumni couldn’t tell, the waiters most definitely could, they usually can at these types of things. They serve thousands of well-to-do guests a month and can quite efficiently smell the phonies out. Maybe it’s the velocity with which I inhaled my meal, or maybe it was my sly consumption of the un-eaten roasted apple crisp sitting in the vacant seat next to me. Whatever it was they knew, they always do, and they subtly signal their displeasure with serving one of their own kind, and understandably so. Why should they be required to serve me? Without a doubt they maintain a steadier gig than me and are undoubtedly the more grizzled veterans of the punishing maw of the day-to-day grind. I always try to reconcile this dissonance with my hyper politeness and occasional comic relief.

What was it that had me believing I could walk into an upscale ballroom in the middle of Manhattan and claim a seat and a meal and not spend the night in jail? “The question isn’t who is going to let me; it’s who is going to stop me.” The realization that you are the force that dictates the majority of your outcomes could be one of the most transformative revelations. With this notion on the table, the question takes shape: “what are you going to do with yourself?” or maybe the question that must be answered first is “what can you do with yourself?” That question is exactly why NODAY exists.

Not because we are anything special or have any outstanding talent, quite the opposite really. I am just a dude with no particular advantage in life, no any remarkable looks, no profitable talents. These kinds of deficiencies would drag down most of my contemporaries but secretly they have acted as a guiding light for my true potential. I’ve spent a lot of years trying to compensate for the shortcomings that I felt made me inferior to other males my age, but as my war for restitution raged I stopped to analyze my location. I pulled out the map and my compass. I added my coordinates and saw something peculiar. I pulled out my binoculars and intently looked behind on the trail I had been walking since my metamorphosis had begun. There like little specks of sand way off in the distance I spotted the star athletes, the chick magnets, and the braniacs: society’s chosen ones, far behind where I was at. I had in my possession a much more desirable life than the former champions of elementary. A more attractive offer than the heavy hitters from high school. A more promising future than the thrashers in college. I had surpassed those that society said were superior to me. Not because I had grown the traits that I had once lacked, but because I had conjured the energy and motivation to leverage the traits I did posess to their fullest and wield a conquering hand that couldn’t be matched. “Life is not always a matter of holding good cards, but sometimes, playing a poor hand well.” I am still far from where I want to be, from where I could be. The saying that “youth is wasted on the young” scares me out of my slumber. I wake up every morning swinging and thrashing for my chance. “We are born with a chance, and I am gonna have my chance.” How far can I stretch. To what lengths can I reach. What am I gonna do to get there? How far can I take myself? Those of you ahead of me, teach me your ways, those of you behind: I’ll share what little I know. No day like today.

Oh also, to complete my necessary obligations: Alex’s glee choir was spectacular. They sang the NYU fight song to a crowd of 500 people which included the man forbes said was one of the most influential scienteists in the world and Jackie robinson’s wife. Great job alex, and great food to the Grand Hyatt caterers!