Well, the
Glorious Sweater of Absolute Victory isn't why the MMA world will soon have its salvation; more to the point Sanchez and myself are looking to get certified in Illinois as MMA judges. Where does it say only Cecil Peoples can have all the fun?!
Soon we will be judging leg kicks, armbars, heel-hooks, and superman punches! Awesomeness will ensue as we hand down judgment upon those whose matches end in decision, as the heavens open and holy light streams down upon the upturned faces of combatants in the ring, tears streaming copiously in both joy and shame as we announce our 30-27 victory, by decision to the fighter who landed more damaging blows, controlled the ground game the best, and displayed octagon control.
Buxom ring girls will throw handfuls of daisy petals into the air and we will be lifted in palanquins, high above the crowd, the roar of the masses building to an oceanic crescendo, as the faultless, nay, infallible scoring reaffirms the justice of our decision in the hearts and minds of all who bore witness to the gospel of 10-9, 10-9, 10-9, in a three round technical slugfest. The only downside being fighters wishing to drag fights out for all three rounds, five in the case of championship matches for the belt, in order to have our glorious judgment passed upon them, Sanchez's Cerberus to my Anubis, our judgment leading into the light, or the darkness of the warriors post-fight afterlife, party at the Crowbar, admission limited to the first fifty, with prepaid ticket. There are no drink specials in the next world my friend.
All will culminate in an apocalyptic judging decision, in which Sanchez and myself, through our divinely inspired scoring, finally overcome the appalling judging of Cecil Peoples and, via split decision, award the victory to the rightful winner in a technical decision fight in the UFC's first Open Weight Grand Prix.
Consider yourself warned.