Thursday, July 23rd
4:45 AM (yes, that AM!): My body still wants to sleep and my mind is being schizophrenic; one moment telling me how exhausted I am and how my chest, shoulders, bi's and tri's workout from yesterday is going to make my kickboxing workout today miserable, while at the same time questioning every reason possible for training at this hour? Why would you do this? You're never going to be in the UFC®! What's the purpose? Who would know if you skipped this workout? Toooo late! The neurosis has caused my thought process to rattle around in my brain like a pin ball ... I'm wide awake now. I drag my sleepy ass out of bed and sit quietly, sipping on a hot cup of coffee as I stare at video of my last sparring match against Eric "El Tigre" Castanos. I'm futilely trying to find a weakness in his game that I can exploit come this Saturday during my alleged rematch. This is much like the Swiss Navy trying to find a weakness in the U.S. Navy ... you're right, there is no Swiss Navy ... that's the point! Finally, I gratefully down my waiting glass of N.O.-XPLODE along with some NITRIX® tabs and head for the gym.
Today is what's called a preparation day for my sparring session on Saturday. I've trained four days in a row now and I need to do more cardio. I know that because "El Tigre" has gazelle-like cardio; always gliding and bouncing around the ring, as he relentlessly throws combos and then effortlessly slips out of my distance so that I can't even think about counter-attacking. I decide that instead of running, I will just do 10 rounds on the heavy bag, non-stop (3-minute rounds with a 1-minute rest between rounds). I should have done the treadmill ... in fact, I should have done the treadmill for the last month. In fact, I also should not have had a glass of wine, any good food, or a late night for the last month. Hell, I shouldn't even have had sex ... oh never mind ... there's only so much that I will sacrifice. Anyway it's too late for regrets; it's time for reality ...
Saturday, July 25th
6:45 AM: My restless mind once again won't let me sleep late. I've been watching video all week on "El Tigre"; old fights of his on YouTube, some of his sparring sessions against guys that I know where he's picking them apart ... mind you these are guys that I can't beat. Nevertheless I keep planning, plotting, obsessing; today is no different.
7:30 AM: I go out on the back patio and do 3 rounds of shadow boxing to get loose and open up my lungs. It must be 90 degrees out already. The good news is the temperature matches the humidity ... so I got that going for me.
8:30 AM: I down my N.O.-XPLODE, grab two VOLUMAIZE® RTGs and head for Tigre's place, Fierce Fighters Academy in South Miami. My fiancé, "The Columbian Goddess," is with me, as is my stepson. They have come along to film the event/debacle and witness my demise; all the while pretending that I am going to kick some ass. God they must love me!
9:00 AM: I arrive at "El Tigre's" gym. I love this place. You hit the bottom of the stairs and you smell the sweat and leather. It houses, in my opinion, the baddest group of boxers and kick-boxers in Miami, and the place is the real thing. Heavy bags are duct taped together, the equipment is good but definitely used; it's the no-frills, real deal kind of place that is something right out of a Rocky movie. On any given day there are numerous pro boxers, kick-boxers and MMA fighters alike training here, and always a current champion or two was just here training, or is currently training. Eric trains some of the elite in all three sports, and so, to be able to spar with him, or be coached by him - well, for this amateur kick-boxer, that's a true honor. Even though there are only a few people here, the scent of testosterone hangs heavy in the air. There is no A.C. It's hot ... Africa hot.
10:00 AM: Eric arrives. I have been trying to stay loose and not burn out my energy for the last hour; warming up and resting, over and over, all the while sipping on VOLUMAIZE® to keep me hydrated, and to keep my energy levels up. After awhile, I realize that he's using his lateness as a ploy to psyche me out. He knows he needs an advantage to beat me this time and he's hoping that I will get over-anxious and use up all my energy while I wait. Either that or he's just simply a former 3-time world kickboxing champion, and I am fortunate to be able to spar with him, and he will get there when he gets there. I think it's the first theory though.
Eric greets me with his usual warm embrace and we talk for about 20 minutes, as he shows me pictures of his family that he just visited in Cuba last week. I get it; now he's trying to get me to feel for him. He wants me to like him even more so I take it easy on him when we spar. I see how his master plan is unfolding. But I am too wise to fall into this trap. I remain focused. Either that or he just likes me and is totally oblivious about any possible challenge in sparring with me. I still like the first theory though.
10:30 AM: We both come out fast and aggressive for the first round. We are sparring lightly and from an impact standpoint, I have no fear of him hurting me. He's a pro, a champion, and has nothing to prove. The round goes well. I am landing low kicks on his front leg, which is my plan, and we are both landing punches as well. I like the round and what I'm doing. I always measure myself and my lungs between rounds. I am good; not very winded and confident.
Round 2: Again we come out fast. Stella, the "Columbian Goddess," the woman that is supposed to love me, tells Tigre to "turn it up" on me and she does so in Spanish no less, so I really have no idea what's going on. I just know that I am getting kicked, punched and attacked more. I'm still good though and competitive. By the end of the round I am in trouble though. Did I mention that it's hot ... Africa hot? My lungs are gone and I am suckin' wind hard. Eric walks over and calmly coaches me on regaining my breath and talks me down to a calmer state. I figure again this must be part of his plan as he can see how much I have improved from the last time and he figures if he coaches me a little I will take it easy on him. I remain focused.
Round 3: He's relentless and I am regretful that I didn't do a ton of cardio this week. I am fading fast and he is picking me apart. The only two good things about this round are that even though I am out of air, I keep my guard high and keep away from him ... at times; like when the zebra gets away from the lion that's been chasing him down ... but you know it's only for a moment and then ... eek! Turn your head; this is the bad part. The other good thing is that Eric chooses not to kill me, and allows me to regain my breath during the round. I swear I'm done. I am about to spit out my mouthpiece when I hear him say "2 more rounds." You gonna tell the champ you can't go two more rounds with him? Eric exits the ring and tells me to take my time and let him know when I'm ready. Meanwhile, he's over in the corner chattin' it up with some WEC champion that's training here. I'm grateful for the rest, but can't he make it look like his heart rate is over 90 beats a minute?
Rounds 4 & 5: More of the same. I'm running on fumes and he's allowing me to hang in there. Somewhere in here I land several knees, a number of low kicks, and 3 or 4 right hands. Somewhere else in here he could have knocked me out 5 or 6 times already but chose not to. I come out for the 5th hard and aggressive and land some good combos. 20 seconds in and I'm just trying to stay competitive. The last 30 seconds become a blur with "The Colombian Goddess" making the ridiculous statement of "come on Stuart, 30 seconds left, go for it." By this time, my "go for it" has gone for it! I muster up what I can and somewhere another guy must have snuck in the ring because all I can feel is 2 sets of hands peppering my face. Thank God we aren't going hard or my model good looks might be tainted at this point. Foolishly, I try and stand toe-to-toe with him and exchange, which at this point is like trying to out-punch a jackhammer.
The Post-Fight: We finish the round and he's says to me, "two more rounds with the mitts." Are you going to say no to the champ? He graciously takes me through two more rounds, and what he had me working on I knew were moves to counter his moves. He was showing me, theoretically, how to do better against him. He also coached me between each round. He then spent awhile telling me how much better I was than last time (6 months ago) and how I got him with my low kicks and 3 or 4 right hands. Make no mistake; I was better because he allowed me to be. He sparred at my level.
It was another great lesson, and I am grateful to be in the ring with him. The best and worst thing about fighting is ... the sport is honest. You are who you are and so is your opponent. If you have skill, technique, speed and power, then it will show. If you don't have lungs, then everything else is diminished, to say the least. I did better for sure. However, all of my best plans were minimized by not having enough aerobic capacity. He's promised to spar with me once a month. Next time, I will be better prepared. This way when he beats my ass it won't be because I got tired; it will be just because he can!
The best part of the morning was when my 10-year-old stepson, who had watched the same five rounds I just wrote about, looked at me at the end and said, "Who won Stuart?" God that kid must love me!
If you want to view the full 5 rounds, you may do so by logging on to YouTube and then keying in Eric El Tigre Spars with Stuart Dansby. Just to save you the trouble, the links are below:
Eric (El Tigre) Castanos spars with Stuart Dansby Pt. 1
Eric (El Tigre) Castanos spars with Stuart Dansby Pt. 2
Thanks for reading and have a powerful day!