INTRO
“I’m Bob Gamble coming back to you live with Chuck Kimbrell in Dallas, Texas, and it’s time for the main event of Ultra MMA 157. The arena is sold out at capacity. Twenty-two thousand people on their feet as we look down to Mark Bradbury making his way to the octagon. Chuck, he looks focused and determined as ever after finally getting his title shot.”
“Yeah Bob, that’s correct, people call him The Grinder, a name he well deserves for his ground and pound style tactics in the octagon. At six-one two-twenty he has long legs and arms that he ties opponents up with. His striking game has been on point as of late though, drastically improving since his first two fights.”
“And this should get interesting, Chuck, as Mark bounces around awaiting on his opponent. And there they go. The lights have dimmed and there goes the music. Hells Bells by ACDC and you know what that means.”
“Indeed, Bob, the tension is palpable as the crowd awaits Devyn O’Dare aka Moses. Why Moses you ask? Because crowds part for him like the Red Sea and he delivers his opponents to God. This man is a freak of nature at six-two two-forty. He destroys people. We don’t even know if he has a ground game because he’s never needed one. He’s knocked out every opponent he’s faced, and he’s done it quick. All coming in the first round.”
“Yes, and here comes O’Dare into view as the crowd lets out a deafening roar. He’s stalking toward the octagon with his hood on as usual, and he looks laser sharp and focused.”
“Bob, look at Bradbury, he already looks nervous and for good reason. He’s been talking a lot of trash this week and at the weigh in. As always, O’Dare was stone silent. He lets his fists talk for him. And boy, do they send a—”
“Sorry to cut you off Chuck, but we are almost ready to start this bout. It’s for the heavyweight title, and O’Dare strips his robe off. He’s a machine, nothing but tattoos and muscle. He is built like a freight train folks and he looks ready to storm the center of the mat. O’Dare is a bit of a mystery, staying out of the media as much as possible. He came on the scene a year ago and has left nothing but bodies in his wake.”
“That’s right, Bob. Little is known about O’Dare other than he hails from here in Dallas and this home crowd loves him, along with the rest of the country.”
“The referee calls them to the center and explains the rules as we go live down below.”
“I want a clean fight. Tap gloves and go to your corners.”
“Chuck, O’Dare snubs the glove tapping as usual and walks to his corner. He makes a quick cross with his gloves and turns around, in fighting position. Bradbury looks displeased with O’Dare’s insult. Tapping gloves is a custom in the world of MMA, meant to show respect to your opponent. The referee signals for the fight to begin. O’Dare roars out of the corner and both fighters stop a few feet from each other and circle, keeping their distance just out of striking range. Bradbury swings and misses, O’Dare dodging him easily as they circle back up. Bradbury swings again. Ohhh my word, O’Dare dodges the strike and lands a foot to the side of Bradbury’s face and belts out a roar. We are all of eleven seconds into this match and the crowd is on their feet. Bradbury is face down on the mat and not moving. This thing is over, Chuck! Done! Bradbury’s corner rushes out to check on him as O’Dare crashes through the gate and stalks up the runway as usual, looking straight ahead like a possessed demon.”
“Yeah, Bob, he’s not much for sticking around. He made quick work of Bradbury as we watch the replay. Oh my, he’s going to need to be checked out. That’s just brutal to watch. That’ll churn your stomach.”
“And there you have it folks, the title remains safe with O’Dare. Still undefeated heavyweight champ at a record of seven wins, no losses, all by knockout. We have to go to a brief
“I’m Bob Gamble coming back to you live with Chuck Kimbrell in Dallas, Texas, and it’s time for the main event of Ultra MMA 157. The arena is sold out at capacity. Twenty-two thousand people on their feet as we look down to Mark Bradbury making his way to the octagon. Chuck, he looks focused and determined as ever after finally getting his title shot.”
“Yeah Bob, that’s correct, people call him The Grinder, a name he well deserves for his ground and pound style tactics in the octagon. At six-one two-twenty he has long legs and arms that he ties opponents up with. His striking game has been on point as of late though, drastically improving since his first two fights.”
“And this should get interesting, Chuck, as Mark bounces around awaiting on his opponent. And there they go. The lights have dimmed and there goes the music. Hells Bells by ACDC and you know what that means.”
“Indeed, Bob, the tension is palpable as the crowd awaits Devyn O’Dare aka Moses. Why Moses you ask? Because crowds part for him like the Red Sea and he delivers his opponents to God. This man is a freak of nature at six-two two-forty. He destroys people. We don’t even know if he has a ground game because he’s never needed one. He’s knocked out every opponent he’s faced, and he’s done it quick. All coming in the first round.”
“Yes, and here comes O’Dare into view as the crowd lets out a deafening roar. He’s stalking toward the octagon with his hood on as usual, and he looks laser sharp and focused.”
“Bob, look at Bradbury, he already looks nervous and for good reason. He’s been talking a lot of trash this week and at the weigh in. As always, O’Dare was stone silent. He lets his fists talk for him. And boy, do they send a—”
“Sorry to cut you off Chuck, but we are almost ready to start this bout. It’s for the heavyweight title, and O’Dare strips his robe off. He’s a machine, nothing but tattoos and muscle. He is built like a freight train folks and he looks ready to storm the center of the mat. O’Dare is a bit of a mystery, staying out of the media as much as possible. He came on the scene a year ago and has left nothing but bodies in his wake.”
“That’s right, Bob. Little is known about O’Dare other than he hails from here in Dallas and this home crowd loves him, along with the rest of the country.”
“The referee calls them to the center and explains the rules as we go live down below.”
“I want a clean fight. Tap gloves and go to your corners.”
“Chuck, O’Dare snubs the glove tapping as usual and walks to his corner. He makes a quick cross with his gloves and turns around, in fighting position. Bradbury looks displeased with O’Dare’s insult. Tapping gloves is a custom in the world of MMA, meant to show respect to your opponent. The referee signals for the fight to begin. O’Dare roars out of the corner and both fighters stop a few feet from each other and circle, keeping their distance just out of striking range. Bradbury swings and misses, O’Dare dodging him easily as they circle back up. Bradbury swings again. Ohhh my word, O’Dare dodges the strike and lands a foot to the side of Bradbury’s face and belts out a roar. We are all of eleven seconds into this match and the crowd is on their feet. Bradbury is face down on the mat and not moving. This thing is over, Chuck! Done! Bradbury’s corner rushes out to check on him as O’Dare crashes through the gate and stalks up the runway as usual, looking straight ahead like a possessed demon.”
“Yeah, Bob, he’s not much for sticking around. He made quick work of Bradbury as we watch the replay. Oh my, he’s going to need to be checked out. That’s just brutal to watch. That’ll churn your stomach.”
“And there you have it folks, the title remains safe with O’Dare. Still undefeated heavyweight champ at a record of seven wins, no losses, all by knockout. We have to go to a brief
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