A Complete And Unmitigated Failure – My First BECW Season
It started innocently enough...
I had seen the numerous BECW threads off to the side for what seemed like forever, but I never ventured into one, I was however intrigued as to how it worked. I had never done any sort of fantasy sports game like baseball or football, mainly because it requires keeping track of a lot of stats and I HATE numbers with the fury of a thousand suns. I'm terrible with them to the point where it took me a month to remember my own cellphone number, that's how bad I am with them.
My introduction to the Bloody Elbow Civil War was a mixture of dicks covered in wasp stings and cross dressing, and possibly a few other things I've purged from my memory. Despite admitting that I couldn't pick a winner to save my life and providing evidence to support that statement, I was still encouraged to join the draft for the next season that would be starting soon.
Here are some examples as to why I never bet actual money on MMA fights. I picked Miesha Tate over Ronda Rousey. Twice. I picked Shane Carwin over JDS. I picked Donald Cerone over Anthony Pettis. I've picked Pat Barry in every single fight he's had since 2010.
I think I've made my point.
But on the other side of that coin, I was one of the few who picked both Antonio Silva and Travis Browne to kick Alistair Overeem's dick in. I also had Chris Weidman beating Anderson Silva in both fights. So I do have the occasional moment of brilliance, or maybe I'm just a broken clock?
And here's a fun fact about me, I'm a direct descendant of Ulysses S. Grant and Robert E. Lee (Generals of the Union and Confederate army's in the American Civil War, for those who failed history), so I figured anything called a "Civil War" would be right in my wheelhouse.
Before I even entered the draft, I figured it would be just like it was in school when it was time to pick teams for kickball (I hated kickball). The popular ones would be chosen first and I would be the fat kid with a club foot and breathing problems. While I wasn't picked dead last (yay!), it was when the captains were starting to scrape the bottom of the barrel. Josh Hall took pity on me and selected me in the 8th or 9th round.
But no matter, I had visions (delusions) of running roughshod over everyone and leading my team to championship. I would then be named Rookie Of The Year (you guys have awards right?) and go from being a punchline to the prettiest girl at the ball, everyone would want me to be on their team next season.
It was going to be so awesome...
For my first event as part of Undying Faith In Guillard, I earned a decent score and hoped that I would get better with each event. But the MMA Gods are giant asswipes and decided to kick the entire BECW in their collective ball bags with Fight Night 38. Many folks did terrible, I went 1-9 myself and scored a measly 10 points for the entire event. By the half way point I was just drinking cotton candy vodka straight up it was such a miserable night.
But the MMA Gods can also be very generous, and generous they were for UFN 39. This single event would be my greatest achievement in the BECW to date. I went 6-1 on my picks for 65 points, was #1 for my team, 10th overall in the CW, and 71st on Playground. I was riding high and felt a very impressive first season finish was now well in hand.
You'd think I'd have learned not to trust my feelings by now...
Over the next several events I would perform either badly or mediocre at best. If I went with my gut instincts I was wrong (Johnson/Davis). If I went against my gut instincts I was wrong (Bisping/Kennedy). If I actually spent some time researching the fighters I was wrong. If I checked the betting odds I was wrong. You get the idea, I could have flipped a coin and done just as well.
And then came the 22 fight 12 hour monstrosity known as the TUF Brazil 3/UFN 41 event. If there is an MMA equivalent of a never ending stress test or flight to New Zealand, that card would be it. At this point, unless a majority of the CW suddenly dropped dead, it was mathematically impossible for me to finish above #100. So I decided to just throw shit at the wall and see what stuck while making picks.
With the exception of their own families, no one knew or cared who 99% of the fighters on these cards were, no one. While I was one of the few with the testicular fortitude to stick it out to the bitter end, I fear it cost me something dear, I just don't know what yet. Anyway, between there being an insane number of fights and my "screw it all" attitude, I wound up scoring 106 points, but then again so did most everyone else playing along.
It was a hollow and cheap victory, but I took what I could get.
Somewhere in the middle of all this, Ebinch would reveal himself as my first CW nemesis. I don't remember where or exactly what started our little rivalry, but I had small lead on him in overall points, and I intended to keep it. I believe he overtook me on the rankings with the next event and eventually it became crystal clear that I would never catch up to him. But while he would ultimately win the war, I refused to let him win every battle.
No way in hell was I going to allow a beret wearing, goatee twirling, moldy cheese smelling, boxed wine drinking, mime lesson taking FRENCHIE to strut all the way to the non existent bank without putting up some sort of fight.
I believe I got the better of him one week for the remainder of the season.
The final event of the season was Fight Night 42, and while I don't know where it will put me in the overall scores, I felt it was a near perfect finish after how shitty my season went. I went 9-2 for 69 points, and I would have had 91 if not for the judges being in love with the epic beating Diego Sanchez gave the air around Pearson's body. I might have lost out on the 22 points, but I was glad that I stuck to my guns and was right that it would be a split decision, I just had it for the "wrong" person.
So what was the sum total for my first BECW season? Well I'm going to totally disregard any points I earned or what my final ranking will be. I'm going to look at it as gaining some new buddies, at least one new enemy, and having had many many hours of fun (I'm so sad and lonely) bullshitting with my fellow MMA fans.
And I'd say you can't put a number or dollar figure on that.
P.S. Blame Paulo Filho's Psychiatrist for getting me involved with this in the first place. If you wish to "thank" him, I suggest throwing hair frosting kits through the window of his Miata, I understand his kind like that sort of stuff.