Online Sparring and Headbutting Mom
We're not at the glove-touching stage, are we? I dropped Young-hoon off in San Francisco. He said he wanted to train more instead of heading back to Korea, so I just told him not to get hurt. The longer he stays in America, the better he gets at booking his own flights.
Tahar and Snyder came with me to Korea. As I sat in the private jet, SNS was blowing up with someone stoking the flames of a boxing vs. MMA showdown. It was Yuriyovych, the light heavyweight champ in his early thirties who'd just beaten the former champ Diego.
He posted it like a cocky interview video. If I had to guess why, he'd probably heard all the talk about MMA being superior and wanted to clap back. Too many likes to ignore, so I dropped some comments.
I always keep my boxing instincts sharp. My muscles and stance are tuned for MMA, but a level like that? I could do it anytime. Still, no interest in actual boxing. I know keeping it verbal gets the crowd even hotter.
Once they get facially planted with facts, they all shut up. Even offering my private jet won't lure him out.
Right on cue, Brown announced my rematch with Dmitry. It's set for two months out at WFC 182 in the Las Vegas Arena. Fighters are still fresh at this stage, so a fight every two months feels perfect. Later on, once a year becomes the norm, I'll want to cram in as many as possible.
After landing in Korea, I hit an early morning workout to sweat out the jet lag. Mom showed up to help film a video on Dmitry. She rocked a soaked taekwondo dobok, open to the waist like a thug, perched on the mat outside the octagon.
"I thought you didn't break him enough last time. A rematch? Good thing you're a warrior."
Pre-regression, he was infamous as "Scaredmitry." But right now, he's hungry and warrior-like. I even recall a drug scandal around this time—but nothing yet means he's trained like hell for revenge.
"Thanks for letting him get that revenge he couldn't finish. This fight's gonna be his pathetic retirement party."
Mom didn't like that line, but her YouTube skills made the video fire. I pecked her cheek for her hard work, and she shoved me off, yelling I stank.
Every time she rejects me, that needy boy inside wakes up. It's like a kid craving mom's love. So I hugged her sweat-soaked body tight, earning genuine annoyance.
"Hey! This is my favorite outfit!"
Then I shoved her cheek in my mouth.
"Mmmph~"
"Kyaaack!!!"
She headbutted me for real, goosebumps and all.
Thwack! That stung a bit. Was it my stomach that hurt? Still, I'm her son...
She stared at me blankly for a second.
"......"
I caught a flicker of guilt. As she awkwardly smiled, I hugged tighter for total domination. She tried pinching, but her grip wasn't enough to hurt. Guess she felt Dad's thick skin in me too.
"Fine, let go."
Mwah.
"Stop it, I said okay."
"Your turn to kiss."
"Get lost."
"Then I'm not letting go."
I offered my cheek, but got another headbutt.
"You little punk...! Threatening your own mom!!!"
I dodged her flailing headbutts with ease. Finally, half her face red, she went limp.
"Okay, okay. Enough. I'm tired."
I got my kiss and released her. After taking a few more hits, we talked. She wiped my cheek and sweat.
"You're all grown up, acting like this..."
She sighed, leaned in for a kiss, but I blocked with my hand. I indulge her affection sometimes, but hate switching roles. What the hell, I'm not a kid—it's creepy.
"...?"
Her face smooshed against my palm, she glared.
"Bring it here?"
"What?"
"Bring your face."
Trembling with rage, she charged. No way a flyweight could pin me, but I let her. She smooched my cheek to her satisfaction.
"Who kicked you that hard?"
"What kick? Last fight?"
"Yeah. Chan-hyuk freaked when he saw the video. A normal guy would've gone into shock."
Chan-hyuk's Mom's junior and my taekwondo coach.
"I regretted it right after, once reality hit."
"Looked like it."
"Gotta fight every two months—can't miss any."
"...? For real?"
"Kidding."
I hear Magnus still has four broken ribs and is in the ER. Everyone's shocked by the Kook Kick's power.
"Sucks I can't eat out much with all this body management."
"Go heavyweight, eat whatever."
"Yeah?"
"My frame's too thick—cutting to 94kg is brutal."
After uploading the video, I prepped for more training. I glanced at Mom, who hadn't left.
"Weren't you gonna get a cat?"
"Tch... Thinking about it."
"Tell Harin?"
"Wanna flip her eyes out? She'd nag daily if she knew I was considering it."
"Do it for her birthday then."
"Oh, that's good? She's picky about gifts anyway."
She nodded and headed out. I dove back into training, honing my techniques.
Before heading home, I called Brown from the car.
"Yo, Leon! What's up!?"
"Got a killer scenario, but I need your okay first."
"Your ideas are always welcome. Shoot."
"Time to stop turning a blind eye to drugs? People keep saying fighters are juiced."
WADA joins WFC next year anyway. No need for me to get stronger—keeping others clean will make me shine brighter.
"No drugs means I stand out even more."
"......"
Silent. Probably 'cause doped fights are more exciting. Overall quality would tank, obviously.
"WFC's changing. With bigger weight classes, why not lead the way?"
"... Sigh. You'll get it, but not now."
Thanks to Travers, he's rejecting. WFC's investing big to become a real sport, but Brown can't drop drugs yet. He's pushing Travers hard—if he gets caught, the hype dies.
I don't want WFC called fake either. Even full-juice opponents? My skills crush them. Wrestlers can't even defend jiu-jitsu properly yet.
"You misunderstand..."
"...?"
"WADA joining doesn't mean no drugs."
He gets it. Slapping the name on is easy, but no group's clean—everyone overfeeds on prestige cash. Pre-regression, execs tried bribing me too.
"Just saying—I've lived long enough to know money bends everything."
"I see..."
"Just want fair eyes on my fights. If you're not ready, think it over."
My age is my scam—21-year-old champ, golden goose for dozens more fights. Brown can't push back hard.
"Heard the talk... You really use zero drugs?"
He didn't know.
"Need 'em? Last fight, two months training for 10 seconds was bad enough."
"Haha... WADA... Tough this time, but I'll consider."
"Push Travers more—ride the WFC wave."
Search WFC on YouTube, my fights dominate. Their fame boosts mine.
"Of course. But this one's all-in on you."
"Hahaha. Hit you up for more later."
"Anytime. Make yourself at home."
Guess I'm pretty tight with Brown now. Pushed for fairer fights; his no means my two defensive title defenses are forgiven.