Oh, You Didn't Know He Could Fight?

The Romans had a penchant for something. Like modern society, they’d take a day or two a week, drink an obscene amount of booze, and watch athletes do the physically impossible, or die trying. The Colosseum hosted bloodsport. Men would fight lions, tigers, and bears. (Oh my!) But, just a few hundred yards from the Forum, man’s greatest enemy wasn’t a beast. It wasn't a machine. It was another man. Fighting for honor and glory, the main event at the Colosseum was seeing two people fight, and more often than not, these fights went to the death. It was barbaric, sure, but when your expected lifespan isn’t much higher than 35, you take entertainment in whatever way you can get. 

Last weekend, I experienced what a modern day colosseum would feel like. Friday night, my friends and I piled into someone’s car, and drove an hour or so to (yikes) Gary, Indiana. In Gary, we found ourselves at the Hardrock Casino to watch Elite Fight Night 30. 

“But Billy,” you’re thinking, “you don’t seem like the type to enjoy combat sports. Why were you there?” 

Well first off, you don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m about. I may not study martial arts, but I actually really do enjoy watching people beat the piss out of each other in an organized manner. Sure, people get hurt, but they signed up for this. They knew the risks, so why can’t I watch?

But you’re right, I’m a big softie. Why would I be at an amateur fight night in (yuck) Gary, Indiana? The reason I was in the hole that is Gary, at a cigarette smoke filled casino, was because I knew one of the fighters. 

Let me introduce you to one of my best friends. David Capron and I met in our Freshman year high school biology class. We sat at the same table and while we didn’t become friends immediately, we were friendly with each other right out of the gate. We continued being friendly with each other for about a year, and in Sophomore year we realized we were at the same table for a science class once again. (Side note: I literally just now figured out that we were seated together because our last names were close in alphabetical order. Christ, I'm stupid.) This time, we were seated near the back of the classroom, which meant we could goof off a little more. It wasn't great for our science grade, but it was good for us two young men. Then, Dave convinced me to join wrestling. 

Oh, you didn’t know I wrestled in high school? Yeah, neither did the team. I was simply god awful at the sport. Like, I never won a single match in the two years I was on the mats. But that’s okay, because even the worst wrestler can pin an untrained person. Sometimes. (My friend Nate and I are 1-1, and I intend to keep it that way. I prefer to use my words during conflict these days.) 

Anyways, David and I would head to practice after school, where I would trudge around, sweat, and just generally be bad for team morale. Conversely, Dave would demonstrate that being a black belt in Judo almost guarantees that you’d be the best wrestler in the room. Turns out that’s a skill that translates pretty well. But Dave isn’t just a good wrestler, he’s a very talented athlete. He played soccer during the fall, and otherwise trained in something the whole year round. 

Look, I’ll level with you, I’m doing my best to keep David’s ego in check here, but after what I saw on Friday that’s gonna be pretty difficult. The man may be a moron, (I get to say this, you don’t. Knowing a man for 10 years earns you privileges like that. He’s my moron, not yours) but dammit, he can kick the living shit out of anyone who crosses him. 

At this point in our high school careers, we were used to each other, but we weren’t quite friends yet. I can pinpoint the exact moment that would change though. After practice one day, he was taking his shoes off and I was standing talking to him. Holding my bright pink metal water bottle, (that I still have by the way, reusing is cool) we were having a conversation about something or other. Probably girls. Then, I had the genius idea of bouncing the metal bottle off Dave’s head. It wasn’t malicious, I was just weird in high school. The bottle made a “boing” sound that neither of us expected. 

For what felt like a lifetime, I held my breath. 

Dave looked up, stared at me for a second, and I was convinced I was about to receive an ass-kicking for the ages. Then I heard: 

“Do that again.” 

There was no anger in his voice, no challenge, he just wanted to hear the sound again. From then on, I knew I had a friendship that would last a lifetime. And here we are to this day. 

So, why am I writing this article, touting my friendship with an otherwise unremarkable dude? That’s because I just witnessed this man do something incredible. As previously mentioned, David fought in EFN 30 last Friday. He was the 8th card in the lineup. I got there just as the first fight began, and for about an hour, I watched 14 people square up in a cage. Some fights took the full time, some had TKOs. The most memorable fight for me before Dave’s was the “big man fight.” Brandon McGee vs Cory Newell took all of 11 seconds. McGee took, as far as I recall, no hits, and threw a leg kick that would likely kill me on impact. This kick ended up breaking Newell’s leg, and the fight ended in a TKO. Thank god it wasn’t a compound fracture. If you saw the Duke vs. Louisville March Madness game in 2013, you needn’t be reminded of what that looks like. But here’s the video of Kevin Ware breaking his leg just for the hell of it. 

Then, Dave’s card came around. Myself, and about 12 or so people supporting David finally fell silent. Up until the fight began, I was more than confident Dave was going to win. There was something in the air at the Hardrock, other than cigarette smoke, that felt truly good that Friday night. Dave walked out, everyone cheered, but something inside me began to tense. My muscles tightened, my jaw clenched. It wasn’t tetanus, it was nerves. Thankfully, I think I was holding all the nerves for Dave as well as myself. He walked into the cage confident, ready, and poised. As his opponent, Hector Garcia, walked out, David saw something special. Not only were his friends there, but he saw that two of his friends and our high school classmates, Stefen and Julian, had flown all the way from Arizona to see him fight. Then, David made eye contact with me, held up two fingers, and returned his full focus to the fight. 

HOOOOONK! 

An air horn blared. David and his opponent approached each other, tapped gloves, and proceeded to fight one another. For two minutes and forty-seven seconds, these two young men threw body shots, kicks, and strikes. Externally, I was roaring, screaming at my friend to take the other’s head off and put the fear of God into the man. 

Internally, for two minutes and forty-seven seconds, I was shaking. My heart was beating out of my chest, and I was filled with uncertainty. David had fought in one cage fight before last Friday night, where he unfortunately lost. His opponent had a record of 1-3. While Dave may have been more talented than Garcia, Garcia had 3 more fights under his belt. In MMA fighting, that means something. Or at least it did, for two minutes and forty-seven seconds. 

Then, Dave ran up the side of the cage, threw what he has since referred to as a “superman punch,” and hit his opponent. Garcia was standing, but you could tell he’d been fazed. Credit to him, Garcia was able to connect on a few blows after the superman. But, I could see something. Coach Bob could see it, and most importantly, David saw it. 

From here, I saw one of the most incredible athletic feats I’d seen since I witnessed Caleb Williams throw the game tying touchdown to Cole Kmet at Soldier Field. David threw a strike at Garcia, which fully stunned him, and then threw one more, putting Garcia to sleep where he stood. 

After two minutes and forty-seven seconds, he’d done it. David won his first MMA fight via knockout by strikes. Let that sink in. This man, who I’ve known since we were 14, just put another man to sleep where he stood. And the most amazing thing to me? It was almost like he called his shot. That peace sign I mentioned earlier, changed in my mind. Those two fingers, which I initially thought was just a greeting from a distance, are now permanently cemented in my mind as him saying: 

“Give me two minutes. I have to deal with something but then we can hang out.” 

How did he know? 

He’s always been a cocky little shit by the way. A natural showman, I’ve seen this man do things so athletic that I genuinely get pissed off thinking about it. Not because I’m jealous. It’s because, who the hell has the audacity to be caught in a single leg hold on the mat of a high school gym, and then think, “Hmm. I should get out of this by doing a backflip.” I swear to god, he did this like 4 times in high school. But hey, if you can talk the shit, walk the shit right? 

After the fight, pictures were taken, drinks were poured, roulette tables spun, and good vibes ruled the evening. I hadn’t been that happy in a long time, and I’m still riding the high. 

I think it says something about our friendship that despite the fact that he won a fight he’d been training for for two years, we were hanging out in a regular capacity by Sunday night. He may be flashy in the cage, but he leaves that attitude there. Outside the chain links, he’s a genuine, down to earth guy that enjoys good company more than anything. 

I’ll wrap this up soon, but first I want to say a quick thank you to David’s coach, Bob. I’d met Bob once before at one of Dave’s exhibition matches, and I could see what a good influence he is on his fighters. Bob runs a good program over at the New Breed Training Center, and I know that he’ll continue to produce champions. The first time I met him, Bob made it clear to me that he loves when people shit talk his fighters in a friendly capacity. He profusely thanked my friends and I for trying to keep Dave humble, (no easy feat) and explained that he knows that if it comes from a place of love, it’s good for people. He’s a husband and father, and overall good man, so I’m glad Dave trained under him. 

That’s about all I have to say on this matter. Sure, I may have only been at this fight to scout whether or not David will be a good bodyguard in the future, (he's got the gig) but I’m still extremely proud of him. Despite the fact that I give him shit pretty much every chance that I get, I’m glad to call David one of my best friends, and I can’t wait to see him fight again. Just know this: if you see the 5’7” Italian-Guatemalan man out, and you think it’s a good idea to fight him, think again. Thanks for reading.