God in the Octagon

Round 2

For even when we came into Macedonia, our bodies had no rest, but we were afflicted at every turn—fighting without and fear within. - 2 Corinthians 7:5

I was in my first year of university so I was trying to get used to the university scene. My roommate Firas Zahabi and I were at a party one night and when Firas offered me a ringside ticket to an event called UFC 83. When I asked him what the hell it was, he just told me that since I was into martial arts, I would understand what it was when we got there. And boy, was he ever right. Firas drove to Montreal and when I showed up to the Bell centre in Montreal, there was electricity in the air that can only be described as a fight feeling. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before, two men, two martial arts experts, enter into a cage and fight until one of them can't keep going. And when George St.-Pierre and Matt Serra went at it in a rematch that rocked the nation, I fell in love with the sport and transferred my addiction from singular martial arts that focused on one aspect of fighting to this new tougher sport that covered everything. This is what I was looking for when I tried all my martial arts, a fighting style that covered all aspects of combat. I asked Firas where I could get started with my training, and as it turns out, Firas was planning this the entire time. He told me that he wanted to start a gym to train these professional fighters but needed people to work for him. Obviously, it didn't take much for me to say yes. We opened Tristar MMA in Quebec right after we graduated and after a while, we were taking in some high profile fighters. We were training everyone from championship fighters like George St.-Pierre to up and coming stars like Rory Macdonald and Super Sage Northcutt. We were going to all these events and watching our fighters win, and I made many friendships with fighters that I still keep in touch with to this day. But there was one friendship I have enjoyed the most, and it came to me in on a cold September day, in a 5'6 package. I was trains Jonathan Brookins for his season finale fight on the UFC's reality T.V. show the ultimate fighter. He was a good kid, 6 feet tall, 126 pounds when he was fighting, tactically smart and long blonde hair that was curly like a freakish bush that extended down to his shoulders. He reminded me of myself except a few years younger and about 20 pounds lighter. We were working his stand up game, working some basic combos and the like, when one of the people who was working the front desk, a young guy about 17 years old named James or Jon or Jared or something, came up and tapped me on the shoulder.

"Mr. Wyatt?" he said, though it was more of a whisper. He wasn't a big kid, maybe 5'7 or 5'8 and always seemed to be intimidated by the other fighters. I turned around and accidentally almost elbowed him in the jaw.

"Whoops, sorry." I said, gesturing to Jonathan to go to the punching bag for a bit. "How many times do I have to tell you, it's Jack. Mr. Wyatt is my father and I'm not him."

"Sorry Mr.....Jack." the kid stammered out like a third grader getting a talking to from a teacher. "There's a lady at the front desk who wants to speak to the one of the owners." He pointed to a woman standing at the front desk, hands on her hips, staring at us. She looked to be about the same height as the kid, maybe an inch taller. She had light brown hair styled in the short butch lesbian haircut that screamed "I'm a strong independent woman." She had a short body, strong looking arms and long legs, probably a swimmer or a runner looking for some way to stay in shape in the off season. We had a lot of her type come through the gym so I knew the routine; she'd sign up for a jujitsu, wrestling or muay thai class, stay for a couple months, then either fall in love with the sport and quit whatever it was the did before so that they could come more often or they would slowly fade away, showing up to fewer and fewer classes, eventually disappearing, never to be seen again.

"I'll go talk to her." I grumbled, not wanting to deal with her right now. "Jonathan, go do five, five minute rounds with this guy in the ring. Go easy on him, standing only, throw the combos we practiced as much as possible." I gestured to the kid beside me, who was looked over at Jonathan and began to shake nervously. I walked over to the front desk, sat down, took one look at this woman and knew there was something different about her. There was a fire in her deep blue eyes that only the most dedicated athletes have. The type of look that says "I will do what it takes to become the best I can at this sport."

"How can I help you, ma'am?" I said, my eyes never leaving hers for a moment.

"My name is Jennifer Larkin, and I'm going to be your newest MMA student." she said, with a confidence that was bordering on arrogance.

"Do you have any experience in martial arts prior to coming here?" I asked, skeptical as usual. Skepticism is the best approach to anyone want to join MMA. There are always people who come off the street with no fight experience and expect to become these extreme warriors. Those guys never amount to much. They either have their butts handed to them in the first week or don't know when to stop and get more black and blue before learning their lesson.

"Does a black belt in karate mean anything to you?" she asked, pulling out a certificate with her name on it that certified her as a black belt in Tracy Kenpo Karate, signed by four black belts, as was required, with the date of her examination and her name written in fancy lettering.

"Well, Jennifer Pauline Margaret Larkin, this certificate seems legit." I said, handing it back to her and looking through the desk drawers for the paperwork to sign up for our classes. I found them and pulled out the large stack of sheets and handed the top three to Jennifer.

"Just fill those out and get them back with a payment so you can start classes here. I don't know why you needed me to do this. Our staff is capable enough to handle a class sign up."

She gave me a hard look and sighed.

"Mr. Wyatt, is it?" she said, leaning onto the desk so that her face was as close to mine as possible.

"Jack, actually. Mr. Wyatt is my father."

"Well...Jack, I'll have you know that I have been to four other gyms today. Each one I asked to speak to the management and each time I was told that they were busy and couldn't see me right now. When I came here, you were clearly training that young man, yet you took the time to come over and treat me right. This was a test, Jack, and your gym passed with flying colours." I sat there for a moment stunned at what I had just heard. I felt like I had just wasted 10 minutes of valuable training time and I didn't know whether to be glad that she chose to come here or pissed off that she had taken away from my lessons.

"Well," I said, trying not to show how confused I was "thank you very much Ms. Larkin. I look forward to seeing you in class."

"I look forward to learning from the best." she said. She then turned around and walked towards the door. Just before leaving, she looked back, winked, opened the door and left. From that moment I knew, my life had forever changed.