The epitome of a martial artist, he enter the arena. High cheekbones
underline challenging eyes, daring any man who would test his mettle.
Gifted physically and mentally, he approaches the ring, every step
deliberate yet smooth. The agility and the confidence, every muscle
efficient and trained. Graceful as a dancer, Anderson Silva enters the
cage, his Octagon, the web of the Spider.
And here is where the
artist goes to work. Each jab and kick the stroke of a brush, trained
at the Chute Boxe Academy. Swift and smooth as bullets they fly,
perfected over countless hours of training, his strikes find their
marks with unparalleled consistency. Long limbs and flawless technique
make him impossible to out strike. Ask iron-jawed, hammer-fisted Dan
Henderson.
But to call Silva a striker would be to designate
Leonardo da Vinci a mere painter, for inside with the Spider, it only
gets worse. His guard is an impossible web, entangled by a black belt
in Brazilian Jujitsu bestowed upon him by the Minotauro himself. With a
long torso for his height, even at 6'2'', side control is a mile away
for opposing middleweights, ground and pound a frivolous dream. No
battle can be won when the goal is a stalemate, yet on the mat with
Silva, there is little hope of victory. Rich Franklin learned this.
Twice.
Franklin was lucky, however, for he got to lose on the
ground. It is on the feet, in close, where even God abandons those who
stand against Silva. The clinch of the Spider is the omega, an event
horizon from which nothing escapes. It is where razor blade elbows and
sledgehammer knees fall without mercy, cutting, battering, and breaking
both the body and the will.
A Renaissance man, this artist works
with every medium of mixed martial arts, and each masterpiece is unique
unto itself. Regardless of how it begins, the end is always the same:
hands held high, a shining belt around his waste, and the blood of his
adversary staining the mat. Oil on canvas. In the web of the Spider.
Send Message
Add Friend