Calling a Stone Cold Bluffby Mike Moran

So after much anticipation my day has finally come. Countless hours of sparring, jumping rope, bag work, and intense cardio sessions (not to mention even more hours of begging my Krus to allow me to compete) has lead me here. It’s showtime…

A fighter spends a lot of time preparing for fights both mentally and physically. They strategize and rely on the faith that they put in more or better work than their opponent. Every competitor feels they have something up their sleeve that will lead them to victory. However, on fight night, all bluffs are called and both you and your foe have to show your hand. I drove up to Tampa for the weigh ins with my Kru, Mark Trillas. I tried my best to stay engaged in a conversation pertaining to anything but my fight, but sudden floods of anxiety and self-doubt had me asking my Kru if he truly thought I was ready. With Mark’s reassurance the excitement of competition would once again take over. The weigh in, was in short, awkward. You have the promoters and officials trying to be professional and efficient. You have fighters of many different attitudes doing there thing. Some walk in zoned out from the world, some come in trying to be “Billy Badasses” and grilling everyone, some shoot the breeze with there buddies, and of course you have the ever most entertaining Divas prancing in like they’re Madonna.

After the weigh in I learned that it’s ritual to have a big ceremonial feast afterwards. Everyone on the team was starving due to cutting weight but I on the other hand was under weight so couldn’t share the same joy to pig out since I had stuffed my face earlier that day. We all returned to our hotel rooms and decided to call it a night. After all, we knew we had a big day ahead of us. The day of the fight the guys and I wake up early to eat fruit and granola. With a lot of time to kill Joe, Mark, and I decide to catch a movie, Bruno and his homosexual antics probably wasn’t the best film to watch before a fight but there wasn’t any testosterone boosting action films at the box office at the time. Restless and ready to go to war these were the last moments before we headed to the venue. These last moments closely resemble the scene from the “Last Samurai” where the samurai prepare for the movies climatic end war scene. We say our prayers, listen to our Ipods, kiss our loved ones, and cultivate mental peace. This is the proverbial calm before the storm.

First to represent the Florida Sanshou & Muay Thai Team was Joe Miller. Joe fought a lion hearted nakmuay by name the of Kyle Kling from Elite Muay Thai. A war was fought and Joe walked away with a win by decision. I was up next… I am giddy to finally see what I could do when I fight with all my strength and heart. But the thought of freezing on stage was still in the back of my mind. My fight didn’t go exactly as planned but there are no excuses and on a positive note I didn’t freeze. I lost by decision to Enock Placid of Elite Muay Thai. I became feral and fought one dimensionally relying exclusively on my left cross, just moving forward and brawling. Not the best display of my beloved art but nonetheless it was a hell of a lot of fun.

The next two to get in the ring were Mark, followed by Eric. Mark took a nasty over hand but quickly recovered and controlled almost the entire fight utilizing the clinch and pounding his rival with kicks. While Eric dropped his opponent, smiled at his adversaries strikes, and obliterated him with knees to the point in which his foe couldn’t stand at the end of the fight, for some reason they both lost by decision.

Now, I am a realist and I’m perfectly happy to admit my loss and wouldn’t lie to myself by saying I deserved to win that fight. But after watching both Eric and Mark’s fights I learned another valuable lesson that even when you have a better hand sometimes, someone has stacked the deck against you. My first fight was not a story of triumph but a story of growth. I got the whole nine. I got my hands wrapped, warmed up, threw on my robe and mongkol, sealed the ring, and left it all in there. I finally did what I’ve dreamt of doing for so long. All I can do now is jump back on the circuit and hope next time I play with a better hand.

A Moment of Insanityby Joe Miller

I'm feeling an old feeling come back tonight. The feeling I used to get before I would do something crazy, something no-one expects.

An anxious, nervous feeling that I used to only combat with mindless rage and senseless action. A feeling that could dictate my actions like a puppet master. A feeling that I was horribly terrified of.

It's different now. It's changed into something more calm. It's changed into something more selective and brooding. A deeply morbid meditation that takes over my body and prepares it physically and mentally for the upcoming battle. I am powerless over it, it is me, it is my style of fighting, it is my mental capacity to want brutality over another human being, but not just for the sake to see his face bleed, but for the sake to see his blood on my glove, and to feel my own running down my face.

It is when you feel yourself hinge on the brink of insanity. In the momentary pause of the battle, when the adrenaline kicks in, the crowd roars and I get goosebumps. Directly after you land a hard shot on him, or he on you, when your eyes wont blink and your body wont quit. When your mind says 'yeaaa' with an extended 'a' in a deep breathless tone. When you want it more than anything, and it's just sitting right in front of you and you have nothing to do but slap your own face and grin with a mad man's face that is no longer your own and move forward mindlessly unflinching and unworried of your own well being. You are no longer human in those fleeting seconds, you are above recognition on a sane thinking plane.
Completely consumed.

Therapeutic enough.

Turning Pointby Mike Moran

I am a nervous wreck and a pitiful image. A six foot tall, two hundred and ten pound man running out the shower with nothing but a towel on, swinging down the stairs in a tarzan-esque fashion. I'm desperately rummaging through my dryer for my still damp underarmour, Muay Thai shorts, and a pair of hand wraps which I should have hung dry so I wouldn't currently need to be untangling them while frantically driving. I have Muay Thai class in 20 minutes and I’ve made the near fatal mistake of skipping lunch so I know I have to get my favorite pre training snack… a banana (potassium is the shit!).

I go to the grocery store around the block, and as I'm leaving and obliterating my treat, I glance over to see a traditional martial arts school. Watching these disciplined little ninjas sit in horse stances I realized how far from that path I have strayed. No disrespect to the traditional arts that I grew up on. I have nothing but gratitude for the memories they gave me and how they have molded my childhood and adult life, but I no longer relate to those arts and theories, I believe in simple facts and "the science of eight limbs".

I remember when it first hit me. The moment the light bulb went off. The night I said “this is what I was looking for”. It was at a local amateur kickboxing event. This was my first time at one of these events and I was completely shell-shocked on how amazing it was. From the choice and volume of the music, to the lights and ring girls, this was a full-fledged entertainment event and a perfect podium to display our beloved art of Muay Thai.

A month prior to this event I went from training at a boxing/kickboxing gym to traning at a traditional Muay Thai gym. Oddly enough, my old school's top student was set to fight my new school’s top student as the main event. I was delighted because I saw this as a true testament of which school offered better training. FSMT’s own Eric Rivera was the man representing my new gym. At first glance, Eric has a modest physique, jolly appearance, and was set to square off with a fighter that has the physique of a bodybuilder and the icy stare of a hitman. I'm sure that based purely on looks, all the bookies were expecting Eric’s death. Long story short this fight revolutionized my thoughts on fighting,...muscles don’t matter and there are means of physical underdogs winning through clean technique and ring wisdom. Eric, being a crafty fighter, easily out maneuvered his foe using all angles to his advantage and gave his opponent a boxing lesson with countless unanswered knees in the clinch.

As though one win from team dynasty wasn’t enough to convince me of their legitimacy. Mark “Atilla” Trillas was also fighting in this event. Not quite as suspenseful as the main event, Mark wasn’t able to put on quite a show due to his challenger having to throw in the towel after receiving a merciless assault of leg kicks from Mark during the first minute of round 1. Mark coming back from injuries and facing an experienced fighter, demolished his opponents leg and spirit with only three kicks. I saw enough, I was sold.

Looking back I feel a sense of pride and achievement. I know I’ve come a long way
but now arriving here at Temple Arts, the official home of FSMT's Team Dynasty, preparing to train and hearing the bags and pads cry in pain, I look forward with a sense of hope and hunger, knowing I have an even longer way ahead of me.

Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll, and...Muay Thaiby Mike Moran

An ancient Chinese proverb states that a journey of a thousand steps begins with one. So with my best foot forward I have been taking the necessary steps to make my official amateur fight debut.

In order to understand what changes I’ve been making, you have to know where I’m coming from, and my role on Team Dynasty.

In short, I’m the boss, the alpha male role who calls the shots, HAHHAHAHAA! Actually, I'm the newest member and have the least amount of experience in the game of Sanshou/Muay Thai. I’m the stereotypical over-zealous young new kid on the team dying to prove myself and test what I am truly made of. I am nowhere near the fastest or most technical (not to kiss my own ass) but I have an undying determination and the will to train hardcore.

With that said when I’m not training, I have the nasty habit of smoking like a junkie, depriving myself of sleep by being over social, and eating shit food as though I were preparing for a famine. Even though I’ve been training diligently and have seen a world of improvements. Now that an actual battle in the ring is becoming more of a reality, especially in the near future, my mind is warping. I’ve gone my entire life thinking I was invincible. I was the silly kid jumping off rooftops, picking fights with the school bullies, and truly believing no matter what happens I will always walk away smelling like jasmines just because I’m Michael Alexander Moran.

Today, for the first time, I was forced to be honest and admit to myself that I am not immortal. Fear of failure, humiliation, and injury (physical and of my ego) has finally breached the confines of my mind. I question if I could go a day without a cigarette; Will I have the legs to get myself up if I am knocked down in the ring? Can I get over my stage fright? Will I remember my training and the skills I have learned? Under the tutelage of Eric “Luca” Rivera, Mark “Attila” Trillas, and Vinny “The Gladiator” Sgarlato (or as I view their coaching styles, Mr. Miyagi, Apollo Creed, and Mickey Goldmill), I know I have a strong family and team behind me that knows everything I need to do in order to become a real nakmuay.

I know what I have to do.

To be honest with you, the reader, and more importantly myself, I’m not sure if I can beat my nicotine addiction/sweet tooth and be as disciplined as I need to be. So far so good but this is truly only the beginning and only time will tell.