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I come to this week’s episode hoping simply for a little more of what we saw in week one: Forrest Griffin’s homosocial anxiety, Quinton Jackson’s insistence that everyone but he himself smells terrible, Dana White’s fashion-forward hoodies, and maybe some passable mixed martial arts fighting. The little that we get for free, the little of our earthly trust. Not much. Too much? Let’s find out.

Eight preliminary fights down, eight to go. Mercifully, they really do seem to have retired the full-length opening theme song. Which is right and good: I think we can “bear witness to the fitness of the modern warriuhhhh” without constantly being told to. First up we have Dan Simmler and Matthew Riddle. Simmler is a Matt Serra trainee with a 1-0 record (undefeated!) who claims to be one of the top brown belts in the country. Jackson thinks he looks like the guy from 300. I can see it. Matthew Riddle, another 1-0 fighter, suggests that “You know, this is like the Olympics for fighting, you know” — I’d say that between the boxing, freestyle, Greco, judo, and yes even the TKD, you could make a strong case for the Olympics being the Olympics for fighting. “You know you get a lot of pussies trying to come into the house, and personally, I’m not a pussy.” Well great, then. I hate this guy. Riddle with a lovely throw out of the clinch, but chooses to stand up out of Simmler’s guard. Single leg from Riddle, Simmler tries the Sato-esque flying armbar, but slipps right off. Clinched against the fence, Riddler gets double underhooks, breaks, strikes, and finds himself pushed up against the cage, apparently gassed, as Simmler looks to be coming on. Or not: Riddle secures a single leg takedown and starts to work from inside Simmler’s guard. Riddle is up and stomps Simmler’s stomach: apparently that is an illegal move, while an axe kick is legal. I had no idea. A solid first round. The second lasts about five seconds. Simmler is really, really hurt, moaning in agony after a quick left and some perfectly unnecessary shots after the fact. The medic says that “his jaw is in trouble.” Maybe it was the two or three shots Riddle landed after Simmler was down and out. “Where the fuck am I? Was this a fight or was it practice? What was it?” Jesus Christ.

The poorly tattooed Luke Zachrich against the poorly coiffed Patrick Schultz is up next. Not only is the UFC “the Olympics of fighting,” Schultz tells us that it’s also “the Ivy League of mixed martial arts.” They should have to clear these analogies with some sort of commission. These too come out swinging. Zachrich is knocked down off of a caught kick but scrambles to his feet. Zachrich ends up on top in Schultz’s half guard after a strange takedown (Rampage notes that Schultz took himself down), passes to mount for a split second but is swept, after which: scramble, up, clinch, takedown, Zachrich on top, eventually with Schultz’s arm trapped under his own body, which Forrest says is the absolute worst position to be in. Zachrich takes his back and finishes with the RNC.

Tim Credeur, a 10-2 BJJ black belt, is up against the 10-5 striker Erik Charles. Credeur shoots, and works for the single against the cage. Gets it, and floats through Charles’ half-hearted rubber guard (I think that’s what that was). Jujigatame, finish. Lovely technique start to finish from Credeur.

Dana White sings the “face the pain face the pain face the pain” part of the UFC theme song we haven’t been freed from yet. Brandon Sene and Aaron Meisner are up next, and we get highlights. Rampage gets way more involved in the coaching. Sene takes it with an RNC. Mike Marello and Gerald Harris are next up, also in highlight. Ground and pound from Harris, and he takes the decision. A pretty raw match between Daniel Cramer and Jeremiah Riggs. The fight is stopped briefly on up-kicks, which Jackson doesn’t realize are illegal. Cramer takes the decision. The fight reminds Jackson of a motivational picture with a seagull and a frog. And not without cause: this was just go go go from what they’ve shown.

Looks like we’re going to get all of Nick Rossborough and Jesse Taylor. Taylor is an unemployed father from Temecula. Rossborough is “the Slim Shady of MMA,” in Dana White’s view, and Forrest is “blown away by his Eminemness.” Taylor with the takedown in the early seconds. He mounts, but Rossborough works off the cage and back to his feet. He’s down again, because “uh oh, Slim Shady can’t wrestle,” as Dana has it. Taylor mounts again, takes his back and finishes with the choke. Forrest: “Sent him back to 8 Mile.” I really don’t see the Eminem thing, but these guys seriously do.

Josh Hall, also fighting out of Temecula, is up against Matt Brown, who has “no strategy, just kill or die.” For fuck’s sake. Hall, who is apparently Mac Danzig’s boy, works Brown against the cage in the early going, but Brown proves tough to take down. The work off the cage and kickbox; Brown has the edge in that phase of the game. Two minutes in, this is a solid fight. Very nice throw by Hall; we’d call that a harai goshi in judo, but there’s probably a more relevant wrestling term that I’m unaware off. Brown looks for the triangle up against the cage, which makes it tough to turn his hips out or pull Hall down into the hold. Hall tries to slam his way out of the hold, but only managed to make it worse by giving Brown room to move. Brown turns his hips out, making the triangle much more snug. Hall slams again, and Brown looks like he might have an omoplata/sankaku garami for a split second, but after further scrambling, Brown lays in the shots from the top, and Herb Dean stops the fight with four seconds left in the round. A great little fight, really impressive showing from Brown, and Hall looked tough. Having neither killed nor died, Brown’s got to be disappointed with the way things turned out, but I think he did well.

White has convened the fighters, and tells them that while they devised this whole format to weed out “the pussies and the posers, there’s none here today.” Aw, Dana, you old softie.

Another solid episode, on the whole. Who knows what horrors await when we actually move into the house? The end credits suggest it’s going to get pretty stupid. I guess we’ll begin to find out next week.

Until then –

KS