Maybe this makes me a bad person, but the moments that have always stuck in my head haven't been the one-punch knockouts or the back-and-forth wars of legend. No, for me the true fascination is in watching a man get systematically destroyed. I love a good fight, but nothing quite excites me like watching a man get driven to the point of thinking, "Oh my God. I've made a huge mistake. I AM GOING TO DIE AND THIS MAN IS GOING TO KILL ME." So, going along with that theme, here are the five most illegal public executions of 2012.
Thanks to Alistair Overeem's love of horsemeat, the main card of UFC 146 went through some rather drastic changes. Without The Reem injecting synthetic Godzilla urine into his prostate, we would have seen one of MMA's most highly expected striking matches ever. However, Ubereem's water bottle was confiscated during a press conference and was found to contain Bob Sapp's sweat, so despite his best attempts to knee the Nevada State Athletic Commission into submission (and let's be honest, it's a more even fight than any of Reem's "fights" in DREAM) the fight was called off, Overeem was suspended for the year, and is expected to revert to his natural form of Bruce Banner any day now.
But screw all that, you're here to read about murder porn, right? Right. And make no mistake whatsoever, that's exactly what this was. Let's look over this. Mir's a submission specialist with suspect wrestling. Dos Santos has proven incredibly difficult to take down. Mir has trouble taking punches, having been knocked into various states of unconsciousness by, among others, Brock "Honkey Kong" Lesnar, Shane Carwin, Brandon Vera, Marcio Cruz, Miguel Torres (Let's be honest, it would explain a lot), and Wes Sim's foot. Dos Santos' fist hits like a train full of murder. What did we think was gonna happen? Mir got punched so many times his chin was declared a disaster area by FEMA. There have been Insane Clown Posse concerts with less brain cells killed. When the ringside doctor asked how many fingers he was holding up, Mir replied, "Pineapple!" When it came out later that the NSAC had given Mir permission to snort Ben Grimm's skin shavings, it made it even more impressive: Junior Dos Santos hits so hard it's classified by Marvel Comics Editor-in-Chief Joe Quesada as a mutant power.
Tyrone Spong is a legendary kickboxer. He's destroyed more livers than Jagermeister. (Fuck you, I'm not typing those fucking umlauts.) When he punches you, it takes eight seconds for your brain to say to itself, "fuck this noise, I quit." Travis Bartlett is... a dude. Yeah. That's about it. He's in awful shape for a fighter. He has the killer instinct of a dandelion. In short, Spong's MMA debut would have been more well-matched if it was against a drunken ferret. Spong delivered leg kicks that would make Jose Aldo cringe. Bartlett switched his stance, and Spong replied by ensuring that Bartlett will urinate blood for the forseeable future. Mercifully, Spong ended his night with a nasty straight right, and walked away, thinking he had to wait for a standing eight count. It didn't matter. Bartlett was still trying to figure out where the truck that hit his leg came from.
"You're doing great. Live your destiny, baby."
As soon as I heard Dustin Poirier's cornerman say these words, I let out a scream of rage and confusion. Helen Keller knows who was winning this fight. Poirier knew who was winning this fight. In case you don't know, I'll give you a hint: It sure wasn't Poirier. Jung had thrown the kitchen sink at him somewhere around the first round, ordered six more sinks off of Amazon, waited for them to be delivered, and threw them too. Poirier was getting his face kicked in and it wasn't even remotely close. Awesome? Yes. Close? God, no. You have to be able to tell your fighter what's going on. And in that, Dustin's cornermen badly failed their fighter.
By now, we've all seen it, seen replays of it, seen the Gracie Breakdown of it, tried to reenact it with a friend, and tried to pull it off in Undisputed. Jung threw a flying knee, and when Poirier tried to shoot for a takedown, he found himself on his back and being choked out. I can only imagine the last thing he thought before losing consciousness was "But I thought I was doing great?"
Anderson Silva has the cheat codes to the universe, the cosmic cube, the infinity gauntlet, a green lantern ring, and has plunged his fists into the molten heart of Shou-Lao the Undying. It's almost unfair to put him on any list because you know Goddamn well that he's going to be number one. He could kill a man with his dance moves, for Christ's sake...
Chael Sonnen, 4chan.org's 2011 IRL Troll of the Year, is the only man in recent memory to make Anderson Silva appear human. Of course, he then remembered he's Chael Sonnen, so he decided to dive head-first into the first triangle choke he could find. He choked on Anderson's crotch so badly you'd think he was Sasha Grey. Anyways, even managing that much is considered a breathtaking victory when you're fighting Video Game Mike Tyson, so they were scheduled to fight a second time. I wasted all my steroid jokes in the first section, so I'm not gonna go off about how DNA testing revealed that Chael Sonnen is actually Maul from the WildC.A.T.S. or anything.
Anyways, after Sonnen won a first round during which slow-motion replays revealed Anderson took sleeping pills just because fuck it, why not, Anderson woke up, danced circles around Chael's attempts to accomplish anything, and finished reading book four of A Song of Ice and Fire. An infuriated Sonnen threw a spinning backfist, a technique that works approximately twice per thousand attempts. Silva dodged the punch, tripped Sonnen, threw a blatantly illegal knee to Sonnen's head while Sonnen was on the ground, used his reality warping powers to hit him in the sternum instead, and did everything but call him gay and threaten to beat his wife up. Order was restored to the universe, and Sonnen would be offered a fight against Dhalsim from Street Fighter as compensation for the lasting psychological damage.
Even more profound, though, was the Stephan Bonnar fight, a fight which absolutely nobody believed Bonnar had a chance of winning. The more detached from reality among the fan community implied that Bonnar could win by grinding Silva against the fence for three rounds. Silva, just to humor these people, actually ALLOWED Bonnar to do exactly that. It didn't work. He then dropped his hands, stopped moving, and allowed Bonnar to unload on his face. It didn't work. I can't think of anything more disheartening than being allowed to use all your strengths against your opponent's weaknesses, failing, being given a free chance to knock said opponent out, and failing again. Bonnar's heart must have sunk. However, Silva then proceeded to knee Bonnar to the chest, turn Stephan's chest cavity into a taiko drum, and return Bonnar's heart to its original position. Bonnar's ribcage, now with the consistency of Jello, collapsed faster than Bonnar's confidence, and he crumpled to the mat.
To add insult to injury, post-fight drug tests found Bonnar's piss to contain Stanzolol, Albuterol, Lololololol, Ephedrine, Acetominophine, Testosterone, Preposterone, Pepperoni, Yellow #5, Anna Kournikova, Super Soldier Serum, Propylene Glycol, Panther Cerebrospinal Fluid, and Mothra Feces.