UFC 65 was a night of surprises. Who knew that Tim Sylvia had a ground game, almost choking out a guy (who looked like the love child of Danny DeVito, that guy from The Shield, and a neckless Uncle Fester on steroids) to defend the heavyweight title? Who knew James Irvin would do a better job of knocking his own ass down than would Hector Ramirez? Who knew Joe Stevenson’s shirt would put up a better fight than his opponent? Who knew Vera would make Frank Mir his bitch? Ok we kinda saw that last one coming.
But what about the big event of the night… the Welterweight Title Fight?
Unless you’ve been living under a rock (or just don’t give a shit about the UFC), you know that Matt Hughes is the dominant welterweight in the history of the sport. Corn-fed Illinois boy like me, you either love him or hate him, but you gotta respect him. Love him, because he’s relentless in his quest to be the best. Hate him, because it seems like he’s unstoppable. Or because of that annoying sanctimonious Jesus fetish he has, as if the Lord gave a shit who won UFC 65.
News flash Matt, Jesus doesn’t watch the UFC. He’s a Red Sox fan.
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