The Best Laid Plans of Men....and Turkeys
Last week was a challenging one to say the least. Between the news from my neurologist and the hectic pace at work we had to keep up in order to ensure a holiday could in fact take place, no training at all was able to commence. Anyone who knows me, knows that this is problematic as my general mood and my subsequent performance upon returning suffer.
Luckily, my co-worker and open mat partner Neil told me that he heard open mat would go on as scheduled in spite of the holidays. At least that's what the guys behind the desk had told him. But we'll get to that. So after copious amounts of Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatos and all the other good stuff that comes with good ol' American style Thanksgiving, it was good to have a light bit of rolling on Saturday to look forward to.
After texting back and forth Neil, Dr. Evil and I were all committed and eager to attend Open Mat. Side note: what's the deal with texting? I understand chicks do it, and I can only assume its because they really don't want to talk to each other. But when guys use it, even though I'm guilty at times, I just don't get it. At least there's no, LOL, TTFN and all that garbage. With my friends the only acronym we use is MPH, when we're bailing from training.
So I arrive at the gym about ten minutes early. I decided to sit in the truck, listen to the radio, finish my coffee and wait for Neil and the Doc to show up. As I sat there, I received a text from the doc which basically said "MPH" and he's not showing. That's cool, we've all been there, at least Neil's coming.
He showed up and we headed inside. The front of the gym was dark. Light and banging noise greeted us from deep in the back. We pensively walked in foot by foot, then Angel emerged no doubt surprised to see us. "Dudes, were closed today" he said. Neil, immediately said "But Tom said...."; and Tom overhearing this reacted with...."Yeah, I was misinformed" , which in Tom speak means "Sorry guys, my mistake, I hope I didn't inconvenience you too much".
So we left. Walking past the wide, open, mats; longing to be rolled upon. Outside we stood. Still suffering from tryptophan poisoning, yet feeling dejected. Sure, we could have left there and sought other ways to work out, but of course that didn't happen. There is always the next week to conquer!
Went to see "Four Christmases" this weekend. Besides being rather unfunny, it calls MMA "Human Cockfighting" two or three times and the portrayal of the redneck fighter (the normally funny Jon Favreau) would have been better served by actually performing a Triangle rather than the absurd maneuver he applies in the film. Come on Hollywood, do better.