yoooo I was cleaning/organizing my comp and found this I wrote for an AOWL mag

[oats]

and it's actually kinda dope. it was saved as "The Beauty of Losing." here it is:




I always idolized BJ Penn growing up. Not only for the shared place of origin, but because he embodied a certain mystique of invincibility that nobody else seemed to come close to. He was freakishly talented, ambitious to a fault, and brash enough to believe - better yet, to know - that he would accomplish his goals. Which is exactly what he did, typically in spectacular fashion. A natural 155 pounder, his early career saw him compete and win fights in weight classes up to heavyweight (well, he was a bloated 187 pounds, but his opponent was at a comfortable 220). This including a breezy championship win at 170, and two should’ve-been championship 155 fights.

That’s where his real mystique settled: his losses. Yes, he had incredible wins, but it was how he lost that cemented his initial legacy. That is to say, all of his losses happened under questionable circumstances. At least, in the perception of the BJ Penn fan.

1. Loss to Jens Pulver: The two first met for the inaugural lightweight strap. This was the first closely contested match of BJ’s career, and he ended up losing a majority decision (one judge called it a draw, the other two in favor of Pulver). Not only was it a razor-thin decision, at the end of round 2, BJ caught Jens in an armbar, and you can clearly see him tapping out right as the bell rang. It was contended at the time whether or not he tapped, but it left a large asterisk by the validity of the win for Jens.

2. Draw against Caol Uno: This was a rematch for BJ. In their first encounter, BJ bumrushed Uno in an 11 second knockout that announced BJ’s arrival to the lightweight title. Their second encounter was for the vacant lightweight championship (BJ’s second crack at UFC brass). Unbeknownst to the competitors, the UFC was already planning at doing away with the lightweight division, as its fighters were not profitable draws at the time. BJ easily won 3 rounds, possible won another, and dropped one. To the shock and dismay of everyone in attendance (as well as anyone who watches the fight now), the bout was called a draw, and used as kindling for the fire to get rid of the LW division. Another questionable non-win for the Prodigy.

3. Loss to Lyoto Machida: After thoroughly thrashing and submitting the consensus world #1 lightweight (Takanori Gomi) and repeating that same feat at welterweight with a first round submission of pound-for-pound stalwart Matt Hughes for the UFC belt, BJ went on a mission to find the most challenging fights he could, regardless of weight class. This culminated in a showdown with future UFC champ Lyoto Machida, who outweighed BJ by nearly 30 pounds at the weigh-ins. This turned out to be a close decision loss, despite BJ landing more strikes against his oversized opponent. Years later, Fightmetric would qualify this as a statistic win for BJ, a trite silver-lining for the man himself, but another weapon in the arsenal for BJ supporters.

4. Loss to George St. Pierre: After his foray into other weight classes and organizations, BJ had a highly-trumpeted return to the weight class he briefly championed. In his return fight, he was pitted against up-and-coming star GSP, who was hailed as the next generation fighter for being expertly well-rounded and a superior athletic specimen. This was the foundation for the foil of Penn’s career, as GSP’s cardio and athleticism would prove too much for the raw talent and suspect cardio of Penn. Prior to this fight, Penn was an outspoken advocate for not preparing for fights - his rationale being that it wasn’t a true reflection of real fighting (if you’re in a street fight, you don’t say “hey meet me in 12 weeks after we both train for each other”). This ended up costing Penn the match, as he smashed GSP in round one, but succumbed to numerous takedowns in which zero damage was reciprocated. The end result was a split decision loss for Penn, whereupon he famously quipped “[GSP] spent the night at the hospital, I spent the night at the bar.” By most accounds, BJ won the fight, but lost the competition, mostly due to poor cardio.

5. Loss to Matt Hughes: After GSP earned the title shot by besting Penn, he had to pull out due to an injury. This cleared the path for BJ’s redemption - not only to prove that his first win against Hughes wasn’t a fluke, but also that he could train for better cardio and cash in on his enormous talent. And for two rounds, he did just that, dominating the standup with crisp boxing, as well as the ground with excellent grappling wizardry, including one of the most electrifying positional changes from full guard to back control in UFC history. He closed the second round with a near finish, but looked visibly drained at the end of the round. After losing by TKO (first time being finished in his career, though it was counted a TKO because he was unable to advance position, not because he was actually knocked out), news broke that not only did BJ fail to prepare for cardio (again), he also separated his ribs in the aforementioned sweep to back control. Again, even when being finished in a fight, another asterisk.


Similar stories exist for his losses to GSP in the rematch (Grease-gate, as it was later known) and his first loss to Frankie Edgar, where he won 3/5 rounds in the eyes of just about everyone who did not officially judge the fight. And so the legend of BJ grew not only in his victories, but also by the questionable status of almost every loss. I can’t say whether or not, or to what extent BJ bought into these asterisks and excuses for his losses, but as a fan, I know that over the years one thing became very apparent. None of that mattered. Those were still losses on his record, but beyond that, he was still viewed with the same mystique and allure that he always had been, despite suffering a handful of losses that didn’t have such easy alibis. His record is unimpressive, but he is still widely considered the greatest lightweight fighter of all time.

BJ once said, and I took this to heart, “All I want is to be known as the best ever - is that too much to ask?” Of course, this was said with a wide grin and wild look in his eyes, but it’s a notion that we can all relate to, in whatever endeavor we choose. For us in the AOWL, I’d assume most of us have a similar ambition - if not to be the best ever, at least to be the best version of ourselves we can be. It sucks to lose. Nobody competes with the intention of losing, but do it long enough and it happens. Sometimes you’ll win when you probably should’ve lost, and sometimes you’ll lose when you probably should’ve won. But in the end, what does it matter?

To be sure, the message here isn’t “losing will one day make you a winner,” although that’s most certainly true. Nor am I saying “we’re all winners with the right attitude!” What I’m saying is, we’re all winners. And losers. And everything in between, depending on the day. It’s an inescapable reality; over the course of our lifetime, we are everything on the spectrum. It’s the beauty of being human.

Recently, my friend and I have been going on sunrise swims, watching the emergence of a new day from the front row of the ocean. Even in Hawaii, the water at 6AM is pretty chilly, as is the walk to the beach. But once you dive in, swim around, and let yourself acclimate to the temperature, always, without fail, the water becomes the perfect temperature. If winning is akin to the warm coziness of a blanket of puppies, losing would be the exhilarating jolt of a cold pool. One is more immediately inviting and rewarding, but there’s value to both. Eventually, if you’re goal is to properly aligned, it always becomes perfect.

Life isn’t always pretty, but it’s always beautiful.


*****


I started the season off 8-0, and I was proud of that. Not only because I was undefeated, but because all but one of those went to votes - no losses, no bullshit victories. Plus, aside from my rematch with Zygote, I won by a comfortable margin every time, and even in that instance I was never too concerned that I was going to lose. Of course it felt good. If we’re being honest, a part of the reason any of us do this is for validation and recognition (to varying extents, of course). We want people to not just vote for us, but to tell us we’re awesome, talented, oh so clever with words and rhymes and ideas. Oats, you da man. Tell me more.

But along came Pancake, the first of now two late rallies that have thrown me on my current skid. Deflating was the word that I used, because I lost, even though I was confident that I won. That’s not to say Cake’s verse wasn’t good - on the contrary, it was great in a lot of ways. I just think mine was better, as I’m sure he feels about his verse. As a sidenote, we typically write the things we enjoy reading, so our attempts at objective valuation of our own work is generally pretty useless. Regardless, most losses give that immediate feeling of punctured ego, the sting of regret and betrayal.

Naturally, I ran through the gamut of excuses. I was busy that week. People were anxious to see a new champion. Split is one of Pancake’s aliases. Dyed cast a shitty vote. Certain was blinded by his infatuation. And for a few moments, these quell the disappointment of losing, as realistic or far-fetched as they may be.

In spite of that, I find myself at the bottom of the ranks following a two week skid, losing in close, last-minute rallies. Which gives me two options: pick apart the reasons why these losses were questionable and convince myself that I really did win them, or…not do that. It sounds simple to the point of stupid, but that’s the best dichotomy I arrived at. Whatever that second option is, just don’t do the first. For me, that means continuing to show up every week. I could very easily be 8-3 after this week, and down 1-2 to my nemesis Vulgar to boot. But at the end of the day, I don’t keep my wins and losses column. I keep my verses.

Let me be clear. All I want is to be known as the best topical writer ever. I don’t think that’s too much to ask. My goal is not to have the best record ever. The beauty is that those two are very different things. If anything, losing ruins one of those goals, and propagates the other.