Our story begins not too many years ago in the ancient
borough of Pontefract when a wise young man with a full head of hair decided to
organise an MMA show to try to highlight a fledgling new sport but was not
really available outside of the big smoke and certainly nothing like it around
us. Our hero and his partner had indeed frequented these things in the borough
of London and were such fun, a really good test of your all round martial
artistry.
We had introduced this style of fighting as an after
Taekwondo class activity and the guys seemed to really like it. We had no mats
and didn’t know what we were doing but it was fun and double legging someone
onto a hardwood floor just seemed so right.
Our hero approached various fighters that were prepared to
compete in this new and exciting format and was met with a lot of enthusiasm,
it all looked very promising.
The local rugby club was to be hired to showcase this event,
talks had gone well and an agreement reached, the ring had been measured and
all extra seating was sorted so a date was set. Was all set to be the first MMA
show in God’s own county of Yorkshire then everyone’s favourite 2 things got
involved; the media and the church. The countdown to destruction had begun.
First of all, a TV show named Calendar interviewed our hero
at his place of work and were thoroughly excited about the new venture, the TV
employees asked if they could have tickets to the show for a little publicity
so was agreed.
The very same evening the interview with the hero of the
piece was actually on Calendar but had been edited so it sounded a LOT
different to what had actually been said. Add to this that the TV show had
researchers up in the old town of Pontefract showing UFC 1 to old ladies who
were out shopping because it was pension day; the old ladies verily agreed that
this type of fighting was indeed barbaric and would not be going to the rugby
club to partake in the fight night.
Calendar invited noted pacifist Brendan Ingle to comment, he
was outraged that guys were actually trying to hit each other. This was around
the time that Paul Ingle was put into a coma from a beating received in a
boxing match. He received severe brain and head injuries in a 12 round title
defence. “You do know what irony is, don’t you Baldrick?” “Yes, it’s like tinny
or coppery but iron instead”
To quote a scientific formula of the time, one heavily
edited interview + one disgruntled boxing coach + countless outraged old ladies
= not looking good for yours truly.
All the offended people immediately flocked to church for a
good cleansing and upon hearing that such sorcery and brutality was due to take
place in his parish, the priest started proceedings to have our hero removed
from his parish (I swear that the local
church wanted to get me thrown out of the parish, they actually thought they
had the power to get me to move house!) At one point I swear I could see
the dim glow of torches as the flock went for their pitchforks.
The might of the church came down upon the rugby club who
then had a change of heart; they sent a letter to our hero explaining that they
would have to retract their offer as “they didn’t want rugby being associated
with a violent sport”. Seriously!
Everywhere our hero went the common people did ask of the
show and were disappointed to find out that it wouldn’t be happening just yet.
Even the wonderful serving girls of Greggs, where our hero would procure
provisions, were looking forward to a night out at the rugby club. The bad
publicity had actually attracted more people than it had detracted, I guess
they didn’t realise the mentality of the population of the mighty borough of
Pontefract. This is a town that Shakespeare wrote of in Richard III because
unfortunately King Richard II had met his fate in Pontefract; some say in the
castle, some say on a night out but never the less we celebrate regicide.
Bloody Pomfret as Shakey called it.
Alas there was nowhere else to go. The Council wouldn’t
allow sporting contests in its facilities so couldn’t get an entertainment
licence, even though I had seen Giant Haystacks wrestling at the Town Hall
previously.
And so, faithful readers, that was the end of the first
attempt to organise a legal MMA show in Pontefract. We would have to take our
new found sport underground for a while so watch out for more devilishly
entertaining tales coming to these pages.
DC
No comments:
Post a Comment