Daring Greatly: A view from this side of my Strikeforce debut

A view from this side of my Strikeforce debut

Written By: Brian Melancon

So I just finished eating at Amazon Grill with my girl on a wednesday night after training when my manager calls. He asks me how my lip is (I had just gotten 5 stitches in a nasty gash while doing a rolling drill on monday). I tell him “it’s fine, I’ll get the stitches out on Saturday or Sunday.” Then he asks, ” Can you fight next saturday for Strikeforce?” My first thought is “what?!?” Then I think “oh crap!” I am just coming off of a month long vacation where I had been eating whatever I wanted and training about twice per WEEK. Ever since I got back from Sacramento and found out my fight got cancelled, I just decided to take some time off and get ready for Legacy in July when I was 8 weeks out. I was exactly 1 week into that camp now. I check my weight on the scale and I am 193.9 (down 6lbs from Memorial day when I was 200 after beer and barbcue) I had been lifting for a while to be a bigger 170. It was perfect for an 8 week diet and cut down to 170, but now nearly 25lbs in 10 days? I don’t know if I can do it.

After about an hour of thinking and talking to my teammates, I decide that I have to take it. There is no way that I could live with myself when I am 70 if I were to pass this up and never get the call back. So I call my manager back and tell him “I’ll take it!” For the next 8 days I eat only 800 calories a day and train 3 sessions a day. I get all the way down to 186 when I arrive in Dallas. I have 15lbs to go in less than two days. “This is gonna be brutal!” I keep thinkning to myself. I have done this much weight before, but not in this condition. The last time I was in this condition I missed weight. I go through my normal routine and get off as much as I physically can til I stop sweating. I reach 175.4 at 12:00 on friday. 3 more hours to get the rest off. Feeling absolutely terrible at this point, but I get back at it. 2 more hours down and here is the dryheaving, shaking, dizziness and inability to focus. I step on the scale and it is 175.0. I had them call the other guy’s camp earlier to let them know and continued the best I could.

Fight day comes and I am rehydrated and feeling pretty good and thinking that I am gonna KO this guy in the first! As you all know I always start aggressive and this will be no different. I am relaxed and focused. I come out in the first and went after him nailed him with punches, tossed him down, side control, mounted crucifix, back, choke almost sunk in. Just took it to him like I said I would. I got tired and I knew I didn’t have my normal pace so I took most of the second off to just counter and get my second wind. Going into the 3rd I know it is 1-1 and I need this rd. I know I can take him so I counter in the first part of the rd, set up some takedowns and then I go after him. Big hip toss, mount again, almost take the back. He gets up and in desparation starts just throwing alot of pitter pat knees and elbows from the clinch that are not really landing and definitely doing no damage. I hear my corner say 45seconds so I time a kick and shoot. He sprawls but I feel I have the corner on him and I turn and secure the takedown. He knows he’s screwed and tries to get up, I go for the back then attempt a suplex at the end. Bell rings and it’s over, I just won! There is a great calm that comes and I am thinking of how I was successful in my Strikeforce debut! Then I hear the words “Split Decision” What?!?! There’s no way! are you kidding me? Then I look at the announcer’s scorecard and I see my opponents name twice. I think “nah that’s not the decision, that must just be rd 2. I won this fight!” I hear his name for the second time, and my heart drops. It feels like a nightmare. “This can’t be real. There’s no way!” What just happened. MY lungs are burning, but I don’t have a scratch on me. Not one bruise anywhere, Not my leg, not my face and no cuts or anything. Where is the damage? Where’s the evidence that I “lost”. There’s none on me. The evidence is all on him!

Days have passed now, and I have watched about 10 times already. I have no idea how it was sored this way, and I probably never will. I will forever have to look at my record and see an L where there should be a W. The matchmaker (along with most everyone else in the world) feels that I won, and is excited to have me here, stating that he “can’t wait to have me back!” This is a small comfort and does very little to soothe this pain. I put my heart into that fight and gave it all I had and It was ripped from my hands. I am so angry right now that I am going to fight like I did in the 1st rd 100% of the time now. I don’t want to ever go to the judges again. Ever. I am going to work my butt off to try and make sure that not only will I never lose again, but I don’t even want to go to the 3rd rd. When judges are going to blindly flip a coin to decide the future of my career, then I won’t let them have any part of it! Thank you all for your kind words and support. That does ease the pain, and your words do make a difference to me. I really appreciate it and hope I can make you all proud next time.

Back to the “Daring Greatly” Home