I drank Coor's Light from a Halloween goblet covered in skulls. I bought a whole rotisserie chicken for UFC 121 and tore away at the meat with my hands for sustenance. I grew a mighty flesh-colored beard of destruction. I used "deathclutch" as both a verb and noun in most conversations for the last month. I tried to live each day of Brocktober as if it was to be my last.
Yet, sadly, through a butterfly effect I've yet to mentally grasp... I'm fairly certain I am the cause of Brock Lesnar's loss. There's a lot of hoity-toity analysis on this fight by bloggers with fancy smartypants junior college degrees... but I am the man that looked up battle axes and broad swords online and failed to make a proper Viking purchase of doom. I also went to the zoo and merely mocked the bears... mostly with clever wordplay and some sight gags. I did not rip out their hearts and hungrily devour their entrails as were my original intentions. This defeat is assuredly my doing.
Things that haven't been mentioned by the commentators but will be discussed at length in the ensuing days:
1. Butterfly Effect: Brock Lesnar wouldn't have gassed and would probably be punching smalls towns into oblivion right now if I had not gone out to talk on the phone during the second reshowing of the Countdown show... I did come back in for Matt Hamill though. Neither here nor there... but he speaks hilariously!... Wherever he's from, that's a town that needs its own Fargo.
- Brock Lesnar would have avoided all of Cain's punches Matrix-style... if I hadn't laughed at the name "Cnut The Great" while doing vast, all encompassing, 15 minute wikipedia research on Vikings
- Brock Lesnar's attacks would have all landed true (read: megatons of atomic destruction... possibly causing a rift in the space/time continuum) if I wouldn't have started singing "Rollin'" when The Undertaker appeared on the screen... to the amusement of none.
2. We're Not So Different... You And I..: Former champion with a polarizing personality marked by a hearty mix of arrogance and confidence. A man buoyed by a limited skillset that equates to an elite advantage over most heavyweight competition... yet will probably never be completely well-rounded and whole. A person who possesses occasionally effective stand-up... yet wilts like a flower passed by a cartoon skunk when directly attacked.
Brock Lesnar meet Frank Mir. You have much to discuss.
Quit eating my goddamn strawberries... for the third time.
3. AOL: Remember the 90's? Remember AOL 2.0, 3.0, 4.0, etc.? Remember getting all of those discs in the mail? Wasn't that crazy?! Is there some way Hot Topic can make a shirt about this???
I say that to say this. Brock Lesnar may just be Bob Sapp 2.0.
Sure, Brock Lesnar is a more elegant system. Upgraded in all ways. A legit top 5 heavyweight and a top 3 in animated emoticons... but yeah. They kind of parallel in a historic context in a lot more ways than I'd like to admit... without crying... and cutting myself... just to feel.
In closing, tomorrow, I will hold a Viking funeral. Brock Lesnar will get his proper send-off into the great beyond. A vast body of water (blow-up pool) will be crossed by his longship (empty box of wine) consumed by a raging fire (lighter fluid and thrown matches) burning his warrior remains (Jakks UFC figure). Feel free to stop by for a consoling time of celebration in defeat... defeat I probably caused.
I'll be the guy screaming to the heavens with three day old chicken in my beard. I won't be hard to find.