Alright, let’s talk about this fella, Jon Jones. Signed, sealed, delivered, they say. He’s back, or so they tell me. Don’t know much about this fightin’ business, but I hear tell he’s a big deal. Signed Jon Jones, that’s what they’re hollerin’ about.
Now, this Dana White fella, he’s the boss man, like the head rooster in the henhouse. He says Jon Jones, he signed a paper for eight fights. Eight! That’s a whole lotta scrapin’ and punchin’ if you ask me. Must be gettin’ paid a pretty penny, this Jones fella.
Then there’s this other fella, Richard Schaefer. He’s Jones’s… whatchamacallit… manager. Like the fella who handles the money and talks for him, I reckon. He’s probably happy too, with all them fights comin’ up.
- First Fight: This fella Bonnar, back in ’09. Jones, he wrestled him down, threw him around like a rag doll. Even gave him a good elbowin’. Got tired, though. Young fellas, always in a hurry. Still won, though. Unan-something decision, they called it. Means everybody thought he won, I guess.
- Big Fight: Jones, he says the one fight he remembers most is against some fella named Gustafsson. Must’ve been a real barn burner, that one. Don’t know Gustafsson, never seen him, never heard of him, maybe a good fella, maybe not.
Now they’re talkin’ about a big to-do, UFC 309 they call it. Gonna be in New York City, in a place called Madison Square Garden. Sounds fancy. November 16th, 2024. Mark your calendars, if you got one. I surely don’t, use the old rooster to tell time. He crows when he crows and that’s when i know its time to get this old body movin’.
This Jon Jones fella, he’s been fightin’ for a long time, it seems. Started way back when, fightin’ this Bonnar fella. Wrestled him, elbowed him, won the fight. Sounds like he was a tough one, even back then. Tough as an old boot, I’d say.
And this Gustafsson fight, the one Jones remembers. Must’ve been somethin’ special. Maybe they went toe-to-toe, punch for punch. Maybe they both got knocked down, got back up, and kept fightin’. That’s what makes a good fight, I hear. Not all this fancy footwork and grapplin’. Just good old-fashioned fisticuffs.
Now, they’re sayin’ Jones is back for eight more fights. Eight! That’s a lot of punishment for one man to take. Hope he’s got a good doctor, and a good insurance policy. Fightin’ ain’t no easy business, I tell ya. Breaks bones, bruises faces, makes a man old before his time.
And this UFC thing, it’s a whole big production, it seems. They got these press conferences, where Dana White talks and everybody listens. They got managers, like this Schaefer fella, who make deals and count the money. And they got these big arenas, like Madison Square Garden, where folks come to watch the fights.
It’s a whole different world from my world, that’s for sure. I’m used to milkin’ cows and tendin’ chickens, not watchin’ men beat each other up. But I guess it’s entertainin’ for some folks. Keeps ’em on the edge of their seats, they say. Gives ’em somethin’ to talk about.
So, Jon Jones is signed, and he’s comin’ back. Eight more fights, they promise. Gonna be a wild ride, I reckon. Hope he knows what he’s gettin’ himself into. Fightin’ ain’t for the faint of heart, I tell ya. Takes a special kind of man to step into that ring and face another man, fists flyin’. This old lady won’t watch it. Don’t like all that violence. It ain’t the good Lord’s way, I tell ya, it ain’t. Makes me want to pray, sure does.
But hey, that’s just my two cents. I’m just an old woman, what do I know about fightin’? I’ll stick to my chickens and my cows, and let them fellas do their thing. Just hope they don’t get hurt too bad. And I hope they make a good livin’ doin’ it. Everybody’s gotta make a livin’ somehow, I suppose. Even if it means punchin’ another fella in the face. Land sakes alive.
