mma

The Ultimate Fighter: Season 14, Episode 5: Bisping’s bad, he’s bad, you know it

Posted on by Beau Dure

Really not a fan of the mouthpiece shots in the opening credits. Arlovski has creative. These guys? No.

Mayhem calls in his team for a quick huddle after Dustin Pague’s win over Louis Greenhairnot. Dustin asks if they can yell “Glory to God!” Mayhem is not one for religion, but he grants the wish with no fuss.

For some reason in this rapidly paced opening segment, Diego Brandao (Bisping’s top pick) yells at Steven Siler (Mayhem’s last). “You think I’m here to kiss or what?” Bisping calms down Diego after he punches a wall, warning him that he’ll break his hand. Diego recognizes the sound advice.

Mayhem drops by the house with a cowboy hat for Dustin Neace. It looks like Josh Ferguson’s. Josh: “I’ve got one thing going for me, and you’re trying to rip it off.”

But Mayhem had an ulterior motive. He pulls Siler into the pantry and mentions that he thinks there’s a mole on the team. They quickly figure out that it’s John Dodson. So Mayhem says he’s changing the matchups, but we’ll keep that on the DL. He decides to make Diego wait.

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mma

Union opens up in fight against the UFC

Posted on by Beau Dure

If union group Unite HERE is trying to get sympathy in its long-standing dispute with the Fertitta brothers and their business, Station Casinos, they don’t seem to be succeeding. So they’ve ratcheted up the pressure.

They decided a while ago to go after the Fertittas’ other business, the UFC. They lobby against MMA regulation in New York, the lone major holdout in the United States. Their role was uncovered a while ago and went more public this year.

The latest step, among many: They’re going after UFC advertisers, beginning with Anheuser Busch. Fight Opinion has the letter. The issue they’ve chosen: “Anti-gay behavior in the Ultimate Fighting Championship.”

Some of us may see an irony in trying to get a beer company to take offense at less-than-enlightened views on sexuality, but Anheuser-Busch’s ads these days are at least a little less sexist than Miller’s.

MMA has had a few issues with gay-bashing rhetoric, sure. Quinton “Rampage” Jackson and Michael Bisping, both cited in the Unite HERE letter, haven’t gotten the message.

But Unite HERE also includes this clunker:

Remarkably, we have yet to find evidence that any of the UFC athletes identified in this letter have been disciplined by the UFC or its owners for this contemptible behavior.

They must not have looked very hard.

– Dana White apologized and was genuinely chagrined after the reaction from the gay community to his rant. The full story is here, and having spoken with White soon afterward, I can tell you he seemed sincere. (He still hasn’t apologized to Loretta Hunt, which is another issue.)

– White addressed Joe Rogan’s comments.

– Bisping is simply going to need more than one reminder.

None of which should suggest that the issue isn’t legit. A lot of people in the world — not just in MMA, but in society as a whole — haven’t gotten the message. And plenty of people in the MMA community are trying to get their colleagues to grow up. Here’s Michael David Smith. And Luke Thomas, who has been admirably speaking up for a while.

The attitudes won’t change overnight. And they won’t change if Anheuser-Busch suddenly decides to pull all its advertising from the UFC — which won’t happen, anyway. If the UFC completely collapsed and another MMA organization sprang up in its place, chances are pretty good that the transition would erase the progress made in fighting homophobia. White, at least, has gotten the message. He’s working on getting it to his fighters.

But speaking up for the gay community really isn’t Unite HERE’s goal. If the UFC collapsed tomorrow and a more homophobic group popped up instead, Unite HERE probably won’t be bothering its advertisers.

Unite HERE’s goal is to attack Station Casinos on multiple fronts. The union and the casino company have had a long, ugly fight.

So the questions are these:

1. Will Unite HERE’s attack on the UFC help its cause of putting pressure of Station Casinos?

2. Will Unite HERE’s attack on the UFC help the cause of stamping out homophobia in mixed martial arts?

3. If White, Rogan and UFC fighters manage to watch their language for a while, does that take the wind out of Unite HERE’s lobbying efforts?

On the first question, I plead ignorance. On the second, I have serious reservations, though the optimistic view would be that the UFC would make some public proclamation that would do some good.

But one side effect of the revved-up Unite HERE attack is that they’re more public now. Getting comment from the union in the past has always been difficult. (Trust me.) Now they’ve put a phone number and email address out in public view. I’m sending an email inviting a response to this post.

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mma

The Ultimate Fighter: Season 14, Episode 4: You know the matchup, but can you stop it?

Posted on by Beau Dure

Who decided that a bantam was lighter than a feather? Never really understood that.

Next matchup: Stephen Bass (Bisping featherweight) vs. Dennis Bermudez (Miller). We learn this from Louis Gaudinot, who tells his coach Bisping, who heard it from (sigh) John Dodson. My man. The mole.

Stephen doesn’t want to do a third round in training. Bisping pushes him through it. This is what we in the media call “foreshadowing.”

Bisping doesn’t show for the fight announcement. Not the first time he has spaced out on a TUF commitment (see USA-UK season). Mayhem gets a fight dummy to stand in for him and does a pretty good voice impression. Bisping’s absence is never explained.

The fight announcement is … Bass vs. Bermudez. Shocker.

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mma

The Ultimate Fighter: Season 14, Episode 3: Dodson the Mole?

Posted on by Beau Dure

Did Mayhem do something else to his hair? In any case, he brings in a bunch of swimming-pool noodles and says he’s going to teach people the first rule of the Octagon: Defend yourself at all times. He then whacks Dodson in the head with a noodle, starting a noodle fight.

Bisping gets revenge for the tire gag from last week. But he goes a bit farther, taking the tires from Miller’s car. Miller congratulates him but suggests he might want to focus a little less on the pranks and a little more on the fights.

Team Bisping does some vicious sparring. They say “60 percent.” But guys get mad. Akira says he wants to put fear in his teammates because it’s a competition. Meanwhile, Diego and Marcus go at it. Marcus says he doesn’t mind. Bisping, though, is pissed. At least, we think that’s what he said through the bleeps. Marcus says something about being from Alabama and speaking Ebonics and Redneck, while the other guy is from Brazil. Something about kidnapping. Do real camps deal with stuff like this?

Back in the house, Akira of the ever-present hat is the jokester. Slip and slide into the pool. Sitting on the pool table wearing a cup, asking housemates to shoot right at his jewels. Everyone else sleeps early, so Akira has time to put marshmallows and rice in everyone’s gloves. Dustin Neace apparently has three testicles, so Akira puts a pool ball with the number 8 in his glove. Oh, I’m sorry — that’s a 3.

We interrupt this moment of fun for a fight announcement. Mayhem picks Johnny Bedford from his team. Then,  “for your crime of calling Bryan Carraway a bitch,” Mayhem calls out Josh Ferguson. Josh anticipated the matchup and has “F–k you Bedford” scribbled on a piece of paper. The staredown turns into some serious smack talk.

“I felt like a guy in the middle of a country/western bar about to get stabbed,” Miller says.

Bedford’s right hand is a little injured from his prelim fight.

At the ad break, Miller Lite questions our masculinity.

Back from the break — Akira and TJ do the old water-bucket-over-the-door trick. We leave that hanging while Bisping trains Josh. The Josh backstory: He grew up in a family of seven, so he had to fight for everything. That’s all we hear before we jump back to Bisping’s tactics: Keep the fight within striking distance but not clinching distance.

Back to the house — the water bucket lands in front of the approaching fighters. Dud.

Dustin, though, doesn’t like the pranks. He takes a carton of food (rice? cereal?) and dumps it on Akira’s bed telling him not to mess with his stuff. So Akira confronts him, and we have a trash-talk scene so rapid-fire you’d think Aaron Sorkin wrote it.

Back at the house, we learn that my buddy from TUF tryouts, John Dodson, has a lot of friends on the other team. And that’s how Josh knew he was going to be selected to face Bedford. And then Josh learns about Bedford’s hand problem. Uh oh. Tattletales generally haven’t fared well on this show.

Ironically, Bedford corrects Dodson and Friends’ spelling of  “leprechaun,” someone’s nickname.

Meet the fighters … Bedford has a family and has been chasing the dream for 6-7 years. Ferguson has garden-variety confidence and wears his straw hat to the cage.

Looks like we’re going to start at 10:40 or so, which means this is likely not a short fight. The ad break has one of those awkward juxtapositions of Marines and TUF contestants talking about fighting.

Herb Dean is the ref, and Josh comes out firing. Bedford gets in for a clinch, exactly what Bisping didn’t want, and Josh’s attempt to wrap himself around Bedford doesn’t stop the takedown. Bedford grounds and pounds, then lets Josh back up. Josh again throws a decent combo in the standup. Bedford clinches again, takes Josh to the cage and lands some knees. Closeup shows blood on the bridge of Bedford’s nose. Again they stand, and Josh looks sharp again, but Bedford gets a Thai clinch, lands a knee and gets another takedown. This time, he’s in side control and would be well-advised to stay there. He shifts into more of a north-south and starts to work for an armlock. They’re right in front of Bisping, who yells a few instructions. Josh reverses, but Bedford stands. Josh goes for a guillotine, which is enough to slow Bedford for the moment. They break, and Josh has a nice welt under his left eye. Bedford dodges some punches and gets a bodylock to take Josh down. He gets position for a rear naked choke but not enough time. Round 1 to Bedford.

Round 2: Now Bedford’s winning the standup, countering effectively and then taking the initiative. He’s clearly the more experienced fighter, and he’s a good bit bigger. Clinch again, takedown again, and Josh has a look of “Aw geez, not again” on his face. Josh establishes guard, but Bedford passes to half. As Bedford moves to side control, Josh goes for a Hail Mary choke. Bedford escapes, pounds a bit more but lets Josh up. For a second or two. Then it’s a slam right back down, and Bedford’s in side control. He’s working Josh’s face with elbows while Herb Dean yells “Work!” Into the last minute we go, and it’s clear Josh has no answer for anything. Bedford, though, forgets about the big bonuses for the best knockout and submission on the show, and he’s content landing elbows until the fight ends.

Decision: Unanimous for Bedford. Bisping can’t believe Josh tried a flying knee, from which Bedford easily deposited him on the ground.

Mayhem says he notices a recurring theme on the show. Bisping says it’s just two fights.

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soccer

Single-Digit Soccer: Position papers

Posted on by Beau Dure

My first exposure to youth sports was at the Athens (Ga.) YMCA. We played football in the fall (flag in first grade, tackle from second grade on), basketball in the winter, soccer in the early Georgia spring and a brief softball season.

In football, we learned positions right away. I still remember mine — end in one season, guard in another. And I remember the numbering system. The backs were numbered 1 (QB), 2 (left RB), 3 (middle RB), 4 (right RB). Then we numbered holes — even numbers on the right, starting with 2 (between center and right guard), 4 (guard and tackle), 6 (tackle and end), 8 (sweep). Odd numbers on the left. So if the coach called 23 in the huddle, the QB would hand off to the left running back, who would run between the left guard and left tackle. Everyone knew which way to block.

Reminder: We’re talking about second-graders here. And though we moved tentatively and sometimes dropped the ball, we could run all the plays. They even taught us a tricky blocking scheme in which we “pulled” the guard (me) out to block the defensive end. The offensive tackle and end shifted inside to block, leaving a confused defensive end wondering why no one was blocking him. He stood there until I ran into him at full speed. Oh, how the poor kid cried. Not sure we tried that again.

The staff at the Y were all former football players, and in that day, it’s fair to say they didn’t know much about soccer. My guess is they hadn’t gone through an F license workshop or read up on the latest U.S. Soccer training guidelines. So when they put us on the field for soccer, we all got positions. Left back, right mid, goalkeeper. Off you go.

I can’t remember whether the games devolved into “mob-ball” or “magnet-ball” as you see in single-digit soccer today. I mostly remember playing goalkeeper and blaming myself when an easy shot got by. As far as I remember, my defense held its shape pretty well — probably better than it did in the adult league game I played Friday night. (“Geez, why am I running back from right mid again?! Why is our right back drifting all over the place?! My leg hurts!”)

I mention all of this because, according to what we’re taught as single-digit soccer coaches, this is impossible. Kids can’t learn positions or tactics. Don’t worry about “magnet-ball.” It’s OK for now.

Yet we learned them at the Y. The English family on my team says they learned positions at age 5 and have had to adjust to mob-ball in the USA. What’s different about modern U.S. youth soccer?

I’ve read through the new U.S. Soccer curriculum again, and I can’t quite tell whether that mindset has changed. The curriculum says players are supposed to be able to “occupy the original position in a game once an action is finished,” which I’d guess means that we’re supposed to be assigning positions. But the “tactics” space is left blank in the U5-U8 plans.

My hunch is that if we really worked on positions, we’d get them to work. But we get one hour a week of divided attention in which to teach them, and we’re supposed to be working on dribbling drills (without calling them drills) and maybe passing and shooting games.

The Y was different. We were there for two practices a week. And the same coaches who taught us to be a right tackle were there to teach us to be a center midfielder. We got the message. Perhaps with some disciplinary measures that modern parents and psychologists would frown on.

This season, I’ve tried to get my team to spread out at the very least. I took a cartoon approach. I’m telling them we don’t want this:

Let’s have two people back, but not like this:

(The two defenders are sitting back and waving at their teammates at the other end of the field, who are outnumbered 5-to-3.)

The ideal is this:

I’ve certainly seen coaches try to instill positional sense at U6 and U7. Some of them are just good-hearted and trying to do their best. Maybe they got through at some level, though it never showed in the games.

Then there’s the guy I’ve mentioned before who would stop games to tell his team how they could’ve done better on that last goal from a tactical perspective. He’s the same guy who made occasional snide comments at other coaches about their sideline instructions, and he scheduled his team for the first game each Saturday but never assigned himself to set up. While the opposing coach grunted with the portable goals, his team was running actual drills, having been driven to the game 20 minutes early by a gaggle of frightened parents. Then he would get mad at us because our players were running late. (See, parents? See what happens to your poor coach when you don’t show up on time?)

Results don’t matter at this age, but running over that team felt pretty good.

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rugby

Rugby’s hierarchy still set in stone

Posted on by Beau Dure

Over the last seven men’s soccer World Cups, 28 teams have reached the quarterfinals (27 if you count Croatia and Yugoslavia as one). Only one country, Germany, has reached that stage all seven times. Then it’s Brazil with six, Argentina five, three with four, two with three, and the rest with one appearance each.

Over all seven men’s rugby World Cups, including the current one, only 12 teams have reached the quarterfinals. Since South Africa was welcomed back into competition in 1995 to pave the way for a future Matt Damon role, it’s just 11. Australia, New Zealand, England, France, South Africa have never missed the quarterfinals, aside from South Africa missing the first two Cups during the apartheid days.

This group is self-reinforcing. The top 12 teams in each World Cup (quarterfinalists plus third-place group finishers) automatically qualify for the next World Cup. The rest of the world plays through a promotion/relegation/playoff scheme so complex it makes the Davis Cup look like the NCAA Tournament. And the International Rugby Board divides teams into tiers, with the top 10 playing either in the Six Nations Championship (Europe) or Four Nations (Southern Hemisphere). The second IRB tier has the seven teams that usually play in the World Cup.

Everyone else is in Tier III, including the other eight teams that have ever played in a World Cup. That’s only 25 teams. Yes, fewer teams have qualified for a 20-team tournament (formerly 16) in seven iterations than have qualified for the quarterfinals of soccer’s World Cup in the same period.

So changes in the rugby hierarchy are marked in glacial terms. But these tiers could still use a little updating.

Tier I: The big five teams are competitive within the group — no team has won it more than twice, and no team has always made the semifinals. But below that, no team has ever made the final.

Tier II: The next tier of four teams includes the three other teams to reach a rugby semifinal — Wales (1987), Scotland (1991) and Argentina (2007). Ireland is in its fifth quarterfinal but has never gone farther. This tier of four has once again accounted for the other three quarterfinal spots this year, with Scotland the odd team out for the first time.

Tier III has the other teams who have reached a quarterfinal, but they’re well back. Before South Africa joined the fun, Fiji reached the 1987 quarterfinals, and Samoa and Canada advanced that far in 1991. Samoa made it back in 1995, Fiji returned in 2007, and Canada hasn’t won more than one game in a Cup since then.

Curiously, the International Rugby Board released new rankings today in the middle of the World Cup. The changes are basically based on one game — Tonga’s upset of France. France fell three spots to No. 8; Tonga leaped four to No. 9. Everyone in between them, therefore, moved one spot in either directions. And yet nothing has really changed — eight of the nine usual suspects are in the quarterfinals.

Here’s how they stand going into those quarterfinals:

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mma

The Ultimate Fighter: Season 14, Episode 2

Posted on by Beau Dure

Slight change in the opening credits from season past — it’s almost all fight footage. Very little from the gym. It’s as if they’re sending a message that the fights this season are going to be as impressive as we saw last week.

Rare bit of trivia: The house is 15,000 square feet.

“We ate and ate and ate and ate,” they say of their early time in the house. John Dodson is manning the grill.

Draft day — we see Miller’s rankings. Dodson (bantamweight) and Diego Brandao (featherweight) are No. 1.

The coin toss goes awry when “we have a roller,” in Dana White’s words. Bisping wins and opts to take the first pick rather than first fight. That suits Mayhem, who’d rather have the first fight.

In a change from years past, they draft each weight class separately. Bantamweights first:

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soccer

The Frimpong questions

Posted on by Beau Dure

Former UC-Santa Barbara soccer player Eric Frimpong, now serving time for an alleged rape, has lost another round in court. Bill Archer has reacted angrily, dropping giant tomes of evidence suggesting that Frimpong is a long-suffering victim of a misguided prosecution, a hapless defense lawyer, and a judge with his hands over his ears and eyes. This is on top of an exhaustive ESPN piece that summed up quite a few questions about the case.

Fake Sigi, in the final bit of proof that he is not Bill Archer (in case anyone was still clinging to that theory after Fake Sigi offered up his real name and met many of us in the soccer media), disagreed with the call for a new trial.

Fake Sigi pointed out a pretty good flaw among Frimpong’s defenders. The avalanche of words can sometimes lead to a rather cluttered argument. And in the case of the “bite mark” dispute, it might not be relevant. (That said, the investigator cited in Bill’s second post — James Clemente — makes you wonder why any of this made it into court in the first place, and he reopens the issue about whether the third person in this case may in fact have left such a bite.)

I’d suggest refocusing along the following questions:

1. The DNA evidence. There was none of his on her. Her DNA was on his genitals. The Frimpong defense is that she put her hand there. (Some BigSoccer commenters accuse Archer and others of “ignoring” the DNA evidence, which is why we don’t take those commenters seriously.)

2. Dirt vs. sand. Joel Engel, who has written extensively on Frimpong’s behalf, cites a soil expert who said in the habeas corpus (which I have not found online and probably wouldn’t have time to read in its entirety this week) that the dirt on the victim was not sand and therefore not from the beach where the rape allegedly occurred.

3. Frimpong’s defense. The lawyer called just one witness, a strategy that could be classified somewhere between “backfired” and “negligent.”

4. The underwear. Mind if I skip the details here? They’re in Bill’s second post, citing Clemente. Let’s just we already know plenty of people have questions about the victim’s ex.

5. The tide charts. In this case, Clemente is either completely misinformed or the legal work here is shocking. Clemente claims, reading tide charts and visiting the crime scene, that the victim could not have gone where she claimed she went without getting wet. See point 6 of Clemente’s evisceration of Frimpong’s defense lawyer.

6. The alibi. Clemente (point 15) says three people could place Frimpong somewhere other than the crime scene.

7. The victim’s recollection. She may have had an alcohol-related blackout, but was her story otherwise consistent? Is that possible?

8. The lack of evidence on Frimpong (again, other than the DNA for which Frimpong has a plausible explanation). That’s emphasized in the ESPN piece.

For points 9, 10 and 11, read the two paragraphs in the ESPN piece starting “On Jan. 31, 2008”:

9. Dentist shopping. Why was the prosecution allowed to do this?

10. The jurors’ questions after the fact. The jury asked for information it did not receive, and the juror says she felt they rushed to be done by Christmas.

11. Why did Judge Hill dismiss the motion on the dentistry?

There’s more. Some of it is nonsensical — Clemente implies that Frimpong was such a celebrity in Santa Barbara that he would’ve been recognized. Frimpong isn’t Messi, and Santa Barbara isn’t Argentina. Again, that’s why some of these points should simply be discarded if you’re arguing in public. (In a court of law, throwing the spaghetti at the wall to see what sticks is apparently more common. Trust me on this.)

Other points — whether or not racism was a factor, how often rape accusations prove false — really obscure the issues.

And then here’s the real issue: Can these 11 questions be answered so well that we don’t think a new trial is necessary? If so, please have at it. Comments are open. Just be respectful.

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