GINGERMAN's blog

A camera captures images. But, from what I can say, is that pictures capture a lot more. And, these include what we see encircled above on the first page of Meet Fighters. Lots of pictures are in fact capturing members. Some of those are on the prowl for...well, ostensibly opponents. Now, let's pursue that activity and its purpose in more depth.

I put the question to you, reader, is this your chief motivation, to find someone who is worthy of engaging you in a match? Of course, in framing this inquiry, you may assume I may be somewhat skeptical should you answer, especially unhesitatingly answer, yes. And, believe me, you would be right.

Again, reader, I put another question to you; what is it you are looking for? Could it be a dazzling smile and a clear complexion as revealed in a portrait like photo? Or, perhaps might you be casting your gaze to a lower direction, to the body of a man with a fetching forest of follicles; one that is set off in a most appealing distribution, from the chest to even what is just below the umbilicus; complete with a distinct linear happy trail even? Or, is it the well cut definition of his musculature, from his traps to his six pack that is the main draw of your attention?

For those who will feel the need to leave a comment regarding this blog, I am sure there will be a variety of answers to the above. I will leave it to others to conclude whether these comments are honest, complete, and truly revealing. They even might be, you know.

But, reader, please allow me to return to the objects that festoon Meet Fighters' Page One. How much do you need to see to satisfy your curiosity? Do those you contact in the feeling out process balk at your request for more pictures? Do they seem to be hiding something if they do? Or, at the other extreme, is there a frenetic response to provide more photos, and if so, what might you conclude from this behavior, perhaps a certain touch of exhibitionism? There are a few who certainly qualify for this trait.

You know that the photos one sees on someone's profile page may well have been deemed avatar quality; and, that assessment as you should know has been made by a committee. Those photos that didn't reach that high bar of acceptance may be displayed elsewhere, and some of them have even been designated “soft porn.” You needn't tell us, reader, but which do you prefer?

Whatever you arrive at from the photos you employ in selecting the person whom you wish to take on in a match, I would caution you to remember that line from HMS Pinafore: “Things are seldom what they seem; skim milk masquerades as cream...”

How does it begin; let's see. It's that time of year when... But you know the next few words, don't you? But, the world hasn't and it isn't likely to either. Hmmm, let me see. What is it I am supposed to be about?

I am a member of a group of men, and a few women, whose chief interest is engaging in some form of martial art, whether it be wrestling, boxing, judo, Muay Thai, etc. In short, fighting. It would be a real stretch to think that this is about anything but involvement in aggressive acts for the satisfaction of dominating or being dominated by an opponent. Gosh, I am one of those, aren't I? Well, I guess I should be at it; time is after all awasting.

So, what, I repeat, am I about at this time now? Give me a break! Am I supposed to throw “engines in reverse and go at flank speed” as the Captain of the Ship? My ship, that is? And, do what? Oh, yes, they want me to now reach out in genuine friendship, embrace the world in love. Hmmm. Seems to be that what they expect me to do cast aside for a brief period of time---that is, suspend reality, and actually put on a some sort of smilng face that will warm the stranger as I approach him, and strive to promote peace and goodwill.

I am sorry, Ebenezer Scrooge had it right, “Humbug!” Besides, the Bard instructed us in the right: “To thine own self be true.” So, I am not going to suddenly be the very antithesis of what I am, a fighter. Were I to be, to do differently, would be a sham, wouldn't it? It is winter; it is cold outside; and, the only really merry folks are those who look to the spending and the feasting of those taken in by this season's promotions. It's the businesses and the multi-national corporations that seek to profit from such nonsense.

And, yet, there are those somewhat haunting words of the poet, Thomas Hardy,, in his poem, The Oxen. Are you familiar with it? Allow me to quote it.

Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
     "Now they are all on their knees,"
An elder said as we sat in a flock
     By the embers in hearthside ease.

We pictured the meek mild creatures where
     They dwelt in their strawy pen,
Nor did it occur to one of us there
     To doubt they were kneeling then.

So fair a fancy few would weave
     In these years! Yet, I feel,
If someone said on Christmas Eve,
     "Come; see the oxen kneel,

In the lonely barton by yonder coomb
     Our childhood used to know,"
I should go with him in the gloom,
     Hoping it might be so.

Oh, what the... Okay, I'll pretend, and who knows? Besides what harm is there in it?
After all, what have I lost? So, what do you say? Will you join me in this what some would call a fool's errand?

We fight. We seek to win. We take our time as with every move, every repositioning we seek to control. That is the conduct of a warrior. Finally, we achieve what we are working toward; submission. From the one who has tried to match the moves and the change of positions, but who as each moment passes becomes frustrated, whose breathing becomes more labored, whose limbs begin to give way to the superior strength acting upon them, a realization begins to set in: submission is becoming inevitable. In his mind, he is now fighting an additional battle wherein the thought begins to take hold and after a while, the tap comes. The stronger must be reassured, and he tells his foe, “Say I! Say submit! And, the beaten man says it, and he ceases all effort to fight back.

This is the scene we know. This is the moment that causes a surge in ones being. Victory. But, no, really it is much more than that. It is an assertion of self, of ones manhood. It is this that we seek as we step into the ring, on to the mat. It is a priceless reward that cannot be given but must be earned. And, at that very moment it is in our hand, and in our head, and in our sweating, muscle tried body. Can anything match it? I think not. It is even more significant to our being than the culmination that comes in coitus. But...

Is there ever more? Can the purity of the pugilist knocking out his opponent? Is there any more untainted moment than that of the wrestler who brings his opponent to a state of immobility that is accompanied by unbearable pain?

It is ironic that Charles Dickens, who had a relatively easy childhood, took it upon himself to describe the world of the street urchin, and whose main character was Oliver Twist. And, in that novel, he writes a scene is which Oliver approaches a figure of stern, uncaring nature, with his now empty dish whose contents had been a watery gruel, and asks, “Please, sir, can I have some more?”

The history of the American Federation of Labor is the story of the persistence in negotiating by one singular unionist, Samuel Gompers. There is a story of him bargaining from less than the strongest position with management of a major corporation. Hours had gone by. The room was without air conditioning and was filled with the smoke of cigars burning down to almost their well chewed end. Finally, the chief management guy, throws his hands up in disgust, and says, “Just what is it you want?” And, with one word, Gompers answered: “More!”

It is an common thing among men. Some call it greed. Others label it selfishness. And, there are fighters who come under that banner. Unfortunately. And, so when a tap is given, when a submission is called out, they don't relinquish their hold.

I suggest that this is a corruption of sport; this tarnishes the victory; this reduces the fighter to being less of a man.