Got Fight? Read online

  To my stepfather, Clifford Abramson, for teaching me how to be a man.

  To my beautiful wife, Jaime, for putting up with me.

  To Mike Pyle for being the best cornerman in the world, which is much like being the best bridesmaid in the world.

  To Byron Danielson for being able to figure anything out.

  To the letter q (lowercase only) for being exotic.

  To John Wood for defining the stereotypical Vegas douche bag, yet still being a great guy.

  To Mark Beacher for having cool tattoos.

  To Randy Couture for being an inspiration to old folks everywhere.

  To James Roday for being clever the way I want to be.

  To Bob Saget—enough said.

  To Mike Whitehead for being a tank.

  To broccoli for smelling like farts before you eat it and being difficult to spell.

  To Hollywood for somehow making it cool to be Irish. It’s getting so popular, in fact, that we’re thinking about making a move on the Jews.

  Special thanks to Paul Thatcher for the photographs that appear in the insert.

  Special thanks to Bret Aita for his editing genius.

  Special thanks to Heidi Seibert for all of her efforts to promote this book.

  You should be in good physical condition before beginning this or any martial arts program. The author and the publisher assume no responsibility for any injuries suffered or damages or losses incurred during or as a result of following the program in this book.

  Many of the names, places, and even facts in this book have been changed to protect Forrest Griffin from getting sued by a bunch of douche bags. Very few small animals were harmed during the making of this book. The ones that were harmed were not in the “cute” category, so it’s all good.

  A NOTE FROM THE PUBLISHER

  We and Forrest had some harsh verbal and physical altercations in the course of selecting a title for this book, which is obviously Got Fight? (If you missed it, we wouldn’t go admitting that to anyone because it’s on the damn cover.) Forrest is a formidable opponent—one with devastating leg kicks, sick submissions, and a jaw like a cast-iron stove, but we bite and he tapped out, and we got our wish—to call this book Got Fight?, which we think is pretty friggin’ provocative. But we did agree to note his objection in the beginning of the book. Here is a phone message Forrest left for his editor on New Year’s Eve 2009 (we suspect that alcohol was involved):

  I hate to beat a dead horse but you sound like a woman on your fucking little answering machine there. This is Forrest Griffin, as you can tell I’m from fuckin’ Georgia—not just Georgia, FUCKIN’ Georgia. Got Fight? is not a good title for me. Look, the whole “Got Milk?” thing was 1994. I actually Googled that shit. Nineteen ninety fuckin’ four. It’s more than a decade past, brother, so, uh, we’re going to come up with a new title and you’re going to develop a manly voice like mine [dark, raspy laugh].

  Publisher’s rebuttal: “Got Milk?” is still alive and well and milk builds strong, healthy bones, just like Forrest’s.

  Here are Forrest’s titles, big, tough creative guy that he is:

  Who Moved My Nose? (his favorite)

  Fist Meets Face

  Death Is a Journey and My Bags Are Packed—The Forrest Griffin Story

  Punch Drunk

  Face Full of Scars

  A Few Scars More (assuming we do a sequel)

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  For some reason, writers like to thank people at the beginning of their books. I understand if the book is really good, like Hemingway good, but what if the book sucks? I’m pretty sure that the book you are currently holding will only make you stupider, and I don’t want to insult anyone I care about by putting them in the acknowledgments. It would be like dropping a turd into a napkin, setting the greasy bundle on the shelf in a bookstore, and then calling home and saying, “Hey Mom, just wanted to thank you for making the dump in a napkin possible.” I tried backing out on the acknowledgments altogether, but my publisher used a bunch of big words, like foreclosure of guilt. He said he didn’t want people to know the book was a turd in a napkin until after they bought a copy. I then tried to thank a bunch of people I actually hated, you know, to insult them by being associated with this book, but I got shut down (thank you, Satan; thank you, “guy who beat me up in the fourth grade,” and, thank you, hot chicks who laughed at me in high school). So, I guess I have to thank some of the people I really care about. If you happen to be one of those people (and I’m sure you are, because what kind of idiot actually reads the acknowledgments to a book), please, please forgive me.

  First and foremost, I would like to thank my mother for pulling me out of the Georgia public school system. It would have been nice if she could have done it before I got my ass kicked forty thousand times, but I guess later is better than never. I would also like to thank Kevin Garnett’s mother because she, too, seems to have done a good job. Next, I would like to thank Adam and Rory Singer of the Hardcore Gym. Rory is an awesome friend because he never lets us get overcharged for anything. If we go to eat and our bill is five cents too much, he’ll raise hell. It doesn’t matter if the waitress only weighs a hundred pounds, he’ll fight the bitch right there on the spot. Adam is the world’s best grappler in the state of Georgia for a period of two or three minutes. After those two or three minutes, he gets up and has a soda—Oh, you’ve almost got that submission, Forrest, think it’s time to grab a Coke…Oh, I’m sure you could do a lot from that dominant position, but you got to get off me because I’m having an asthma attack. Best go get a Diet Dr Pepper. In addition to showing me the tricks of the grappling trade, he has also been my primary source for reading recommendations. He’s the guy who turned me on to Fight Club before the movie came out. I also admire him for the direction finder built into his head. Under the influence of extreme amounts of alcohol, he not only has the uncanny ability to find the rent-a-car, but he can also take us from any strip club back to the hotel. Seriously, every one in the car could be completely lost, and he just points off into the darkness of night and goes, “I think home is somewhere over there.” Everything about the guy is impressive, but his biggest accomplishment to date is inventing the acronym MILF. Some people might doubt this, but swear to God, he was using that shit ten years before American Pie.

  The last guy I would like to thank is my editor, Adam Korn. Originally, there were twenty editors who wanted to work on this book, but he bested all of them in an illegal cage match. I just recently learned that 90 percent of editors are women, so I’m not sure of the kind of competition he faced, but I can honestly say this book would not have been written without him. Adam Korn is a unique martial artist in that he’s not fat, forty years old, and into brainwashing kids. He understands the mind-set of a fighter and helped shape, write, and edit this book from beginning to end. (Fuck you, Adam. I want the thirty-eight bucks you promised me for writing this horsecrap acknowledgment. I’m coming for you, bitch. I’m coming!)

  YOU MUST TAKE THIS TEST BEFORE READING MY BOOK

  All the really cool roller coasters of the world require you to be a certain height to experience their awesomeness. In no way is my book as cool as a roller coaster, but nevertheless, I have imposed a restriction on those of you who are attempting to read it. I don’t give a shit about how tall you are or how much you weigh. I don’t even care if you’re into really weird shit, like burning your nipples and stuff. All I care about is your manliness. I mean, how would it make me look if a bunch of sissies were reading my book in between their pillow fights? Not too good, that’s how. So before I fill that empty brain of yours with all sorts of smart things, I’m going to give you a test, much like the tests Cosmo gives to women. And shut the fuck up about how I know such tests exist. It’s c
alled research, dumb-ass. So anyway, instead of testing whether or not your lover is worthy, I’m going to test your testosterone levels. If you’re a woman, I don’t want to hear your sniveling. There are a lot of women out there who are manly, so you best sprout a hairy sac in a hurry. This book is about guy shit.

  Now, if you score forty points or above on the test, feel free to walk tall, brother. You are indeed a real man, and I have no problem with you absorbing the knowledge on the coming pages. If you score between thirty and forty points, you’ve got some chest hair to grow. I’ll still let you read my book, but it must be done in the privacy of your own home. If someone should ask you if you read my book, you must say, “No, I tried, but it is far too manly for me to comprehend.” If you score below twenty points, put my book down immediately and back away from it slowly. As a matter of fact, you might as well slip into a pair of panties, slap on some lipstick, and learn how to become a really bad driver because there is no hope of you ever becoming a man. No one is watching you take this test, sister, so you won’t be doing anyone any favors by cheating. Just so you know, chicks cheat on these kinds of tests all the time. When asked if their man’s love stick is large enough, they always check “no.” Lying bitches. The reason I bring this up is that a real man never follows in the footsteps of a woman, so if you cheat, you are not only unmanly, you are also going to hell. Seriously.

  #1 You wake up one morning to find a really fat chick lying next to you in bed. How do you react?

  a) You somehow convince the Woolly Mammoth to squeeze out your bedroom window so no one sees her leave, remove the wiry hair from between your teeth, and never tell a living soul about what you have done.

  b) Have her leave through the front door, but make up a bunch of excuses about how you were too drunk to get it up when your buddies start busting your balls.

  c) Take her out for breakfast and nod “what’s up?” to your friends when they give you funny looks. You don’t go so far as to lick the syrup off her lips at the end of the meal, but you smile and treat her with respect.

  d) Thank her for taking your virginity and nervously ask her for her phone number.

  e) Do not wake her up. Just leave your home and never come back.

  ANSWERS

  a) +0 points. Let me break this down for you. Sleeping with a fat chick is an automatic-5 points, but covering up the dark moments of your life like an old-school vet is definitely manly, earning you +5 points. If you should ever find yourself in this scenario and react in such a manner, consider it a wash on the manliness scale.

  b) -10 points. In this scenario, you get-5 points for sleeping with a fat chick, and then you get another-5 points for being a whining bitch.

  c) +5 points. If a real man slips in a pile of dog shit, rolls down a hill into a puddle of pig shit, claws his way out only to be shit on by a cow, he still climbs to his feet with pride. Sleeping with a fat chick and holding your head high is the same type of scenario. It requires balls of steel and an unbreakable sense of pride, earning you +10 hard-earned points of manliness. Subtract the five points for the deed itself, and you end up with +5.

  d) +0 points. If this was your answer, the reason I didn’t award negative points is that I am now going to ask you politely to stop taking this test. All real men lose their virginity to prostitutes. However, if the fat chick in question was indeed a nighttime model, I will let you slide with zero points and a warning.

  e) -15 points. You are a coward, and cowards aren’t manly.

  #2 Which do you shave more, your face or your genitals?

  a) Face.

  b) Genitals.

  c) Never shave either.

  d) Shave both equally and at the same time.

  1) Face and then balls.

  2) Balls and then face.

  ANSWERS

  a) +0 points. Shaving your face makes you a man but not manly.

  b) -5 points. You’re disgusting. I should have taken away 10 points.

  c) +10 points. You probably live in the hills and kill things, both of which are ultramanly. If you have some type of wild animal as a pet, such as a badger or wombat, give yourself an extra +5 points. And if you actually have a girlfriend (has to be a woman, not the badger or wombat), give yourself an additional +5.

  d) +0 points. When you’re in the shower with a razor, giving both your face and sac a “once-over” is not manly or unmanly. However, the order in which you do the shaving is very, very important. If you shave your face and then your balls, as long as you dispose of the razor afterward, give yourself +5 points. If you shave your balls and then your face, it means that you secretly like the scent of nut sac and you are not in any shape or form a real man. As a matter of fact, go ahead and give yourself-15 points.

  #3 How much does your favorite pair of jeans cost?

  a) $200 or more.

  b) Between $100 and $200.

  c) Between $50 and $100.

  d) Under 50 bucks.

  ANSWERS

  a) -15 points. Real men don’t pay that much for a washing machine or their hookers.

  b) -10 points. $150 is a brand-new chain saw.

  c) -5 points. Real men are frugal. They are cheap with their beer and food, so what the fuck makes you think they’d spend that kind of money on jeans?

  d) +10 points. Give yourself an extra +5 points if that favorite pair of jeans has an oil stain on them.

  #4 Your friends take you out to an all-you-can-eat buffet for your thirteenth birthday, and then surprise you afterward by taking you to Dollywood for a little bungee jumping. You’re just a kid, so you don’t see how bungee jumping after an all-you-can-eat buffet can go terribly wrong. You think that perhaps you might throw up, but instead you shit yourself. Remember, you’re just a kid. How do you handle the situation? Seriously, I want to know.

  a) Jump in the nearest public pool.

  b) Pretend nothing has happened and go about your day.

  c) Go to the public restroom, remove your shit-soaked boxers, and throw them in the trash can. Next, remove your socks, dampen them in the sink, and then clean up everything your boxers didn’t catch. Once you’re done, dispose of your socks. When you get home and your mother asks what happened to your socks, tell that nosy bitch to mind her own business. Afterward, go upstairs and cry yourself to sleep.

  ANSWERS

  a) +5 points. Although real men don’t drag others down when their ship sinks, they are quick problem solvers. If the pool is twenty feet from the location where you did the shitting, give yourself +5 points. However, if you walk all the way home and then jump into your neighbor’s pool, give yourself-5 points…unless your neighbor is an asshole who never invites you over to go swimming.

  b) +5 points. As I previously mentioned, real men always keep their chin up. If they have shit in their back pocket, they have shit in their back pocket. Deal with it.

  c) +0 points. The reason I didn’t give negative points for this reaction is that shitting yourself at Dollywood is a tragic experience that no child should have to go through on his thirteenth birthday. It’s absolutely terrible. Your friends constantly make fun of you, and it’s not until much later in life when you become a fighter or something of that nature that you finally begin to earn just a shred of respect back from them. I don’t care if it’s not manly—I give a pass to every thirteen-year-old who shit himself at Dollywood while bungee jumping and then had to live with the horrible repercussions for years to come.

  #5 You go on a first date with a respectable, attractive woman. How do you handle it?

  a) You pay for everything, open doors, and kiss her good night instead of trying to get into her pants.

  b) You tell her that she can order the most expensive thing on the menu and that you’re picking up the check.

  1) The most expensive thing on the menu is a $60 steak.

  2) The most expensive thing on the menu is a Big Mac.

  c) You focus on how broke you are during dinner conversation and talk her into paying the bil
l.

  d) The moment you pick her up, you ask for gas money.

  ANSWERS

  a) +10 points. New-school manliness cannot contend with old-school manliness. If you’re a gentleman like Clark Gable, you are a real man. However, if you try to fuck your date at the end of the night, you get zilch. With this one, it’s all or nothing.

  b) -5 points. Unless you’ve got old-school manliness, never offer a woman the most expensive thing on the menu. By saying nothing, you can tell what type of woman she is. If she orders the most expensive thing on her own, she is most likely out for your money. If she orders the cheapest thing on the menu, she probably lacks confidence and will be easy to bed.

  1) If you’re at a really nice restaurant where the most expensive dish costs $60 or more, you’re an even bigger douche bag. Go ahead and subtract another 15 points.