Humor, marriage, love, MMA

The Time I Entered Hubby In An MMA Match As A Joke

Because I Was Angry At Him

Unfortunately, Lucy’s plan backfired, as usual.

The year was 1998.

We had recently moved 200 miles south of Chicago to the outskirts of Springfield, Illinois because my husband was offered a good job.

So, I spent my days at home with our 4 & 5-year-old. Our house was in the middle of nowhere, 3 miles from the main road, in a Stephen King novel-type setting. It was in the woods, on a hill overlooking the river.

He worked long, 3rd shift hours. I was always alone, overnight, and I barely slept. So we argued a lot.

One day, we were driving along in the car, arguing, when a commercial came on the car radio, “Mighty Man Competition at the State Fair Grounds, Cash Prizes….”

He was saying how he should enter.

How I had no idea what a badass he was.

I started laughing way too hard, and said, “That’s EXACTLY what I wish for too.”

He said “What?”

I said, “For you to GET YOUR ASS KICKED.”

He’s like, “Yeah? They better pack a lunch!”

From then on, every time I heard that commercial come on the radio or TV, I’d picture him in a boxing ring, and it made me smile. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love him to death, I didn’t want to see him hurt, maybe just knocked down a few steps. I was thinking, I bet if he was in the boxing ring with real fighters that would teach him a lesson, he’s 33, and he just THINKS he’s still a tough guy.

I had heard all the stories from him and his friends about when they were younger, growing up in the streets of Chicago.

He definitely could take care of himself, and his friends if need be. They told me he knew how to knock guys out with 1 punch. He called it their “button”, between the cheek and the chin.

But we didn’t start dating until I was 22 and he was 23 so I had never actually seen him fight, never wanted to, and only 1/2 believed their stories.

I was enjoying the Mighty Man commercials WAY too much. Then I THOUGHT I had a great idea. I’ll get my point across to him through humor. Me and my practical jokes. But he deserved it.

So, I SIGNED HIM UP FOR THE MIGHTY MAN COMPETITION AT THE ILLINOIS STATE FAIRGROUNDS IN SPRINGFIELD, IL.

(WITHOUT TELLING HIM ABOUT IT.)

I thought, BOY, AM I GOING TO CALL HIS BLUFF!

I laughed the rest of the afternoon while I did my housework just thinking about the scared look I would see on his face for once.

I couldn’t WAIT to tell him.

I thought he’d look nervous.

I thought he’d say he had plans that weekend, LOL.

When he got home from work, and we started arguing, I said, “Hey, remember how you said you’re bad enough to kick ass in the Mighty Man Competition? Well, guess what, I signed you up today! I guess now we’re going to see how tough you are!”

I was waiting for him to look scared, instead, a smile came across his face. I realized he was TRULY happy, and excited. He couldn’t wait to call the guy back!

He told the event guy he didn’t have a ring name. The guy asked what our last name was. He told him, and the guy said, “OK, then your ring name will be…”,

BAD NEWS BENYAMIN

He then called my sister’s husband Pat. He asked Pat to be in his corner Friday night. They were laughing, joking, so friggin excited, like little kids. Pat came running right over. They went and bought the mouthguard, etc., and stayed up drinking, talking about it, planning his technique, like it was going to be the damn world championship match!

NO FAIR!!! I couldn’t stand it. My plan had backfired.

Lucy, what have you done!!!!

The other fighters were 18–23. He was 33. He was going to be the OLDEST GUY IN THE COMPETITION BY 10 YEARS. I was still sure he’d be taught a lesson.

FRIDAY NIGHT: We joked around before he left and I said, “OK, I’LL SEE THE REAL YOU WHEN YOU GET HOME TONIGHT, I’VE MISSED HIM. BUT YOU? YOU MR. TOUGH GUY, I HOPE YOU GET YOUR ASS KICKED.”

I thought, I’ll wait for him to come home, with his tail between his legs. I’ll bandage him up, put ice on his wounds, nurse him back to health, tell him I’m glad he learned his lesson, and I still love him, etc.

So late that night I heard several cars pull into my driveway. I heard laughing, cheering, etc. And I thought, UT OHH.

I think, OK, damn it, I guess he won his fight but maybe he’s got a black eye, fat lip, blood dripping, SOMETHING. So, I come downstairs, and he opens a beer bottle using the counter, all cool-like, and just looks at me, smiling. I searched his face for a bump, bruise, blood, or anything. BUT THERE WAS NOTHING.

He was tired and relaxed. The fight did help. He was on cloud #9. He gave me a big kiss and said he wished I had seen him. Getting in a fight DID mellow him, he was calling me sweetie and babe again. It must have released some endorphins or something.

He told me 1 MINUTE INTO THE SECOND ROUND, HE BROKE THE GUYS NOSE AND KNOCKED HIM OUT. It was the ONLY knockout of the entire night. He tells me he’s fighting in the Finals tomorrow night.

I WANTED TO BE ANGRY.

BUT FOR SOME STRANGE REASON, I WAS SUDDENLY VERY ATTRACTED TO HIM.

My plan had backfired, again.

DAMN IT LUCY!

SATURDAY NIGHT: So, I got a babysitter for Saturday night and went with him to the Finals. It was at the State Fair Grounds, it was huge, with hundreds of people in the stands.

There was mutual respect that night among the winning fighters walking around before their fights, talking to each other about last night’s fights. They all said to him things like:

“Great fight last night man!”,

“Hey, you’re Bad News, right?”,

“Hey, this is the guy that had the knockout last night!”

Right then I stopped wanting him to get his ass kicked.

I was so proud he was MY husband. I was trying to hold his hand, arm, shirt, pants, ANYTHING, looking at all the ring girls like, yeah, that’s right, you BETTER keep walking, I’M with him, this is MY MAN. I’M MRS. BAD NEWS, STAY BACK!

When it was his turn to fight they said, “Introducing in this corner, BAD NEWS, BENYAMINNNN” and the crowds in the stands started cheering. I was like, “That’s right, that’s MY MAN!!!”

He looked right at me and blew me a kiss and I felt like I was at a rock concert, and he was the musician on stage you wanted to throw your clothes at. AND HE WAS BLOWING A KISS TO ME!!!

So, he fought. It went all 3 rounds. There were a lot of good punches from both of them, and it was hard to call. I thought he had won, he delivered some brutal body shots.

Then they announced the other guy won in points. The winner was supposed to go sit down and fight later. Instead, the “winner” went up to the announcer after the fight and said he was hurt badly, he was having trouble breathing and he couldn’t go on. Even though my husband lost the fight, he had broken the guy’s ribs. Of course, I felt bad seeing anyone hurt, even a boxer who went in the ring to fight against someone I love.

At the end of the night my husband, at 33, and at least 10 years older than everyone else, was given a Mighty Man Finalist trophy that sits in our China cabinet today.

Because that’s what happens when Lucy tries to play a joke, ladies and gentlemen. It backfires like Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. I’ve had to look at and listen about that fucking trophy for decades now and who the joke was on…me.

We also have the fights on tape, but it was 1998, so they’re on VHS tapes so I can’t post it.

Thank God they’re on VHS tapes or else every time someone came over they would have accidentally found their way into the VCR like they did the first few years.

But I was impressed that weekend watching him hold his head high as one of the champions in a stadium full of people. I thought I knew everything about him until that weekend. He still had some tricks up his sleeve. And I couldn’t wait to cook his favorite meal and congratulate him properly later that night 😂.

It’s not easy being a smoker, 33 years old, and fighting hard 2 nights in a row. But he did it. Do you know why? Because he’s Bad News, Benyamin, that’s why, forever in my book.

Signed,

Mrs. Bad News Benyamin.

Forever & Always.