Now, for the nerve racking part. Bad news: in the real world, I have to get surgery, on my back. I'll be out, for a week, or so, then I'll finish this chapter, if I don't finish it by the end of today (12/7/15.)

UFC 184

There's so many things about tonight, that I can never forget. Warming up in the back, I hear the volume of the crowd, and suddenly realize that the place may now be packed, and the main card hasn't even started. I know who's responsible for that: Ronda Rousey. Heh, they all bought a ticket, and rushed to their seats, because they all want to see her fight, in the hopes that it's a long one, like her second fight, with Meisha Tate. But I know that what they will see, if Ronda wins, is her walking into the cage, waiting for the ref to say "fight," finishing her opponent in less then a minute, then leaving to catch her flight back home. At least, that's how my brother puts it. That doesn't matter to me tonight, though. Nor do any of the fights on this card. As far as I'm concerned, the only thing that matters on this card, is weather I get made, or broken. Hell, as far as I'm concerned, winning is the only option, and Kenny Sanchez is only in my way.

"Alright guys," a security guard says, poking his head, into my locker room. "Time to start your entrance."

And now, it's put up, or shut up time.

Never Enough, Five Finger Death Punch. I used that song as my walkout song, my entire time, in King of the Cage. Now that I'm in the UFC, I'll consider changing my theme, but for now, I'm sticking with this song. I'm wearing white shorts, with Harley Davidson, Dr. Pepper, and my training camp logo (Xtreme Couture) a plain Tank top, and my new camo UFC hat. I've got the mouthpiece in, a knee brace, for the left knee, which had MCL surgery two years ago. Half the crowd cheers me, and half boos me. But the only thing I hear is the music. That's the only thing I ever hear, when I'm this focused on a fight. I step into the prep point, the ref rubs Vaseline on my face, has me hold out my arms, for standard procedure, and checks to see I have my mouthpiece. Then, I address my corner men, and walk into the cage, and as I always do, slam the door shut, behind me. Then, I hear nothing, until after Kenny steps into the cage, and Bruce Buffer begins the introductions.

"Introducing first, FIGHTING OUT OF THE BLUE CORNER! a Mixed Martial Artist, holding a professional record of: 15 wins, 3 losses. He stands six feet, two inches tall, weighing in at 258 lbs. Fighting out of Las Vegas, Nevada, by way of Chicago, Illinois. Griffin 'The Destroyer' Walker!"

I open my eyes, as he says my name, look into the camera, with an angry expression on my face, make an x with my arms, give two horns up, then look at Kenny. I can once again, hear nothing, until I hear the referee ask if I'm ready to fight. I nod, Kenny does the same, and the ref says "Let's go!" We both walk to the center of the cage, and touch gloves. Usual start to my fights: ten seconds circling around each other. I take the first shot, with a left jab. I move my head back, as he goes to hit me with an elbow strike. I push him back, then throw two leg kicks, on his left leg, before hitting another left jab. About 50 seconds have passed, in this first round.

As I take a couple steps forward, Sanchez steps back, then shoots for a takedown. I stuff the takedown, and have him in the sprawl position. I've never had this position for long, so I take however much time I have, to punch him in the head. I land five punches, before he finally makes it back to his feet. As he does, I grab his head, and bring it down to my left knee, which is slightly reinforced, by my knee brace. Hurts my knee, just as much as his face, though. But I'll live. There's three and a half minutes left in the fight.

I throw a sharp right kick to his gut. He takes it, and finally throws strikes at me. Good combination of them. I switch my stance, putting my right foot forward, instead of my left. I mainly maintain my position, taking small steps every four, or five seconds, to my right, or forward. In this time, it's jabs to the face, chin, or body. And then, I throw a kick that would make Shawn Michaels proud. I hit Kenny with the knife edge of my right foot. Sanchez drops, and he's out cold. I wait for the ref, who stops the fight, when he sees Kenny hit the floor. The fight was over, two minutes, and 24 seconds into the fight.

I've done it. I knew I would be counted the underdog, like I would've been if this fight had taken place, on it's original date. I didn't care, because I know that the odds don't mean shit. I look at the camera, show off my mouthpiece, then do Kane's throat slash, with the thumb, and index finger. I then climb the cage wall, pushing my left toes into the chains, and resting my right knee on the top of the cage wall. I throw up two horns, then throw out a salute, to the crowd. When I got back onto the floor, and perform my friend's old celebration: Jumping, slamming my feet to the ground, and roaring, just like my buddy, Bill Goldberg. With Randy Couture not allowed to attend UFC events, anymore, Forrest Griffin is the head corner man, and he embraces me. "Hell of a debut, kid!" He says. I smile, and nod. Robert Follis uses scissors, to help remove the blue tape, so I can take off the gloves. I stand in the center of the cage, as Bruce Buffer speaks.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, referee Herb Dean has called a stop to this contest, at three minutes, 26 seconds, of the very first round. Declaring the winner, by knockout, Griffin "The Destroyer" Walker!"

"Alright," Joe Rogan starts, the moment I never thought I'd have, just a few months ago. "I'm here with your winner, Griffin Walker. Griffin, you've got to be very happy right now."

"Absolutely." I start. "A few months ago, I didn't know where my career was gonna go, with me being cut from that final King of the Cage card. I'm uh... I'm feeling great now."

"Let's go back to the ending moment of this fight," a replay hit the big screens. "you switched your stance up, earlier in the fight, and it allowed you to make some distance, and land a side kick, to Sanchez's chin."

"I've used that kick to help me get closer to a win in the past, and this time around, it's what gave me the win."

"How bout that, eh? Plenty people have thrown a side kick, to the face in MMA. I think you're the first person to knock someone out with it, in an MMA fight."

"Wow."

"Yeah. So what's next for you?"

"Uh, that's not up to me. Whatever they give me, I'll take it."

"Well we look forward to it, whatever it may be. Griffin Walker, ladies and gentlemen!" I salute the crowd, then walk out of the cage.

Dana White meets me, on the outside. "Hey kid," he starts. "great job." He shakes my hand. "Now you might want to turn around, because someone's here to see you."

I turn all the way around, and find Paige jumping into my embrace. She kisses me on the lips, and we stand in that spot for a minute. She then sets her feet to the ground, and we walk back to the locker room. "Congratulations, Walker." Dana says to me.

"Thank you." I say.

Surgery was successful. Woke up early this morning, and put the finishing touches on this chapter, from my I-pad.