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Read about the night Matt Serra almost killed Bauzen

Read about the night Matt Serra almost killed Bauzen

So on Saturday I attended a UFC 110 Viewing Party in NYC with Former UFC Welterweight Champion Matt “The Terror” Serra. I was supposed to submit my round-by-round scoring, but after “The Terror” stopped by to chat with me, I suddenly forgot how to use my blackberry and I ended up DMing those round-by-round scores to everyone who follows me on twitter instead of Zeus.

Sorry, Zeus

A few week ago, Matt and I totally bonded in an interview, and I was hoping we were going to pound Jagerbombs utilizing the ‘Broski’ method while watching an amazing night of fights. Instead, he wasn’t entirely enthusiastic with our choice of wording in our write-up. He expressed his distaste at our insinuation that he consumed several  ‘adult beverages’ that night, and the bromance was never to be… (bummer)

I held my breath and tried my best to keep from crying/fainting. Should Matt Serra ever decide he wanted to extend his hand in my direction in any means other than a handshake, I can envision the fight going a lot like Hong Man Choi vs. Jose Canseco, except much shorter and I’d probably look a lot less recognizable the next day.

Luckily Matt Serra is a cool dude, and I’m pretty thankful he didn’t rip my arm off, Aoki style. Instead, he made the party an overwhelming success by filling a small Upper West Side Bar to capacity along with Pete ‘Drago’ Sell, P.R. Cole, the whole cast of Tokyo Five, and our friends over at GalsGuideToMMA, who have their own version of how they saw the events of that evening go down in the form of the most beautiful poem I’ve ever read…

It was a cool winter night as we stood in the bar,
People packed in from near and afar.
The crowd was awash in joy and good cheer,
The conversation flowed as well as the beer.
There stood Bauzen, leaning on the wall,
His shouts of “Kill Bisping!” could be heard above all.
All of a sudden the crowd drew apart,
Along came Matt Serra with vengeance in his heart.
He approached our dear Bauzen, hand curled in a fist,
He had something to say, and man was he pissed.
“You made me look like a drunk!” he said to our hero,
But Bauzen stayed cool like Robert De Niro.
“I did my job,” he said, chest puffed with pride,
The interview was good, that can’t be denied.
Serra backed up, a look of doubt in his eye,
Bauzen’s brazen defense had stifled his reply.
He left the confrontation, his tail between his legs,
“I’m so very sorry” for Bauzen’s pardon he begs.
My heart started beating, for awhile it had stopped,
And when I looked down, my panties had dropped.

Even though I remember what happened slightly differently, I guess perception is everything. I couldn’t have done too badly holding my ground if a couple of sexy twins I met that night are writing poetry about it the next day. Turns out that advice Fedor gave me in Chicago was the best guidance anyone has ever given me.

Thanks to everyone who came out to the party. If you didn’t know about the party… It’s your fault for not following me on twitter.

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