Kaufman

Hare

Cole Driscoll can't finish a half-eaten ham sandwich let alone his opponent. That's why he's the Vice President. After this fight, he'll go back to his previous career of teaching junior high girls volleyball. Sad Face will crush you, Driscoll. And then you will be sad, because it's contagious. Like yawning. I will pound your ginger face so far down you'll have a red moustache coming out of your ass. I'm here to get paid. -Sergei "Sad Face Jobber" Blumm

Statement on Behalf of Kaufman Holdings It has to our attention that a CWMMA fighter was recently approached by individuals claiming to be Valentina Konstantinova Kaminova and Vsevelod Kaufman on behalf of CWMMA Owner Matty Fernandez. This is, of course, impossible as Kaufman himself has little dealings with such trivial matters and certainly would not lower himself to do business directly with fighters. The Kaufman organization and individuals associated with Kaufman do not speak on behalf of Mr. Fernandez or the CWMMA. Nor does the Kaufman organization have the authority to offer contracts or fights on behalf of the entity mentioned herein. While Kaufman is involved in vast and varied business ventures across the world, his dealings in combat sports has so far been limited to press relations, communications, and fighter management. On the claim that the Kaufman Organization assisted Mr. Navarro in securing immigration status. At this time, Kaufman does not maintain formal relations or dealings with any governmental entity. It has been confirmed, however, that Mr. Navarro HAS gained immigration status AND secured a contract with the CWMMA. __________________________________________ Purpose, Nice write-up! I look forward to more. Get at me if you want to write something together. Your initiative has been noticed by the CWMMA Brass.

CWMMA: A New Dawn Event Review MAIN EVENT Sam Salter Vs. Al Barru This is the one we had all been waiting for. I had my beverage refreshed and snacks at ready. Got settled in and..oh…OH….AND IT’S ALL OVER! Damn, I hadn’t even taken a sip of my whiskey (Colonel EH Taylor Single Barrel) yet. That was quick. The Salt putting a big W stamp on his career passport with this one, doing so in style and full effect. It took Salter all of 25 seconds to sink in that guillotine and send Al Barru off to dreamland. Why in tarnation would Barru consciously take this fight to the ground with a BJJ Brown Belt boasting an 8-fight win streak… with all 8 win coming by way of SUBMISSION. Enough about that, Sam Salter came in hot and come out the other end HOTTER. Lower weight divisions, take notice, Sam “The Salt” Salter is HERE! Sam had this to say in his post-fight interview: Prediction: It’s impossible to ignore Sam Salter’s 8 submission wins. We’re going with Salty’s BJJ action by the first-round submission. Result: Salty’s BJJ action by first-round submission CO-MAIN EVENT Riku Nobunaga vs. Crazy Legs As expected, this was a ground war made especially for the viewing pleasure of BJJ stylists. The judges never forget who took it to the ground at the outset of each round, with Crazy Legs scoring takedowns well-executed takedowns. Certainly, Nobunaga was comfortable going there and didn’t mind. We would imagine it factored into the scorecards. Ultimately, the dubya went to the more active fighter. It wasn’t a blow-out by any means, though. No one tapped. Perhaps the only true losers were those fans without appreciations for the finer points of submission grappling. Sadly, that is a lot of fans ☹. Prediction: Nobunaga, second round submission. Safe choice here. All things equal Nobunaga holds edge were both fighters excel. Result: Crazy Legs wins via ALL judges’ scorecards. Well done, big guy. Paulo Maldini vs. Mario Thomas Both of these men had demonstrated a considerable penchant and acumen for striking in previous fights. Fans were surely expecting a nicely giftwrapped package full of FISTS! And boy, did these guys DELIVER. Three rounds chock-full of back-and-forth face smeshing action. Let’s break it down a little bit. The first round had Thomas really showcasing his wares. This is likely where he landed the majority of his significant strikes. All three judges recognized this and gave him the first round. After that, Thomas kept up his striking, but Maldini really took over. In the second round, Maldini scored points by showing dominance in the clinch. No offense was delivered in that position, but he entered and exited with ease. The third round Thomas still pressed ahead in true warrior fashion. Maldini just had him out-skilled in deep water and nearly finished it with a flurry at the end. Thomas is no slouch, he bit down on his mouthpiece and held on till the end. Mario Thomas had this to say after his Loss: Nice sportsmanship there, brother. The fans were the true winners. Thanks for the action! Prediction: Really hard to call. Maldini split decision. It’s going to be a damn slug fest. Can’t wait. Result: ALL Judges give this epic war to Paulo Maldini Great work gentlemen. Fight of the fuckin Night ova here!! Floki Magnusson vs. Matteo Sanchez What can we say about this fight that can’t be seen by the redness and bruising on Cabron’s face and body after it’s conclusion. Matteo seemed to have the right idea of using his length to try to keep Floki on the outside and pepper him with head kicks, hoping on would put him out. But plans are thrown out the window against a game opponent once you’ve stepped foot in that cage. Magnusson had a strategy of his own, which he executed with the utmost perfection. Smother the crap out of Sanchez and hit him in all kinds of ways until he goes down. Done and Done. Cabron’s team will be looking at helping him avoiding getting cut like he did early on in the first round. All that said, Matteo has a committed fanbase and solid management team. Look for him to bounce back and make the CABRON NATION proud very soon. Prediction: Iceland by 2nd round TKO Result: Iceland by 1st round TKO Victor Contrieras vs. Terrance Gerin We were right about one thing. These guys came out swingin’ It was not hard to tell from the jump that by the end of this one, at least one guy was going to be waking up thinkin’ it’s last week. Gerin made a bad move and paid for it dearly coming out on the wrong end of a face full of paw. I’m sure had he been asked he would have opted to keep going. But it was in the referee’s hands. Gerin appeared to be trying to keep Mad Dog at the end of his jab and set up a finish in the later rounds. Mad Dog clearly had other ideas, throwing power punches from the bell. The fans absolutely devoured this one and I’m sure they can’t wait for the next card featuring both of these fighters. This one will be in highlight reels for years to come. Big ups to Mad Dog for KO of the fuckin Night. Listen, guys, no more checking the time when you fight Mad Dog. He’ll tell you what time it is. Bedtime. Prediction: Mad Dog by decision Result: Mad Dog TKO Strikes Round One! GIVE THE DOG MORE MEAT!! Thorvald Nansen vs. Da Two Well, we said it here, Da Two isn’t good enough to go to the ground with Nansen. There ya go. Torden earns the tap out round one. He nearly tore his damn arm out. Hopefully, Da Two doesn’t suffer any long term damage. To be fair, it wasn’t exactly Two’s choice to go to the ground the first place. Da Two was basically knocked around and rag-dolled for the entire match mustering one successful strike. Nansen showed such caliber in every aspect of his game in UNDER four minutes, that it should rightfully prove worrisome to his future opposition. Prediction: Torden first round TKO Result: Torden by 1st round submission (kimura) eL IsoG vs. Leevi Saros As we recall from the pre-event presser, Leevi Saros placed a stone an equal distance between him and eL IsoG. IsoG subsequently hurled the stone into the abyss. But did he really, in their consciousness. Or perhaps that stone remained, subconsciously placed an equal distance between them, all the way through till the last bell was rung? Maybe there’s more to this humble, hometown hero that meets the eye. Certainty, we will have time to find out as this rivalry has tumbled over into social media with each fighter and their teams having choice words for each other and the judges ever since the unpopular decision was rendered. Looking through the match, it really could have gone either way with each fighter showing sparks of brilliance. It was just too little, too late for IsoG, who showed himself to be the better fighter in the clinch. Clearly, the judges didn’t weigh his work there as heavily as other judges may have. We can expect the fiery and effusive eL IsoG to be back with a vengeance against anyone he’s put up against. And he won’t be looking for the decision. But, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This rivalry is FAR from over. If I were a matchmaker, I’d put these boys back in there right quick and let ‘em finish what they started. Prediction: IsoG by split decision Result: Draw. Like kissing ya sister. Saint George vs. Christopher Nolen Chris Nolen wasn’t ready. The pressure was too much for him apparently. It looks he had a game plan, but it was quickly squashed as he was overwhelmed by Saint George early in the first round. Knuckles is a young guy, one loss ain’t killed no one yet (well, mostly). He’ll be back and with the right training he’ll have a future in the CWMMA and maybe even SYN, one day. We can’t look past “Sir” Saint George here though. This man delivered a stellar performance and will require more game (no disrespect, knuckles) opposition in the near future. Expect fireworks from Saint George and also, he can expect fighters to start asking about his unorthodox training which is said to involve literally living like a knight. Apparently, that shit is legit. Prediction: “Sir” Saint George will please his lord with a first round KO Result: The right honorable “Sir” Saint George by first round TKO by punches. The Lord will be pleased. William Gray vs. Eden Tiah All credit to Eden Tiah for making it all the way to the end. A lessor man would have crumbled under the relentless beatdown rained upon him by the man known as ‘Boozer.’ Gold Fist stayed in it the whole match and avoided getting finished, unfortunately, that’s where the good news ended for him. Gray dictated the pace and levels in each of the three rounds AND had incredible accuracy and diversity in his striking. A little more heat on those strikes may have netted him a TKO. William Gray had this to say to members of the media who had predicted his defeat: Prediction: Gold Fist by 2nd round TKO Result: …wait for it…Williaaaammmm “Booooozzzzeeerrr” Grraaaayyyyyy says don’t count me out, bitches. Unleashes three rounds of whupass! Wins the hearts of all three judges. Unanimous Decision. Dustin Sleeth vs. Patryk Mikolajczyk If this one had stayed on its feet, it may have ended with Miko’s hand raised. He was able to string together some nice kicks and even had some slight success in the clinch. Although not much. Once it hit the ground, he was in Dustin Sleeth’s element completely. He answered with a tiny bit of of ground pound, but had answers for little else. Dustin Sleeth, meanwhile, patiently grinded out a nice win for himself. It may not earn him many new fans, but no doubt it will give him a good starting point in his division. A win is a win, people. Sleeth may look to start to focus more on taking one piece of his game. While his knowledge of various martial arts will make him a threat in the lower rankings, faced with an opponent with an obvious strength in a given style may expose Dustin’s weaknesses in his coming bouts. An emphasis on BJJ likely would have netted him a finish in this one. Let’s forget all that for now and let Dustin celebrate an impressive win. Cheers to you, Dustin. Prediction: Sleeth gets the Dubbya by first round tapout Result: Dustin Sleeth Unanimous Decision

This can be arranged, sir. -Kaufman P.S. You did a nice little interview already. I enjoyed it.

The atmosphere is electric in the typically quiet lobby of the CWMMA Headquarters building in Helsinki Finland. There are people scattered all over. Reporters, cameras, Helsinki based fighters and teams, fighters/teams who have arrived for a NEW DAWN, and committed fans. A nervous Dick Bakeman is hobbling around somewhere in the crowd. Most fighters are in the zone. We are less than 24 hours away from fist-meets-face time! At one end of the room is podium with the CWMMA logo and rows of folding chairs set out in front of it. There is an area in the front for photographers. A similar set-up to the New Dawn Press Conference, except no table. The clock strikes the appropriate hour and an announcer calls for everyone to be seated. CWMMA staff assist in corralling everyone into their chairs. For approximately one minute, nothing happens. The crowd looks around eager to discern the source of this alleged BIG ANNOUNCEMENT that everyone was hastily assembled for. Suddenly, the elevator doors behind the rows of chairs open. Out stroll top CWMMA brass, Matty Fernandez followed closely by John Wayne sporting cowboy hat. Mr. Wayne appears to be wearing a holster at his side containing…a calculator. Math is a powerful weapon, folks. Stay in school. They are followed by several staffers who take their seats promptly. Matty and John make their way to the front of the room, taking ample time to share pleasantries with members of the audience and press. When they reach the podium, John takes a seat in reserved chair in the front row. Matty Fernandez: Hello…good day to you all. Happy to see so many of you made it on short notice. Believe me, it’s been a crazy week. I know I said, there was no major announcement earlier this week. Well folks (Matty smiles) I lied. (Crowd reacts) We had to do our due diligence, okay? And now we are ready to make the announcement. As you know, CWMMA is new organization. Our goal was always to provide a platform for up-and-coming fighters and catapult them to the biggest, most established organizations out there. We’ve made a HUGE step in that direction. I am absolutely THRILLED to announce that Caged Warriors MMA has joined the SYN Family. Now, as an official development organization for the MOST HYPED MMA promotion in the WORLD. Our fighters will be just ONE STEP AWAY from the pound-for-pound best. I’m sure you all have a ton of questions and I assure you they will be answered. But not right now. John and I have sooo much paperwork to complete and don’t forget, A NEW DAWN is in like 20 hours. Not to worry, we’ll be having a live TV interview with myself and Chuck W94 in the coming days hosted by the one and only “Legend” Kale Suanders and (takes a deep breath)…and urgh, Dick Bakeman too. You happy now, DICK?! I promise all of your questions will be answered. Till then. Ciao. Matty and John powerwalk straight toward the elevators, this time avoiding interactions with adoring fans and other unsavory individuals. These men are on a mutha fuckin mission.

Good work, Destin. Looking forward to reading more.

Meanwhile, at CWMMA Headquarters in the Sörnäinen neighborhood of Helsinki. Good afternoon, you’ve reached the executive offices of Caged Warriors MMA, how may I direct your call? I need to speak with Matty Fernandez NOW! May I ask who is calling, please? It’s Dick Bakeman from ABC…That’s D-I-C-K B-A-K-E-M-A-N from A-B-C. Get me Matty, now! Please hold while I transfer the call. CWMMA’s executive administrative assistant places Dick Bakeman of ABC on hold and presses two buttons on the phone at the corner of her desk. Matty, we have a Dick…Bakeman from ABC on the line for you. It sounds urgent. Should I put him through? Matty Fernandez is at his desk going over stacks of documents. There are binders piled high on one side. Several open binders with charts and graphs on top of each other on the other side. Matty reviews one of the graphs placing his finger on some key point, makes a notes on his pad, and types several strokes on a keyboard attached to a sleek desktop computer. The administrative assistants voice startles him. He jumps up to look for the phone under the mounds of paper, nudging his desk and dumping a portion of its contents. Matty Fernandez: Eh Shit…Ok, Olivia, give me 20 seconds and then put him through. Matty starts to smooth out his hair and brush crumbs off of his shirt. Then he remembers it’s a phone call. No one can see you. D’oh. Go ahead and put him through. MATTY, IT'S BAKEMAN. YOU MOTHER FUCKER..I'M GOING TO HAVE THE LAWYERS SO FAR UP YOUR... Slow down, Dick. I can’t understand what you’re saying if you yell like that. Dick…calm down. What? The electricity in your house went out? Why are you telling me this, call your power company. Oh…yeah, that’s weird. No…no don’t call the police I know this is serious, DICK. Dick…Dick…SHUT THE FUCK UP DICK! Listen, we already formally apologized to you about what happened. It is deeply regrettable. You got the check to cover your medical expense, yeah? I’m sure you noticed we also included extra for…emotional damages. I don’t why the check came from SYN, I’m not an accountant, I don’t send the checks KAUFMAN?! I don’t have any clue if he had anything to do with it. For all we know, it could have been…Russian hackers…hahaha. Too soon? Ok, you’re right it’s not funny. I didn’t know all your bank accounts and credit cards were compromised. Look, off the record, I haven’t even met the guy. I think I talked to him once. They say he’s going to show up, but that stone-cold-bitch Valentina shows up instead. Their business practices leave much to be desired. But the signatures show up on time. And the work…well, let’s just say he can deliver. I already told you, I don’t know anything about him. I’m not a private investigator. Do your own damn research, Dick. You work for ABC, don’t you? I know, buddy. We owe you…we’ll make it right. Fine…alright. You got me. There MIGHT be something major afoot. There WILL be a major announcement coming very, very soon. Dick, you better get your ass on a plane to Helsinki.

KAUFMAN presents FIGHTER’S LIFE Episode 1.2 The Deair Shaw Story …Vernita Perkins: And here you are, a professional fighter, the gang life seemingly in your rearview. What changed? Deair Shaw: *smiles sincerely* It wasn’t a what, Vernita. It was a who. *Deair displays twinkle in his eye* VP: Ok Ok *wags her finger at Deair slyly* I recognize that look. Boy, now you got Vernita interested…spill the beans! *We are back to the familiar alley where all the turning points in life just seem to occur. Everything looks the same. Same trash, same shit smell, same dim lighting, same metal bin. It’s as if nothing has changed, except time. At one end of the alley, the footsteps and dissonance of belligerent youths is heard. It is Deair and his crew. Same as a few years back, only further into the throes of puberty. They strut along, punting anything in their path. On the other side of the alley, walking toward them, are two teenage girls. One is especially radiant. Emitting a certain…glow. As they prepare to meet in the middle, members of Deair’s posse start to get riled up, sensing prey approaching* Thug 1: Hey girl, why don’t you smile. C’mon baby smile for daddy. Thug 2: Where you goin? What, you don’t wanna come hang out? I could think of plenty of fun things we could all do together. *Deair’s crew erupts with laughter and exchanges congratulatory fist bumps at the “wisecrack.” Deair reluctantly joins the banter. The teenage girls, suddenly scared and uncertain, focus their gazes down trying to avoid eye contact. They attempt to squeeze past the group, but one of Deair’s peers gets directly in front of them and blocks their way. He takes a few steps forward, into the girl with the special aura. She stumbles back against the wall. The thug places the palm of his outstretched arm against the wall so that his wrist passes just near the girl’s ear and gets in her face. The girl tries to shrinks lower and squirms to avoid being directly in front of him. Tears stream down her face* Thug 3: Listen, bitch, you either start playin nice or we can do this a different way. Either way, we gettin somethin tonight. *The gang hoots and hollers in the background. Deair looks at the young girl against the wall crying, then to her friend who is also now quietly sobbing and shakes his head slowly. His boys are too engaged in their abuse to notice the look of consternation that unexpectedly, even for himself, crosses his face. The invisible stone mask he had been wearing for his entire conscious life seemed to fall to the ground and shatter. An unfamiliar tightness gripped Deair’s stomach and then his chest* Thug 4: Look what I got! *Thug 4 pulls a Velcro wallet out from the other girl’s purse, which she had hanging around her shoulder. He holds up the wallet proudly. The girl tries to grab at her wallet. But the thug moves his hand quickly taunting the teenage girl in the process* DS: ENOUGH! *All the thugs turn to him* That’s it. We done with these bitches. Why fuckin you with em anyways. This girl *points to the girl against the wall* lives in the neighborhood. Thug 4: Yo Savage, you betta slow your roll there. We know you tough, but you don’t call the shots. *Thug 4 begins to open the wallet, the loud CRUUUUNCH of the Velcro’s undoing amplified by the tension in the air. Before Thug 4 could open the wallet, Deair grabs the wallet out of Thug 4’s hand with lightening speed. So fast that Thug 4 is left looking at his empty, outstretched hand. The thug looks at his hand and then at Deair. His eyes fill with rage and his outstretched hand clenches into a fist. Thug 5, the apparent shot-caller, intervenes* Thug 5: Nah Nah, *To Deair* Joker is right, these hos on our turf. They gonna get taxed like everyone else. *Thug 5 prods a few thugs out of his way and confidently saunters over to the girl still trembling against the wall. He put his index and middle finger under her chin and lifts up her face. Two teary, mascara-stained eyes stare back at him petrified. He runs his hand down the girl’s cheek* Thug 5: Don’t you worry, girl, we’ll take gooood care of you. Why don’t you give me a kiss and we could forget about this whole mix-up, huh? Seeing as how you and your girl have been so rude to us and all. *Thug 5 puckers his lips and moves in for a kiss. The girl tries to turn her head to avoid the thug’s advance. She does not need to, however. Before the thug’s mouth could reach hers, it is met by the unforgiving right cross of Deair “King” Shaw!* POW! Thugs: WTF?!? *Deair steps in front of the girl, between her and slept thug on the ground, shielding her with his freakishly wide frame. The thugs converge. Deair lurches forward, head down, throwing wild haymakers. It’s not pretty…or technical, but doggonit, it’s effective. With each punch, thugs are thrown back and off to the sides until Deair stands alone at the center of the alley with thugs out cold or barely recovering all around him. The two girls stand hugging each other against the wall. Moments before Deair dispatches the last two thugs, a car speeds into the alley and makes a screeching halt in front of the group, the headlights illuminating the entire scene. Two athletically built men run to where the scuffle is ensuing. They reach it just as Deair throws his final punch. One of the men swiftly grabs Deair’s arm as he is pulling it back from the punch. The youth struggles for a second, but the man is able to skillfully maneuver the arm behind Deair’s back and slam him face-first against the brick wall. One of the girls jumps forward and grabs the man’s arm* Girl: Daddy, no! He helped us. He saved us from them!! *The man stares at the girl stunned for a second. It takes him a second to snap out of fight mode. “Oh!” he exclaims, wide-eyed, before slowly releases his grip on Deairs arm and swinging him around until they are facing each other. The man firm grabs Deair’s collar with one hand* Man: This guy?! *roughly poking Deair in the chest* This guy helped you? Girl: Yes, daddy, I’m telling you. His friends started messing with us and he…*Looks up at her father* he stood up for us. He fought them…he fought ALL of them. Man: *To Deair* You know, maybe I had you all wrong, son. *stretches out his hand…Deair shakes it* my name is Jackson Williams, I train and manage a few fighters at the gym down the street. No one big…yet. I’ve seen you around here, mostly causing trouble. By the looks of it, you can fight. Why don’t you come down to the gym and we’ll try you out. It’s the least I can do for you *puts his arm around his daughter’s shoulder* watching out for my little girl. *The girl steps forward from under her father’s arm towards Deair. She looks down at her feet and then up at him smiling shyly. The girl reaches out and takes one of Deair’s meaty hands in hers. Their eyes meet. Deair isn’t sure what is going on. He feels light-headed and nauseous. In a good way, if that’s possible. His stomach suddenly feels like it is full of butterflies and they are all singing harmoniously. Fireworks explode inside him. The girl’s hand feels warm and comforting. Like home.* Girl: *looking right into Deairs eyes* Thank you for helping us. My name’s Lucy. To be continued…

Arigatō

Media Scrum at SynCity Promotions Administrative Headquarters Las Vegas, Nevada Approx. 1:27 PM We open on a long rectangular building, several stories tall at the outskirts of Las Vegas. Glass covers the entire front of the building displaying the rapid movement of workers inside. Neatly manicured trees and brush line the front of the building. Adjacent to the front entrance is a large white sign displaying an immaculate SynCity Promotions Logo. A curious choice of Administrative Headquarters for the world’s MOST HYPED promotion, Synchronicity. Perhaps a bit reserved in the eyes of fans who may have been expecting a more flamboyant aesthetic. Make no mistakes about it though, this beehive of activity is truly where the magic happens. This is a place where lives are changed with the click of a mouse or a swipe of a pen. If you’re an MMA fighter, this is your Mecca. Outside of the building there is a media scrum with their microphones and cameras laying in wait to pounce on the next person who exits. Several news vans line the sidewalk in front of the building. Media attention is not at all unusual for Syn. However, this level of frenzied anticipation is a not the norm. Something is happening… Several black luxury vehicles with tinted windows pull up to the side entrance of the building, the VIP entrance. Designed to be away from the prying eyes of the news media. The vehicles pull up and stop, bumper-to-bumper, in rapid succession. The double doors of the VIP entrance burst open with a bang and an entourage emerges hastily. Recognizable figures: Matty Fernandez – Venerable owner of upstart CWMMA organization. Dressed more formally than usual in a business suit undoubtedly selected by Ms. Fernandez. Matty is at the helm of the group. He’s got minions and lackeys from CWMMA’s legal and accounting departments trying to get his attention while he attempts to make his way to the vehicle at the head of the line. He is clearly trying to avoid the press. John Wayne – CWMMA CEO and Matchmaker John Wayne is at Matty’s side. He also has several staffers nipping at him like chihuahuas. John looks to be reviewing a hefty ream of financial statements between strides. Vsevelod Kaufman – Kaufman is not present but has sent two emissaries and a team of bodyguards to round out the CWMMA troika. The contingent is led by his long-time attorney and spokesperson, Valentina Konstantinovna Kaminova and a junior associate. Interspersed through the group is a team of steely-eyed men showing no emotion. Their heads are on a swivel, constantly surveying the perimeter. This is not your average celebrity protection. These men come from military backgrounds that will never be declassified, because they never “existed.” If they had online dating profiles (which they don’t), the interests would say things like “taking orders” and “violence,” maybe “digging holes.” Immediately upon seeing the line of vehicles approaching, the media scrum swarms towards the VIP exit surrounding the entry way in seconds. Even some of these more rotund reporters can move quickly under the right circumstances. Matty and the team manage a few steps before ABC Sports Reporter Dick Bakeman sticks a fat microphone into his face. Out of nowhere. Before Bakeman is even able to utter a single syllable, one of Kaufman’s security enforcers lunges forward. Within 2 seconds, the microphone is on the ground, camera lens is shattered, and the bodyguard has ABC’s Dick Bakeman in a standing Ezekiel choke. The much taller bodyguard has Bakeman lifted 10 inches off of the ground. Caught by surprise like everyone else, Bakeman’s eyes are bugging out of his head and he is making gurgling noises, as a forearm collapses his windpipe. At the same instant, as if on cue, the rest of the security detail surrounds the media scrum and takes a ready position. Each with a hand resting near holsters on their hip, ready to engage their sidearms. Matty and much of the team outside of Kaufman’s emissaries are stunned at the sudden and flagrantly disproportionate escalation. Matty Fernandez: Whoa Whoa, Killer. They’re just doing their jobs. Matty starts to reach over to remove the bodyguard from Bakeman, but changes his mind. The bodyguard seems to be in a trance-like state. He maintains his hold despite shrieks of bystanders. Matty: Valentina, make him stop! Call back your dogs. Matty shakes his head in disbelief and is heard muttering under his breath “what is wrong with these people?” Пернелл! Отставить!! (PERNELL! AS YOU WERE!) Valentina’s voice is bold. Yet, she doesn’t shout. Valentina Konstantinova isn’t the type of women to shout. Her abrupt and powerful cadence does the job just a fine. Within a millisecond of the orders issuance Pernell releases Bakeman, who drops to the floor whimpering and heaving to catch his breath. Pernell recedes into entourage. In rapid-fire succession, Valentina issues another order. Вольно! (AT EASE) In unison, the rest of the security team remove their hands from near their holsters and relax ever-so-slightly. Their shoulders slouch just a tad. The movements are so instinctual that they are only even noticeable to the most experienced observer. Another reporter steps up into the place of the shaken Dick Bakeman and careful extends a bright yellow mic towards Matty. Jarmo Santennen: Hello, Matty, this is Jarmo Santennen with Helsingin Sanomat. At the outset I have to say, Matty. This (Jarmo points to the security at the permitter) is very alarming. I think I speak for much of my colleagues when I say, we felt like we were on positive terms with you. What happened here is very inappropriate. Matty: Thank you, Jarmo. I apologize to the fans. Dick, please forgive us on behalf of Pernell. I have to be honest, I’m not really sure what this is all about. We invited Kaufman. As usual he sent Valentina Konstantinova. This time, he sent something extra. I couldn’t tell you why. I want to be perfectly clear, CWMMA is a totally legitimate business. You can check yourselves, as I’m sure you have, we have all of our paperwork in order. Every fight we have is sanctioned and everyone is paid on time, every time. One more thing and no offense to parties present, Kaufman doesn’t run this show. We have engaged Kaufman’s organization to run media and public relations, that’s it. We don’t even have security outside of our standard event security, because we don’t need it. It’s just not that kind of organization. Okay, we’re in a hurry. Jarmo, you can get one more and then it’s wheels up back to Helsinki. Jarmo: The reason we are here today, Matty. There are all kinds of rumors swirling. We are getting tips that you have some sort of major announcement for us. Would you like to make the announcement now? Matty Fernandez: I’m going to put these rumors to bed RIGHT NOW! There is NO major announcement. Now OR forthcoming! Chuck W94 was gracious enough to invite us to Las Vegas for a cup of tea, we accepted the invitation and now we’re here. See, that’s all. That’s the big news is: We drank tea. If you want to write about something, we’ve got our first event, A NEW DAWN on Saturday. Keep an eye out, there will be a press conference mid-week to discuss that. Ok, Jarmo. Hope you got what you needed. Folks, we’ve got a long flight ahead of us. See you back in Helsinki. On the jet some hours later. Valentina Konstantinova is at the bar in the back of the jet refilling her vodka (neat, in case you were wondering). Much of the other passengers are either asleep or full engaged in their work. Matty pulls up along-side Valentina and squeezes in next to her so they are almost face-to-face. Valentina, we talked about this up front. Your people gave me assurances they said came straight from Kaufman that is would not be an issue. We run an MMA promotion. That’s it. Nothing else. I don’t give a flying fuck what else Kaufman has going on. I don’t want to hear about oil and gas pipelines, media channels, exotic animals, and whatever else you guys are cooking over there. The underground life is in the past. I’m married with kids now. I don’t need your goons pulling their weapons every time a reporter asks a question. It’s bad for business, plain and simple. Meester Feernandez, I must correct you. Pernell did not draw his weapon. I don’t give a shit if he drew a fucking bunny rabbit! He nearly killed an ABC reporter. Now we’re going to have to give Bakeman some scoops…or something, so that ABC doesn’t sue. I’m serious, Valentina, no more of this shit. Do I make myself clear? Vee vill see, Meester Feernandez, vee vill see.

Sergei Blumm Joins the Job Squad Scene opens at Navy Street MMA. A bustling gym located in Venice, California. The gym is at about 65% capacity with everyone having ample space to work out with their teams on the excellent-quality equipment. In the back corner of the gym is Rock-A-Fella FC lightweight fighter Sergei “Sad Face” Blumm. Blumm is shadow boxing in front of a large heavy bag, but instead of punching the bag, he is allowing the bag to hit him in the face each time it swings in his direction. Blumm is essentially face-butting the bag, letting out a loud “Ommf” every time the bag connects. Besides the heavy bag, stands a colossal, bald-headed goon. The goon is barking instructions at Blumm in an Eastern European language. The buzzer sounds signaling to the fighters the start of their 30-second break. Sergei, clearly frustrated, throws his hands in the air, exclaiming to the goon “What is this training? This isn’t striking defense!” The goon stares down at Sergei annoyed. Blumm gets the hint, shakes his head, and goes back to the bag The buzzer sounds. Blumm takes a deep breath and resumes faceplanting himself into the heavy punching bag. A few feet away from Sad Face’s workout area, a cadre of oddly shaped men and women are in the process of an “unorthodox” workout. They are being led by a bulky man, just over 6 ft. in height. He’s got long hair tied up in a pony tail and black-rimmed glasses. The gray lightly sprinkled in his hair and goatee are the only tells that he has advanced into middle age. The man pulls out his phone and films their “workout.” The odd bunch lines up, each with a folding chair. A chubby midget with a mullet haircut and NASCAR t-shirt emerges to the front of the pack. One by one, his cohorts proceed to smash him over the head, back, and face with their folding chairs. The portly midget takes the shots surprisingly well, prancing about from chair shot to chair shot like a sleep-walking toddler. The round-ending buzzer sounds once again. The chair shots cease. On his end, Blumm removes his face from the bag. He sits down glumly on a chair against the wall next to the bag, resting his elbows on his knees with his head in his palms. He looks sad. Even for sad face. The man leading the workout next to them walks over. “Hey buddy, what’s wrong?” Blumm looks up at him and signs deeply. “I think my career is over. Look, they are having me train to take punches I’m supposed to be training to give punches. Now the Kaufman lawyers sent me this fight and I don’t know if I can even compete with this guy. He’s got way more experience, even though he’s a few years younger.” The man looks Sergei Blumm up and down with a knowing smile. “I know exactly how you feel. Hey, my name’s Allen. Most people know me as Al. You’re Sergei Blumm, aren’t you. I caught the highlights of a Rock-A-Fella FC card recently. Tough break there on that decision.” Blumm looks up at Al confused. He then turns his head towards Al's work out area, where the midget is now cleaning blood pouring out his ear. “Nice to meet you, Al. No offense, but what do you know about how I feel. And what is this training you are doing. This is worse than the “striking defense” Slava has me doing.” Sergei motions over to the goon, who remains emotionless. Al smiles, “You must not be a professional wrestling fan. Most people familiar with pro wrestling know me as Al Snow. Trust me, I’ve been in your shoes before. Sometimes in MMA, just like pro wrestling you need to take one for the team. In wrestling we call it “jobbing.” You know ahead of time you’re going to lose, but you go out there and you put on a show.” Sergei shakes his head in disbelief, “Lose? On purpose?? And you know ahead of time. How could you agree to this???” Al Snow acknowledges Sergei’s point with a nod, and continues… “I get what you’re saying. You sound like you’ve never heard of pro wrestling at all. It’s not exactly like MMA. Let me tell you a little story. I started wrestling back in 1982. For more than 10 years, I plugged away on the regional circuit hoping to get a chance at the bigtime, the WWF. That would be like you getting a contract with the top promotion in the world, Synchronicity. I had brief stints where I got called up, but it didn’t stick. Until 1998. I got another callback from the WWF. I created a gimmick where I was a “jobber” and had a stable called “The Job Squad.” I was going through some shit at the time. But I’ll tell ya, that was when the fans really started to recognize me. I even got to compete for the Hardcore Championship Belt at WrestleMania.” As Al tells the story, Sergei’s eyes narrow in confusion at various points. As Al takes a breath,Sergei pipes in, “Now I’m really confused. You became successful in the WWF by…losing?” Al Snow picks up where he left off… “I’m getting to that, kid. Here’s what you gotta realize. It’s not always about you. Sometimes it takes putting others over, to get ahead. As Dwayne used to say back in the day, ‘you better know your role…and shut your mouth.’ Think about it from the promotor’s perspective, there are only so many fighters in each weight class they can book. Sometimes the match-ups can go your way, sometimes they don’t. In wrestling, sometimes the angle just goes over better when you lose. Now, think about how frustrated you would be if you couldn’t get a fight. That’s where your opponent may be at right now. In pro wrestling, when you lose, you can “put over” the other guy. That means you make them look good and make fans believe their character. That’s the key, Sergei. You do it for the fans. The fans don’t care who wins or loses. They pay their hard-earned money to see YOU put on a show. And hey, you probably get a couple bucks in the process too. You see what I’m saying, son?” Sergei nods slowly as he absorbs Al’s wise words. Still unconvinced, he pulls out his phone from the duffel bag underneath his chair. “Ok, I hear you, Mr. Al. It just seems unfair. This is the guy they want me to fight.” He clicks a few times and presents the phone to Al, who looks it over. Al glances up at Sergei and shrugs, “I mean, it doesn’t look great for you on paper. You just gotta go in there and fight like hell. Give it your best and leave it all out there. You’re a pro fighter, time to sack up and do your job. Even if that means being a “jobber” for now…Shit, I haven’t even gotten to the point of the story yet and the round is about to start.” Al’s eyes meet Sergei’s and he places his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “The bottom line is, I’ve been in the pro wrestling business for 38 years. Even though I jobbed matches here and there, and had the “Job Squad” gimmick, no one that knows a damn thing remembers me as a jobber. If you talk to people who know pro wrestling, I have one of the most impressive careers out there. You keep your head down and train hard, you’ll get there one day too. Now, quit your bitching and hit accept already. Also, I got something for you.” Al walks over to his area and digs in his stuff. After digging through his gear for a moment, he pulls out a ratty t-shirt that has to be at least 20 years old. He takes a few steps towards Sergei, and tosses him the shirt. “Welcome to the Squad, kid. I think you need this more than I do” Sad Face catches it and holds it up in front of him. Sergei “Sad Face” Blumm folds the t-shirt and sticks it into his bag. He takes a deep breath and clicks “Accept” to the fight offer. Just as he does, the buzzer sounds and a new round begins.

yes, more options good.

I don' t know where I am or how I got here. But this is the funniest fucking thread on these forums.