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UFFFC: ALL FINISHED! Replay in first post!

PuntMyLumps

By PuntMyLumps
in Madden and video games

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Nazgul

Nazgul

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Just got done watching the entirety of the VoD. 

Really good job with the commentary. As someone who has watched some MMA, but doesn't know too much - it was mighty helpful.

Keep up the good work. And I'll see you for Butterlip's Trophy Presentation on Wednesday!

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Slappy Mc

Slappy Mc

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13 hours ago, PuntMyLumps said:

Wednesday.  Was 7 a good start time?  Maybe 8 instead?

I watched it after the fact. I liked it though. EmBare A$smint has got me hype. I think if he can manage to get any other fighters to the ground he can win.

That mint green hair too. Straight ?.

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Nazgul

Nazgul

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THE PLAYERS' TRIBUNE

How I Got Here, by Butterlips O'Coolahan (July 31, 2018)

    I was born in Detroit, Michigan in 1976. Most people remember 1976 as the year the Toronto Blue Jays came into existence. I know it as the year I was born - so I don't know anything about the Blue Jays. More importantly though, it was the year that my Dad died - which would change the way I was raised, lived, and it would eventually lead me here. To the Top 8 of the largest amateur MMA Tournament in the world. 

    My Dad, Buster O'Coolahan Sr. (That's right, my real name is Buster - more on that later) was an Irish immigrant. Just like his dad before him, Buster worked as a grave digger. I was told it was a tough job. One that didn't pay much, nor put much on the table - but it was enough for him and my mom, Darcy, until it wasn't. My mother became pregnant with me. The small apartment outside of Dublin, and the meager meals - sufficient for the two of them, simply wouldn't be enough for a family of three. 

    My mother was a seamstress, sewing bonnets and scarves on the street for anything she was offered. Meanwhile, my Dad picked up another job as well - boxing. He had no formal training or experience, but he was always strong. Years of digging dirt would do that for you. And he ended up being pretty good at it too. He quickly grew a reputation as a hard-hitting southpaw. If you didn't knock him out in the first round - you could bet on being knocked out yourself in the second. He was all power. Unfortunately, amateur boxing didn't pay too well. At least not in Dublin. That's when he was offered an opportunity that he couldn't pass up. He was given the chance to fight in Detroit. To fight in America. The U.S. boxing team had just about swept the Olympics. He viewed this as a golden ticket to getting out of grave digging for good. To support his soon-to-wife and child. They left for Detroit three days later.

    I wasn't born until December. But, by then tragedy had already struck. A month earlier, after a training bout at the Kronk - Buster and a couple of his buddies went out for a drink. Being a foreign, red-haired, funny-talking Irish-man - he got a lot of attention. Not all of it good. And being the foreigner, he always felt like he had to be show his toughness to fit in with the Detroit crowd. Long story short - he drank a couple too many, got into a bar brawl, and was stabbed six times. He didn't make it. 

It was tough on my mother, of course, she had no one here in America. She had no means to go back to Dublin. And even if she could, she was eight months pregnant and could pop at any moment. Of course, I didn't know any of this as a child. I was always told that he died after an accident at work. And not knowing what his work was - I never questioned it. Growing up in a single-parent household isn't uncommon. It's certainly more uncommon when you're the only pale-faced ginger in an otherwise Urban neighborhood, but it wasn't a bad upbringing. Eventually my mother would get a job as a nurse at the hospital. Which made it all the more awkward when I would head to the ER for yet another concussion. Which happened far more than she would have liked (for the record, she would have liked for it never happen - as she would tell me every time I "visited" her at work). 

    My mother protected me from the same life my father lived. I wasn't allowed to play team sports. Admittingly, she feared injury for her only son. That meant no Football. No Soccer. No Hockey. No Baseball. The only sport I was really allowed to play was bowling. But, I had no interest. What really interested me however, was teaching. My mother would teach me all about her life back in Ireland. The cities, the hillsides and flowing rivers. The culture, food, language, etc. You name it and she was teaching it. Meanwhile, school was teaching me the history of America. I learned all about the Gettysberg Address, Paul Revere, and the American Revolution. My teacher, Mr. Roberts noticed my keen interest in learning and placed me on the Quiz-bowl team (which, for the record - we faired pretty well, not because of me). But, Mr. Roberts became kind of the father figure I never had. He would stay past school hours to help me finish homework, but more importantly (and more relevant), he was a huge boxing fan, specifically of Sugar Ray Leonard. He would always have recordings of his fights playing in the VCR. I couldn't help but watch.

    I would get into a lot of fights at school. Like my dad, I was different and I would stick up for myself. I often lost the fight (hence the hospital visits), but I wouldn't back away until I was satisfied that I made the other kid hurt a little bit too. That may sound cruel, sure. But in the boxing fights, if both sides didn't look a little beaten and bruised, was it really a fight? It was how I kept them away. Mr. Roberts wanted me to get into boxing, said I had a "quick uppercut," but my mom forbid it so I never pursued it. Eventually, I outgrew the want to fight. Eventually, people left me alone - neglecting the need to fight. It became a fleeting memory. 

    I graduated high school and was hired by the same school a few years later to teach English (the Irish kid teaching English to Americans. Ironic, isn't it?). I tough English for seven years, until I was 30, when I was finally "promoted" to Mr. Roberts old hunting grounds - history. He had earned a long-awaited retirement by then. I taught history for just about ten years, even earning second-runner up for Detroit Teacher of the Year in 2006, before I was let go. The school was "over-budget" and needed to cut down costs. Most of the longer tenured teachers were sent packing. I could have found a job at a different school, teaching different subjects to different students. But as I was packing up my desk / the classroom - I found something. In a box in the back of the cabinet there was Mr. Roberts collection of VHS'. And with them; his tapes of Sugar Ray Leonard. 

    By now, my mother had told me the true story of what had happened to my father. I knew about his desire to raise a family in America. To make the big-time as a boxing superstar. His dream didn't come to be. But I can make my dream be his dream. And that's what I did. I watched those VHS' a hundred times. Learning when to block, to dodge, to weave. MMA had become bigger than boxing, so my attention turned to the octogon as well. I watched Anderson Silva, Chuck Liddell, etc. all make names for themselves. If boxing was Checkers, MMA was chess. And being part of a semi-successful Quiz Bowl team made me think I would excell at chess. 

    I signed up for the UFFFC tournament on a whim. I knew I could take a few punches from my concussion days growing up. And I know I apparently have a "quick uppercut," but I would be lying if I wasn't nervous. These are fighters who have trained for this their whole lives. Here I am, Buster O'Coolahan Jr., a recently laid-off teacher from Detroit who's experience in fights was from 25 years ago. I had, of course, had some practice bouts before last night. But, I never expected to win. Especially not against Whicker Wins, the best amateur fighter of both the Koreas. Maybe it was luck. And maybe Freddie Hands will be quick to bring be down tomorrow. But, I like to think that a certain Irishman was watching down on me from above, guiding my fists into my opponents face.
    
    Whatever it was, I'll take it. And on Wednesday, I'll walk out into the 'Gon with all of the confidence I can muster. And for the first time ever, despite it being my father or me - my mother will be in attendance. She'll be the little red-haired lady with her hands over her face in the first row. These fights are for you Mom, for you Mr. Roberts, and most importantly - for you Dad. I may not have ever known you, but at least I can try and make your dream come true.

____________________

P.S. I promised the story of where "Butterlips" came from. It isn't as glamorous as you might wish. Towards the end of a school year (I forget which by now), I was grilling for the rest of the teachers and staff for our usual "Summer Bummer" bash, and I had everything; burgers, hot dogs, corn on the cob, etc. Anyway, as the last teacher (and students that have hung around) grabbed their plate I noticed there weren't any paper plates or forks left. And I am a man of corn. And my corn needs to be buttered. Not wanting to get butter all over my hands (or the table), I placed the stick of butter in my mouth (horizontally) to rub the corn across. Apparently, as I was told by no less than four people, this was the wrong way to do this. Anyway, a student, lets call her Stephanie, very loudly exclaimed that I had butter all over my lips. And the phrase "Butterlips" has spread every since.
 

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Slappy Mc

Slappy Mc

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Joe Rogan and EmBare AssMint sitdown for an interview. No managers, no assistants, no piece of sh!* Dana White, just one on one.

Joe Rogan: Hello and thanks for joining me, EmBare. Let me start by saying, WoW! That first fight was amazing. 

Super EmBare AssMint: Thank you.

Joe Rogan: So tell me man, where on Earth did you come from? You just burst on to the scene like, Woah!

Super EmBare AssMint: Well Joe, it’s a long story, but we got time right?

Joe Rogan: That’s what we’re here for brother.

Super EmBare AssMint: Well I guess I could start by saying my birth name isn’t EmBare AssMint. I was born, Chang Pru Yom Li Jr. My father is proud Asian doctor named, you guessed it, Chang Pru Yom Li Sr. My mother is a self taught Brazilian personal trainer named Izabel Moreno. My parents met because of a freak stair master accident. No my mom wasn’t injured, she carried the injured man to hospital my dad was working in. The description of their first encounter differs from which one you ask, but soon after they were married and I was born in Rio De Janeiro, Brazil.

I had a normal childhood, although I looked more like my dad, skin tone-wise, I was deeply enveloped in the Brazilian culture. My father had been training me since I was born to continue the family tradition of being a medical practitioner. It was hard work, but I was good at it.

By the age 7, I started getting bullied at school. My father always said, “Ignore them. When you famous doctor, they feel stupid.” I knew he was right, but my mother always encouraged me to defend myself. It got really bad one time and I got put in the hospital. Apparently the bully didn’t appreciate the advice my dad gave me when I laughed in his face. A broken nose and a few stitches later, I knew I needed to learn to defend myself. I developed a plan, with the help of my mom, to train Brazilian Jui Jitsu in an attempt to not be hurt anymore. It was only intended to be a self-defense thing, but things changed once I started. 

I had been lying to my dad for 5 years about where I was going and what I was doing so that I could train. When I got hurt training, I would have to say that I got beat up at school. My dad’s support never wavered, “When you famous doctor, they feel stupid.” I was torn because I knew I couldn’t keep up the lie much longer, the desire to compete ate me up inside. I knew I had to tell my father the truth.

When I turned 13 my father told me that I was beginning to become a man. He told me how proud he was. That I was going to be the next big thing in the medical world. I couldn’t hold it in anymore, the words erupted from my mouth like vomit. I remember that moment more than any other in my life. My fathers face went blank. No it went dark. He muttered something under his breath as he walked out the room and I cried myself to sleep. 

Joe Rogan: Oh man, you cried like a b****?

Super EmBare AssMint: The next couple months were extremely difficult. Mom and Dad were constantly fighting. They eventually got a divorce and because of the expensive lawyers my father had, he got full custody. He demanded I quit training and focus only on medical school. I told him my desires to one day compete at the highest level. He proceeded to change my name. That was when he told me I was no longer his son. His exact words, “You no doctor, you no my son. You embarrassment, EmBare AssMint.”

Joe Rogan: Woah, that must have been really tough to take in, did you cry like a baby back b**** again?

Super EmBare AssMint: When I hit 16, I couldn’t be under his roof anymore. I moved out and lived on the street and trained at the local gym in exchange for deep cleaning the gym everyday, even days I didn’t want to train, which was never a problem, because all I had left was training. I trained and trained and felt unstoppable.

I signed up for my first amateur fight. My opponent was giddy at fighting someone named EmBare AssMint. However, I was prepared. I had made weight and fight day approached, I couldn’t help but wish my parents could witness all my hard work come to fruition. The hard truth was, I hadn’t heard from either my mom or my dad in almost a year. This was the first time I had ever been nervous. My entrance song began and the jitters really sunk in. I took a deep breath and began to walk to the arena. As I walked I high fived the crowd, until someone grabbed my hand. They looked at me and said, “You no doctor, you no nothing. You embarrassment.” My heart sank... It was my dad. Here to remind me how I failed him. The rest of the day was a blur, like I was a spectator to a horror story that was my life. I lost the fight in spectacular fashion. The fight went viral, my opponent even made Sports Centers Top 10 from the beat down I got. I was what I never wanted to be, an embarrassment. As I walked out of the ring my dad was cheering, “You no doctor, you no nothing.” I vowed to never fight again.

Joe Rogan: Not going to lie man, I remember that highlight and your face looked like mashed potatoes. Obviously things changed though, you are here now and are fighting at the top of your game. 

Super EmBare AssMint: Yeah, I had a lot of bad years before I ended up a wake up call. I had lived on the streets for several years begging for just enough to keep myself from starvation. I ended up on one of those episodes of “Bum Fights” where I ended up literally ripping the other guys arm off. I had been pushed to my physical and emotional limits and felt no fear. I had a fight promoter call me and tell me he thought I had great potential. He got me a place to stay and signed up for a jui jitsu tournament. I ended up winning the tournament and getting signed by a MMA promoter. I was really good after the first year. I started winning and never wanted to feel what it was like to lose.

After 20 amateur fights, I was 20-0. I decided to go pro at the age of 25. My first professional fight was against another undefeated amateur with 14 wins coming by knockout. I ended up losing the contest by split decision. I took him down 5 times and almost had a rear naked choke make he pass out before the end of the round. It was eye opening, the type of talent you face as a pro. 

I won my next 8 fights all by submission. I caught wind of this tournament and knew I had to get in it. When I entered the tournament, the promoter was kinda off off put by my name. 

Joe Rogan: Yea, what’s with that man. You are an adult, why not change your name?

Super EmBare AssMint: I no longer looked at the name as an insult. When I hit rock bottom, I was an embarrassment. But when I started training again, I really started to feel the persona. I even changed my hair color to mint green. I gave myself the nickname Super, because that’s how I felt, Super. After my fight with Jonathan McKnuckles, I felt I had arrived. I want to win this tournament and have everyone chant my name at the top of their lungs. “AssMint! AssMint! AssMint!”

Joe Rogan: What about your mom and dad? Do you communicate with them anymore?

Super EmBare AssMint: No, I haven’t heard from either of them. The only family I have is in the gym where I train.

Joe Rogan: Ok well, you sure have come a long way. Good luck the rest of the way and thanks for taking the time to interview with me.

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Dome

Dome

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Totally forgot about this lol. started another game and was focused on that.


@Malfatron Hows ol' Junior Ree holding up? All healed? I assume he'll be taking Bruce's last name?

@PuntMyLumps thank you so much for doing this, Rd1 was really cool. You still using my nickname even though it wasn't an option was much appreciated. I did not know Bruce Lee was in the game, but enjoyed hearing you say "Bruce Ree" several times. 

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