[oats]

Portrait of a Warrior (Ode to BJ Penn)


at 35, the walk-in felt the same as a decade ago
lights dimmed, the crowd hushed, faces blurred to faded glow
his pace was slow. as he looked ahead the cage unfolded
music started, nerves departed, the sheer excitement raced him forward

50 yards and an Octagon was all that’s left of his career
a 25 minute Swan Song before he disappeared
that twitch of fear that it was near - a bland and boring brand torment
on the eve of his retirement, highlights of his past swam before him...

his first chance of glory - Jens Pulver for the lightweight champion’s belt
dominated rounds 1 and 2, felt him tap from the armbar after the bell
but alas he was felled in a controversial decision
that in hindsight would only serve to spurn his ambition

his second crack at the title, redemption beckoned
Caol Uno - a man he once knocked out in 11 seconds
the rematch went the distance, most gave him a 1-2 round advantage
called a Draw - then the lightweight division was suspiciously disbanded

crowned the unofficial champ of the lightweight division
to beat the best in the world became his life, his mission
the once-beaten Takanori Gomi was all everybody spoke about -
he bloodied him for 2 and a half rounds before he choked him out

a return to the UFC was becoming past due
so he stepped up to the wrecking ball known as Matt Hughes
Hughes was on a 13-fight win streak, hadn’t lost in 3 years
not only a weight class above, Matt was part of that elite tier
a reach for The Prodigy, people expected he’d get worked down
instead he dropped him with a straight and submitted him in the first round
he fought from lightweight to heavyweight, a legendary mystique made fast
1 of only two men to win titles in more than one weight class


his past was all behind him now, the heat of the lights
beamed down on the man across him who defeated him twice
this was his comeback and his send-off, a shot at redemption
the opportunity to add a final notch to his legend

opening bell, he pushes forward, pawing his jab tough
Frankie circled out of range, his reach caused him to back up
but it was only a matter of time until he figured out his rhythm
and he began to pepper Penn with combos in laser precision

it only went downhill from there for the beloved Pacific pugilist
body-body-head-TRIP, crashed to the mat in ruthlessness
doom eclipsed, Penn was in slow-motion compared to his foe
Frankie postured up in his guard, preparing to throw

it was a torrential downpour, storms of elbows and fists
Penn could only writhe beneath the rain that belted him quick
yet he dwelled in the thick of it, weathered the mauling
until the next thing he knew the ref was yelling to stop it
time melted and paused, Frankie gave him a wild embrace
BJ wore a gash on his eye, a swollen nose…and a smile on his face
his style had aged, no longer was he the Prodigy from years gone by
he was slower, weaker, tired - but still possessing fearless pride

washed away by the storm of younger talent - an unforgiving dance
“I shouldn’t have been in the ring tonight” he said…
but he was glad he took the chance