(vs. McDermott) I'm not a fighter

[BJ O'Murphy]

I am not a fighter.

For longer than I can remember these five words have defined me; been
the mantra that I live by. I grew up an O’Murphy, that meant that everything that a normal little boy might learn growing up was out the window. You want to try and explain to the other little kids in the neighborhood the reason why you can’t come play baseball with them? Yeah, ‘I have to read Tolstoy’ doesn’t exactly make you many friends around the playground. No, little Berrick Jr. had to learn to make due without childhood friends. He had to learn that adults, namely his parents, were better company than children his own age. Don’t get me wrong; I had two wonderful parents who loved me more than anything. They gave me a childhood filled with experiences that many children would never have. But there was just that one singular phrase that kept coming up time after time throughout my youth.

I am not a fighter.

When you’re skinny, artsy, have a vocabulary well beyond your years and your dad looks like a blue haired Count Dracula you tend to find yourself on the defensive a lot. Needless to say there wasn’t much I could do physically except hope they knocked themselves out laughing as I flailed my arms like a windmill. No, my physical presence in a fight was certainly not something to reflect on with fond memories. But while the bruises and scars fade over time, the mental strain does not … and that’s where dear ol’ dad stepped in.

”Son, it’s time that I taught you the art of words.”

Thus began my tutelage in the mystical art of talking your way out of anything. The old adage about the pen being mightier than the sword holds true, but the spoken word holds even more weight than the written one. But, alas, try as he could my father wasn’t able to keep me out of trouble. Even to this day, each time I stand in the doorway of a sweaty, smoke filled room with my hands bound in tape and my face bruised and swollen I think back to those five words and what they meant to me growing up. I am not a fighter … no, I’m not a fighter …

I’m a survivor!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tytus: Are you sure that you are ready for this?

His voice was deep and gravely, even to this day as a thirty year old man he felt the goose bumps on his arms when he stood next to the man. Truth me told, Tytus Rost had been more than simply a trainer to him over the years. His father had never been thrilled about his desire to learn the art of fighting but did nothing to dissuade him. To the contrary he had demanded that if his son were to lower himself down to the level of an animal he best learn from the most violent and dangerous animal he knew.

“The Russian Lion” Tytus Rost

Uncle Tytus had always been around growing up but when he began training with him in his Lions Den dojo their new roles were defined immediately. BJ still shudders when he thinks back on what he calls ‘Day One’.

Tytus: Do not fool yourself into thinking that I will go easy on you because of our relationship. Your father expressed your desire to become like me … you will learn more than fighting in my dojo young BJ … you will learn to be a man, be a machine … you will learn to be a God.

Within thirty seconds of what Tytus called ‘show me what you can do’ BJ was on his back, curled up in the fetal position and clutching his left arm against his stomach; his wrist was broken … his elbow dislocated. All the air had been expelled from his lungs as he lay there wondering if he’d ever breathe again. He was in a cast for weeks, but that didn’t stop his desire. Tytus liked that … perhaps to much. He went from the doctors straight to the dojo on the afternoon that his cast was removed. His arm was weak in dire need of physical therapy; but this Berrick O’Murphy wanted none of that.

Tytus: What say I teach you how to NOT have that happen again.

It’s been years since that day but it still brings a chill up his spine when he wonders about whether or not the accident on day one had been just that, an accident. It had made him tougher, more determined and took that fear that every fighter feels and gave it focus. Most fighters fear getting hurt … what will it feel like? BJ knew now and while he still feared the injury, he didn’t fear the uncertainty behind it. He wasn’t a man without fear … he was a man who focused that fear into survival.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

”McDermott, it looks like you and I have the honor of kicking things off in a big way here in EFC. Inaugural show, opening fight on the card, two unknown fighters … we have the capabilities to showcase why they decided to slap the “Elite” onto the company name.

To be quite honest with you I’m not even sure what I’m getting myself into here but I’m excited as hell to step into that octagon and mix it up. I’m untested, unfettered and uninterested in anything other than victory. I don’t know how many fights you have under your belt but I can count my professional bouts on one hand … with no fingers. Yeah, that’s right baby … while I cut my teeth in the underground fight clubs this will be my first sanctioned match. It’s time for me to step out there and show the world that the O’Murphy’s are more than just talk. The O’Murphy’s are more than just skinny little manipulators. The O’Murphy’s are more than just joke fodder. My father paved the way for me to become the most educated and brilliant man to step into the ring. I was trained by a man who forged me in the fires of pain and suffering to be unstoppable. I will refuse to quit, refuse to submit, and refuse to relent. I am the epitome of elegant violence and I’ll be dammed if I don’t walk out of that ring with my arms held high. Train your heart out, say your prayers, bring your best … it won’t matter in the end. I’m going to snap your leg, dislocate your shoulder, choke you out … care to differ? Then prove it, McDermott. Who am I?

I’m BJ O’Murphy … Oh HELL Yeah!"

[Irish Thunder]

We see Liam McDermott sitting on a chair in his Texas Suite. He is reminiscing about his career up to this point. His training and his studies have all led up to this. He thinks back to the first time he stepped into the hexagon. He remembers clearly the butterflies in his stomach and the things shooting through his mind. He remembers the feel of punching another man for the first time. The win, although meaningless, was exhilarating.

“You’ve come along way”

Four thousand miles. I was born in Ireland but I grew up in the gym in San Paolo. I learned how to defend myself. Yes that was the major part of it. The ring of battle doesn’t forgive. That cage remembers what you did the last time, it constantly reminds you of all your errors. You have to go in their composed and only one thing on your mind. “He will tap”. You cannot allow your mind to drift.

“The first time around”

My first time being paid for my trade, it will be good. Inside I cannot wait any longer. Years of training all come down to this. One moment in the sun. My fifteen minutes of fame is now. Thousands will watch. The fear of embarrassment is non-existent. That doesn’t live within me. I know my boundaries and I know exactly what I am capable of. I know the pain I can exert and have been through all of these moves myself many times. Most would say that some of my skills are lacking, the others will make up for that. I am ready

“Time to stop Talking and start working, talk is cheap”

The time is now. Twenty years of my work will be put to the test. I do not fear though. Like I said before I know what I am doing. I know what to expect. No large crowd or heckler will take me off my game.. I know what I have to do to win. That is the bottom line. The Elite Fight Club cannot handle what I have to offer because fear doesn’t live here. I am confident without being overly so.

Sam bursts into the room. She has a few bags from shopping.

Sam: What’s going on Babe?

Liam: Just doing some thinking, that’s all.

Sam: Not another one of your over thinking sessions I hope.

Liam: I am just thinking about how far I came to get to this point. How much hard work, sweat and tears went into all of this. This is where I get to show all the work I’ve done. This is where I show how good I am.

Sam: You are going to be awesome Liam!

Liam: I am not second guessing my decision to do this. I have a tom of confidence. I just have to do what I have been taught.

Sam: Good. You will be the best. I know that anything you set you mind to you do.

Liam: Sam, I didn’t come here to kiss other people’s feet I came to win. That’s what I will do. There’s nothing more to be said really.

Sam: Okay. You sound like that American football coach everyone is talking about, Rex Ryan.

Liam: It’s the damned truth. I came here with all my skills to win gold. That is what I intend on doing Sam. I will except nothing less of myself. I will not let me or you, for that matter, down. I came here to show what an Irish man on a mission can do. This is my mission.

Sam: First up for you is BJ O’Murphy.

Liam: Let’s go get something to eat.

Sam: Okay, I'm hungry.
A short while later.

The scene continues with Liam and Sam sitting in a Texas Steakhouse. Drawn to this place by The Guinness they offer and the hunger the two of them felt. The two of them sit laughing waiting for their food and drinks.

Liam: My first time to the United States and looks as if years of training may have paid off this week I have BJ O’Murphy in my first match on American soil. What do you think Babe?

Sam: It’s great. I always wanted to see the US. Although I wouldn’t have come to Texas first. Still glad to be here to support my Man. It’s all good.

Liam: Texas isn’t so bad. The people of this state seem nice enough.

The waitress walks over with the drinks. She hands Sam her Budweiser.

Liam: Budweiser?

Sam: Wanted to try some American beer.

Liam: Okay. That is piss water though.

The waitress places Liam’s Guinness on the table. He immediately notices something’s not right.

The pint of Guinness has a four inch head on it!

Liam: Ma’am, I didn’t order half a pint?

Waitress: I’m sorry what’s wrong.

Liam: This pint is all head no beer. You have to pour half and let it sit until the head goes down. Then, and only then you can pour the rest. This will be like drinking air.

Waitress: I’m sorry I will take it back.

Liam: Thanks.

A male waiter comes over with their food. He puts the Rib eye steak in front of Sam her eyes open wide as she is happy with her meal. The waiter puts a large Prime Rib. He smiles. The two begin to eat happily. Liam sucks down his Guinness fairly quickly and holds his glass up until the waitress brings back a full glass of the delectable Irish brew. Soon they finish eating as Liam excuses himself from the table and walks out into the Texas air. He takes a deep breathe and begins to speak.

This week I step into the EFC ring for the first time. This guy Jim McQuin. He hired me, I will not say too much in a bad way. For my first match gives me a guy with the acronym BJ. I am looking forward to getting in there and getting my feet wet here. When I think of BJ though…only one thing drifts through my mind. Blow Job….it makes me chuckle. O’Murphy, I don’t know you and you don’t know me. This will be monumental for both of us. I learned very early on never to take any man for granted. I won’t. I am prepared to get in there with you and mix it up. Take all you have and then some. I have trained too hard to not take this with extreme caution and extremely seriously. This is it.

Let’s get it on![/b]