Death Clutch - Brock Lesnar [69]
That first round was a real test. Shane Carwin hit me hard, and he had me backpedaling. I had my bell rung, but I stayed calm. I don’t know how to describe it, but all the time Carwin was pounding on me, it kind of woke me up, made me remember who I am. Was I nervous that Josh Rosenthal was going to stop the fight? Yes I was.
I was answering him, but I was also defending myself and watching for an opening to get out of the predicament. I couldn’t hear my corner, and that’s when a fighter finds out how much heart he has. All the training . . . all the trainers . . . all the sparring partners . . . all the sparring matches . . . none of it matters unless you have the heart of a champion. When you have a big strong athlete like Shane Carwin doing everything he can to knock you out, you can either fold under the pressure or weather the storm.
With every punch he threw, I could tell Carwin was shooting his wad. Each punch was a little lighter than the previous one. In many ways, that first round was exactly like my battle with diverticulitis. I just had to persevere. I was very fortunate that the fight wasn’t stopped. I don’t think it should have been, but there have been bad decisions made before.
When Carwin exhausted himself throwing punches one after another, I made my move. I got to my feet and muscled him up against the fence. I just wanted to survive that first round. It would sum up what I had been through the past eight months. I’d be able to get back to my corner and regroup, but it would also destroy Carwin’s confidence. He hit me with everything he had and couldn’t put me away. I could feel him breathing as I just pinned him up against the cage. He was done. No one had ever survived the first round with this guy, and I not only accomplished that, but I took everything he had and was still up on my feet controlling him as the round ended.
As soon as I got back to my corner, Marty asked how I was doing. I grinned at him, and said, “I’m doing great.” Marty said, “Good, then put him away!” I had just taken a beating, but I felt fine, almost relieved. I was so concerned about getting knocked out after being out of the Octagon for a year, and now I knew there was no way my opponent was going to even luck into a knockout. There are two words that just don’t go together in the English language . . . TIRED and DANGEROUS. Shane Carwin was tired.
Two minutes into the second round, it was all over. I got a takedown on Carwin, and forced him to tap to a choke. Just like UFC 100 against Frank Mir, it was Comprido who came up with the strategy for how to finish off Carwin. We figured Carwin’s camp was going to study whatever tapes they could of me, and there weren’t many, because I only had four fights in UFC. Carwin was going to be careful about the half crucifix I used against Frank Mir. Comprido thought as soon as I took Carwin down and went for any kind of headlock choke, Carwin would get his arm in there, because that’s the natural defense to the move. “He’s going to want to get his body in toward yours,” Comprido kept telling me as we worked on the variation of the choke over and over again in training camp, “but if you spread out, and use your wrestling base, you’ll submit this guy.”
When Joe Rogan interviewed me after the fight, I didn’t say anything controversial. Like I always do, I spoke from the heart. “I am a man blessed by God,” I told the world, and I truly felt that way. My wife was ready to give birth to my son Duke . . . I had come off my deathbed and defended my title . . . and I got through that first round beating to tap out Shane Carwin. I was in a great place. What more could I want out of life?
Epilogue
It is Sunday, March 20, 2011, and my deadline to finish this book is tomorrow morning. I was going to end it with a chapter about my fight with Cain Velazquez. But after all of these months, I’ve still never even watched the tape. I don’t even want to think about it. I’m not ready yet.