As a child of the VHS era, I see no shame in admitting that the oeuvre of Jean-Claude Van Damme was a substantial part of my adolescence. That "Bloodsport" is roughly as competent a film as a 7-11 surveillance video made no difference. One does not sit for a Van Damme vehicle expecting an accomplished narrative and clever dialogue.
Which is just as well, since you couldn't understand anything coming out of his mouth anyway.
That being said, it wasn't long before I realized Van Damme's skills were best suited to a B-movie bargain rack. He ignored challenges by Don Wilson, an accredited kickboxer and fellow thespian, and was summarily punched into obscurity by the aforementioned Chuck Zito.
None of this seemingly forced humility stopped Van Damme's ego. In 2004, he proclaimed he intended to fight in a K-1 event; in 2005, he amended his fiction by telling friends that he had signed to fight
Bas Rutten (Pictures).
Against my better judgment, I'll still take in the occasional Van Damme flick: being delusional, after all, is a good character trait for an actor.
From the time audience members first dodged flying teeth in the inaugural Ultimate Fighting Championship, there's been no end to traditionalists who insist that they would dominate in the Octagon -- if only their pesky Budo code didn't prohibit their participation.
The first man to engorge his reputation by declaring himself being too deadly for arranged combat was Emin Boztepe, a Wing Tshun stylist. Boztepe was undefeated in sanctioned bouts. He also had no wins. Promoters had approached Boztepe for the first UFC, but he declared himself retired. When the show became a hot-button topic for self-defense media, Boztepe declared that they were "no more real than the professional wrestling shows on TV."
When the Gracie's attempted to set up an un-televised bout at the Los Angeles Police Academy, Boztepe declined, saying that the bout would be illegal in California. He then helpfully suggested other dojos that were in the same state. Lawyers became involved and the whole thing devolved into a paperwork war. Normally nonplussed,
Royce Gracie (Pictures) called Boztepe a "clown" in the pages of Black Belt.
Nary has a week gone by without someone in the MMA community invoking the name
Rickson Gracie (Pictures) -- this paragraph being a prime example.
Nearing 50 and inactive for eight years, Gracie is as relevant to the current combat sports scene as John L. Sullivan. Despite his age, sabbatical and limited dimension, Gracie is fond of pontificating on how he would best active fighters in competition. The latest rant came in the pages of Tokyo Sports in May, where he claimed
Fedor Emelianenko (Pictures) had "so-so technical ability" and was "100-percent sure" he would defeat him.
In any other walk of life, delusions of that magnitude earn you a straightjacket and involuntary committal. I actually find Rickson to be one of the most charismatic and interesting fighters in the sport's history, but the day a middle-aged middleweight gets the best of Emelianenko is the day Japan finally starts allowing firearms in the ring.
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