New York MMA: Revisited

*originally published in the Dec ’04 issue of Full Contact Fighter*

Part II

People walk in and take seats. Each person who arrives might be an undercover cop or Athletic Commission representative ready to call an abrupt end to the show, but Storm seems unconcerned. He’s still trying to convince Ellington to do him a huge favor and get into the ring. At six minutes in, the wrestler submits to a choke. As the ref separates the two, Ellington – despite nursing a hamstring injury and not having trained at all – finally agrees.

In the “locker room” (which is nothing more than a room upstairs with some battered chairs and tables), the pro gets ready as a radiator hisses and drips nearby. Downstairs, two more combatants go at it. Another freestyle fighter chokes a Tae Kwon Do guy until he gives up. It takes less than a minute. When they climb through the ropes and step down into the audience, the Tae Kwon Do stylist’s corner admonishes him for not just “pushing him off you and punching.”

His hands wrapped, his face set with determination, it’s Ellington’s turn now. He and his opponent, Felix Rodriguez, make their way into the ring. Rodriguez stands six-foot-one but weighs only 137 pounds. He faces off against Ellington in a match-up that would never happen in New Jersey or Nevada because the weight difference. The pro fighter takes off his shirt to reveal muscles that look like they’re carved out of stone. The crowd “oohs” and “ahhs”. Rodriguez is brave, and appears determined to put up a fight, but Ellington is never in any danger. For a minute and a half he batters the lighter man with his fists as they jockey for position on the canvas. Rodriguez’ corner throws in the towel and it ends. Sporting a few cuts and bruises on his face, he starts grinning once he catches his breath.

Now there’s only one bout left to go. Having won their respective matches in the impromptu four-man elimination tournament, Storm and Ellington square off - the judo black belt versus the pro. The two mix it up for a little more than three and half minutes while the audience cheers and hoots and hollers. Suddenly, Ellington torques the Storm’s arm until there’s a pop in the elbow joint. Storm submits.

It’s over. Slowly, the crowd filters out. “He broke my arm, yo,” Storm whispers to a friend. Nursing his elbow, he heads off to the emergency room at the nearby hospital. Ellington unwinds upstairs. The gym owners start packing up the chairs. Five fights went off and no one suffered any serious harm. Everyone seemed satisfied with what they saw. And most importantly, the police never showed to close Ground Zero down. As underground shows go, this one is a relative success.

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