Wednesday, January 02, 2008

Living With Luke: MMA Agent Ken Pavia Journals His Two Weeks with UFC Fighter Luke Cummo




Originally Posted by Ken Pavia on MMAjunkie.com

Although some would say my life is a vacation, I haven’t had a break in over a year. The thought of lying on a beach for a week sounds great for about a day or two. Golf takes too long. Spas are fun, but you can pretty much do everything in about a day. Plus, I love to work and have a serious addiction to my phone.

So, after much contemplation I decided to take a “working” vacation and do something for myself. I accepted an Internet offer from UFC fighter and “The Ultimate Fighter” alumnus Luke Cummo to do a 14-day health live-in training camp in Long Island, N.Y. (OK, I actually only have 12 days). The crux of the experience is to eat his “life food” diet and transform my body. Now, I have a six pack; it’s just been buried under a keg over the past year or so. So with phone glued to face and laptop in hand, the adventure begins.

Day 1: I arrive at 8:30 a.m. in JFK — pissed. My clients went 0-4 this weekend, including 0-1 in the UFC. I flew a red eye, in a middle seat, next to an 80-year-old lady who didn’t speak English and vomited all over herself in the first half hour. I couldn’t sleep because of the prevailing waif of cheddar cheese. Now the bags are “delayed” and these neurotic New Yorkers are acting like their first born was sacrificed. It’s luggage, guys. Chill. Did I mention it is frickin’ cold and wet here?

Luke picks me up, and we start right away. He hands me a hot “tea” in a jar and directs me to drink. Now, we have all heard the rumors about him drinking urine, but I am down for the cause — short of urine. The tea was actually very good, and I am told it is to hydrate my blood and begin the process. We went back to his triplex and proceeded to choke down earthy-tasting herbs, wrap castor-oil packs with cellophane and hot water bottles around our bodies, and then drink vinegar with more herbs and lemon. I was told in a few days this would flush countless stones out of my gall bladder, and that sounded kind of cool.

We did a little food prep, made Brazil nut milk (which got me high), I took a nap, did “before” pictures, and we headed into the city. It was there that Luke introduced me to the Mecca for his diet: Jubb’s Longevity. It is a Manhattan health-food deli that prepares countless “foods.” The diet, in a nutshell, calls for no animal products, nothing cooked, no rice, no grain, and no beans. I was thinking the same thing: what the hell are we supposed to eat? It has an ethnic influence — not sure which ethnicity — and lots of taste for sure. There is a lot of stuff done with nuts and seeds.

The day ended with a trip to a Turkish bathhouse (hey, don’t knock it until you have tried it). It had a Russian heat room, aroma wet steam, redwood dry heat, ice-cold plunges, etc. Everything you could want at a high-end spa sans the hot girls — did I mention I was in New York? All fighters should train like this. Oh, and I have to slip this in: I tipped the scales at a lofty 197, pictures to follow. It had to be at least 10 lbs. of water retention! The goal is 180 and some abs in 13 days.

Tomorrow we are off to Matt Serra’s gym for jits in the a.m. and Ray Longo’s for kickboxing at night.

Day 2

Lord, take me now.

I bravely said I am not worried about taste — bravely but foolishly. I didn’t realize I would have to consume what amounted to three to four kinds of dirt like three times a day. I had to talk Luke into getting some stronger-tasting fruit to chase them. He tells me that you can’t take them in pill form because they have to mix with saliva to be introduced into your system as friendly. I bought it. This whole process is a science. Whenever I ask Luke why or what, there is a very calculated, intellectual response that makes sense. He can tell you exactly why something is being consumed and what the target purpose is.

Let’s dispel a myth right now. Dude is really not that weird. He is very logical, contemplative and intelligent. You knew this guy in school. He was the one who could have gotten straight A’s but didn’t because he was bored — and in the meantime aced all standardized tests. To his credit he has an intangible that is a critical element in the success of a fighter: a willingness to sacrifice. Sometimes the most moronic statements are purely brilliant. When Dana White said, “Do you want to be a f@#*ing fighter?” he really said so much more. Luke wants to be a fighter and sacrifices. Dude does drink his own urine, so I guess I retract that dispelling a myth thing.

We went to Matt Serra’s Jiu Jitsu in the morning. It is a small room with mats only and changing rooms downstairs. No glitz, no glitter, and very small. People clearly go there for the instruction, and it was a friendly room. Matt wasn’t there, but I met his dad. Luke and I rolled a little and worked up a sweat. He then rolled with a couple guys who knew what they were doing. We stopped at Whole Foods, and I began to pound the phones and return calls. Even on this New Year’s Eve holiday, my phone is blowing up.

At night we went to Ray Longo’s gym where Luke teaches. If Rocky from “Rocky 1” lived on Long Island, he would train here. Much like Serra’s, it is all business. It has a cage, a ring, about six bags, and some various equipment in a warehouse. Because it was like 8 p.m. on New Year’s Eve, there were only like four people there. George Sotiropoulos was training, and I think he was a bit surprised to see me. He called me after shooting the “The Ultimate Fighter” show about representing him, but we haven’t come to terms. Ray, who I met at John McCarthy’s retirement party, broke my balls a little, and Luke put me through the ringers.

We went back to Luke’s house and both worked our computers. At 12:04 I reached up and pounded him and said, “Happy New Year, bro.“

The day in summary was training with moderate intensity, like six dumps — solid too. Luke and Lara are great hosts. Zack is three months old and we have something in common: he seems to have a breast fetish too. So far so good, and believe it or not, I am at 191 lbs.

Day 3

OK, today sucked — unless you like spending the day running to the can passing your lower intestines. Then it was great. It is safe to say these mystery powders work. Still solid.

I really didn’t get much sleep. First the text messages started with all the Happy New Year messages. Then a couple of drunken emotional fighters called to say thanks. Then at like 4 a.m. I got a call from Finland for a fighter for March — good thing homie researched the time difference. Finally at like 5 a.m. I got a drama call when a fighter’s girlfriend got jumped outside a club in Cali. All peace was restored, and I got a few hours to rest.

Luke fed me a veritable feast for dinner last night. Two kinds of rice-less “sushi,” Alfredo lasagna (no pasta, nondairy, not cooked), and some other variable treats. Needless to say, they were looking for a fast track exit this morning. Despite all the food, I was 190 lbs. today. That is seven pounds in three days. Wow.

I gave the office a half day, but I worked bells. I know UFC matchmaker Joe Silva is doing the next five cards in the next few days, so I am jockeying for position. We have a unique relationship. We both know it all, are both company men through and through, we rarely agree, and we both are never wrong. Actually, I am the only one who is never wrong, but I am sure he would disagree. It makes for some fun negotiations, and quite frankly, I rather enjoy the heated debates. Ultimately I can count on the fact that he will be honest with me and is pretty rational. So the next few days are very important to Jake O’Brien, Chris Lytle, Anthony Johnson, Justin McCully, Johnathan Goulet, Ivan Salaverry, Ritchie Hightower and Jordan Radev. Those are my Zuffa guys who don’t have fights inked. I am also pushing hard for up-and-comers like Johnny Rees and Josh Hendricks. Of course Luke is on pins and needles, as well. He is training and eating as if he has a fight, but he hasn’t gotten the official word.

Between UFC prep and fighter phone calls, working two Showtime fight deals, a Finland deal, an Australian deal, following up with The Palace fights, and the huge WCO card on Jan. 12 in San Diego — all of which require numerous fighter correspondence — I had a full day. We did make it back to Ray’s gym at night and saw George again. Luke and I stretched and trained.

The food today was electrolyte lemonade a couple of times, some apple-cider-vinegar drinks, a couple of smoothies, and an Irish sea-moss parfait for dinner. Of course I choked down the dirt and did the castor packs, as well. I’m kind of screwed, though. Before I left on the trip, I packaged up all my supplements in pill dispensers. It was 11 at night and I was getting sore from training, so I took three glucosamine pills with MSM. I was lying in bed cracked out of my gourd thinking about how much energy this diet was giving me when I realized those pills were Hydroxycut. Needless to say I watched the sun come up. Tomorrow we go back into the city, and Thursday is flush day. Cant wait.

Day 4

You can say 10 degrees, but those words have no meaning unless the wind chill hits you in the face and runs right through the TapouT hoodie and into your bones. Layers or long johns, Pav — learn it. Plus, I shed an extra layer of insulation as the scale told me 189 lbs. this morning. That is 8 lbs. in four days with nine more days to go.

I spent a ton of time today working on the logistics of my fighters’ participation in the big WCO card in San Diego. I am arriving back in Cali the day of the weigh-ins, and this is going to be an awesome event. OK, I am a little biased as I have seven guys on the card. I also bugged the producers of “The Ultimate Fighter” as I have four guys in the final consideration for next season, and we are day-to-day on whether they are getting on. I also text-messaged Showtime back and forth a few times as we are negotiating for a televised fight on their January “ShoXC” card. This could be a big opportunity for one of my younger guys.

Finally, I came to an agreement to be the in-studio guest on “Inside MMA” on HDNet for a third time (one more than Josh Barnett). We film the Wednesday after I get back, and it airs a number of times starting the following Friday, Jan. 18. They really have a great staff over there, and it is professionally run — from my buddy Ron Kruk on the road to Hank Siegal, Jerry Cole, and Kevin Watters in-studio and of course Kenny and Bas on set. The trip is almost worthwhile in and of itself for the shy makeup artist who does wonders.

In the big news today MMA Agents signed Aaron Riley, who is a UFC, PRIDE, BodogFight and IFL vet. We are very proud to add him to the team and look for big things from him in 2008.

Heath Herring and I have something in common. We are not gay. If you don’t get that joke, ask a Japanese MMA fan. In fact I am self-admittedly a touch homophobic. So we are back at the Turkish bathhouse in Manhattan tonight, and I am in the Russian Radiant Heat Room. The steam is so thick you can cut it with a knife. All the a sudden, a male voice next to me says, “Excuse me, would you like to sit next to me?“

I am a little moody because I have lived on seeds and nuts for four days now, and again, there’s that little homophobic thing. I spin around ready to throw. My God, even I cringe at the thought of The Pav in a loin cloth throwing down in a bathhouse steam room. As I turn to engage, I do a double-take. Lo and behold, it is Benji “The Razor” Radach. The irony is that it’s Benji who just fought in the IFL Grand Prix Finals on Saturday, and I have been text-messaging him for two weeks working on adding him to the roster. He even texted me from his locker room Saturday night. He is from Ft. Lauderdale, I am from Huntington Beach, and we bump into each other, figuratively, in a bathhouse in New York City. Well, at least he didn’t offer to push in my stool.

Some background on our relationship. I met The Razor in Costa Rica at a BodogFight event. It was there that I learned the guy does everything on 12 — train, fight, and party. As a side note, I will always refer to him as The Razor because I already have a Razor in the stable: my road dawg, “Razor” Rob McCullough. I have a lot of admiration for The Razor as he had a very successful career interrupted by injury and has been on a tear in the year of his comeback. People whose opinions I really respect — like Jeff Sherwood, Phil Baroni and Joe Silva — speak very highly of him and his potential. This year I signed Dennis “Superman” Hallman (the other guy with two wins over Matt Hughes), and The Razor cornered him in Strikeforce. We hit it off, and he approached me about representing him. We have had active dialogue since, and here he is in the bathhouse. What are the odds? We hung out in the aromatherapy room, Turkish steam room, and talked shop for a while — as many heterosexual males would do. His ear is a black frickin’ mess. Apparently the outer ear had filled with fluid before the fight, and then during the Horowich fight, it “popped.” Benji went into graphic detail of the draining process and the stitches through the cartilage without a numbing agent. He split with his buddy to get some sushi, and I slipped into a daydream about sushi as I went to Jubb’s Longevity and ate some more seeds and nuts and stuff.

Luke often hands me glasses of “milk” that are really liquefied Brazil nuts, strained, with seasoning. He was physically ill from his flush today and was chugging the milk at an alarming rate at the deli. My flush is tomorrow; I am less excited. I had a little milk, then ate a spicy cilantro soup with some dehydrated flaxseed chips. Not bad. I was full, but Luke asked if I wanted dessert. Before waiting for the answer, he handed me carob milk, which was actually really good.

Day 5

Today was the worst by far.

So when I woke up this morning, there was a note on my computer. It said drink the dirt in the glass, take the herbs, and drink the tea. Luke had left to go to Matt Serra’s gym and knew I had a ton of work so he laid out instructions. I stepped on the scale at 189 again and was so upset that I didn’t consume anything for a couple of hours while I returned calls as if the two-hour fast would move the needle. It didn’t.


Luke got back, which made me feel guilty for not consuming, so I manned up. By now the mud in the glass had separated and formed odd layers. I stirred and chugged. I knew there was a problem as soon as it hit my taste buds — then the consistency hit. The only thing I could think was that the dude was messing with me. (“Let’s see if we can get The Pav to consume a glass of mud from the side of the road.”) I went over to his apartment in the triplex where he and Lara were playing a Wii game, and as soon as they saw the look on my face, they started laughing. He explained that is was ground up minerals mixed with water that was preparation for the flush later. OK, so it was dirt — or more accurately, mud. I bought the explanation anyway. Hey, I am down 8 lbs. in Day Five. As I have stated, I am down for the cause short of the urine thing. And so the day begins.

“Meal” No. 1 was olive oil. I prefer it with a little vinegar, salt and pepper — and crusty Italian peasant bread. We sipped eight oz. of it through a straw. It was like drinking liquefied lard. Needless to say I have been burping it all day and have the worst fried food stomachache. I am told this is to help dislodge the stones. I am beginning to really resent these damn stones.

We are going to file coffee enema right next to skydiving and drinking shots of well tequila in Tijuana as things we were dumb enough to do once in our lives but never again. That sucked — bad. It wasn’t as if getting the two quarts of coffee jammed into your intestines was bad enough, but keeping it there for 10 minutes was pure hell. There was the intense cramping and shooting pain, the visual lumps in your stomach as you lay on your side, and the uncertainty of the power to keep it in. Luke instructed that you have to literally massage the liquid through your stomach to the gall bladder. I told him to go f@#k himself. He said something about nobody likes wind sprints either. Yeah, yeah. Well, let’s just say, not solid anymore. The real test was trying to determine when you were really done getting rid of it and the best way to clean up. After Kobe Bryant was forced to wear the retro circa 1984 Lakers game shorts a few days ago, he said he felt violated. I shared his sentiment.

We headed over to Ray Longo’s gym so Luke could do some paperwork. I talked to Pete “Drago” Sell for a while — good people. He is coming off a shoulder injury, so he’s on the shelf. Love him or hate him, he is very entertaining, and I appreciate his New York ethnic personality. Chris Lytle said to me today that, in his opinion, UFC fighters are getting so skilled they fight not to lose, and he wants someone that just wants to bang like his last fight. Drago, albeit not in his weight class, fits this mold. We had talked in Las Vegas about my Luke project, so he wanted to know how things were going. While this diet seems like a cool thing to most Southern Californians, New Yorkers think you are literally insane for even trying it. Drago said as much.

The day ended with more dirt on fruit and some soup for dinner. There were three different kinds of crackers, which are really dehydrated seeds and nuts and stuff. This was the high fiber “brooming” meal that is supposed to get those damn stones out. Be gone already. The day ends with phone calls as always, one of which is Eric “Bad” Apple, who in a very concerned tone asked, “Why would you do that?” to the day’s events. He then admitted to having a colonic once; there, you have been outed, Apple. Just hoping this nausea and bloated feeling subside. We didn’t train today, and think I may need to break a sweat tomorrow. I imagine every runner feels great the first quarter of a marathon, and somewhere in the middle, the reality of the fact you are in a 27-mile run hits. My reality hit today. They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and at the conclusion of Day 5, I run on…

Day 6

A buck eighty-nine; I am buying new batteries for Luke’s digital scale.

Luke seemed a little excited this morning and reminded me that today was the day I would pass gall stones. In theory this is bile from the gall bladder that hardens and is stored. I read that we could have upward of 1,500 in our systems. We have taken significant measures to loosen them over the past few days. So I am in the bathroom thinking, “How are you supposed to know?” when Luke informed me not to flush. When I emerge from the bathroom there is Mr. Cummo with chop sticks. Now I am thinking he is taking this way too seriously.

After a brief analysis, he informs me that while there were no stones, I did have some bark-like matter that came from my liver and asked if I wanted to save it. I am thinking, “What, are we scrapbooking now?” but just gave him a polite, “No thanks, Bro.” I have been depressed about the lack of stones all day, but he reassures me that they will come out the next time we drink a bottle of olive oil.

The day needed a pick-me-up so I called UFC matchmaker Joe Silva to check the progress of my guys’ fights. He said he was still working on it but then informed me they would be releasing two of them, Jordan Radev and Richie Hightower. While I protested, he made good points. Jordan just lost to Dean Lister at the last UFC to bring him to 0-2 in the show. He is a Bulgarian Olympic wrestler who had killed it in Europe going 11-1. I have to now man up and make the tough call to his translator — a very knowledgeable, no-nonsense businesswoman from New York. I also now have to earn my keep by shopping this UFC vet and getting him back on track.

Hightower is a different story. He is a buddy. I knew him socially, and he was my nightlife hook-it-up guy in Phoenix. He is always the life of the party, and the after-parties at his awesome pad are legendary. He had bugged me for a while to represent him, but he was my height and weighed about 240. I thought he was one of those guys who fought for fun and to get girls. He told me he was going to quit his lucrative mortgage job and get in shape; I hear this story daily from guys. My attitude is, “Show me.” Well, Hightower did. He dropped the weight; I signed him, and I got him a tough “tester” fight. He KO’d the guy in about 30 seconds. We applied for “The Ultimate Fighter” show even though he had never fought at 170 — and he made it. He showed well, and for a guy who is relatively new to the serious side of this sport, I was very proud of him. One of my favorite quotes was the advice Nick Diaz gave to little brother Nate before a WEC fight. While graphic in nature, it really is a life lesson. He said “F@#* him up, and don’t be a bitch.” Hightower was overmatched, but he wasn’t a bitch. He stood toe to toe, and threw leather and brought it. Joe Silva said we would be doing a disservice to this kid to throw him into the 170 mix at this stage of his development. “He is young, so why ruin him?” I will keep this kid working for sure.

Luke informed me he had a private client at Ray Long’s gym and then we would train. I asked him, with all do respect to my sensei, if I could go to the regular gym across the street from his house and get a good cardio sweat on the machines. Geez, it is been so long since I lived here that I had forgotten what a New York meathead gym is like. Dudes in there were sweating sauce. In an hour and a half, I heard like 30 “Yos,” 16 “Fa git about its,” and 12 “Wada you doins.“

I met Luke back at the house, and he treated me to fruit crumble. This was diced fruit with berries, flax and almond meal, honey, agave, and sun dried sea salt. It was off the chain. Given the choice of this or a traditional dessert, I would be all over this. Good stuff.

Day 7

While the weight is not coming off, I can feel my body composition changing. At least that is what I keep telling myself. The scale lied to me this morning and said upper 188. I guess that means nine pounds lost overall, so I shouldn’t bitch. I think I have an ab.

It was a long night again with a middle-of-the-night Finland call to break up the monotony of sleep. I have a number of unresolved work issues that also affect sleep patterns: the pending UFC fights that should be offered any day, getting Phil Baroni the right opportunity so that Phil Baroni can be Phil Baroni again, getting the right opponents for two of my fighters whose opponents in the WCO got hurt — oh, and the thankless job of soliciting sponsors (it is never enough, and they never pay on time).

After scarfing some dirt and grapefruit chasers, we did caster packs. Again this is where you put cheesecloth soaked in caster oil over your gall bladder, then wrap your midsection in cellophane and cover it with a hot water bottle for an hour. We try to get a couple of these in a day. I dozed off during mine, and Luke woke me to go train. We went to Ray’s gym and met Luke’s strength and conditioning coach Mike Jocson. He, like Luke, eats a Lifefood diet. We were the only people there, which I found odd for a Saturday. A little marketing, Longo, and this place could be a gold mine; let’s talk. Mike put us through a very unique workout using stations and mostly body weight. While I have played a variety of sports my whole life, and attended summer camps growing up getting specialized instruction, I have never encountered a workout like this. What seemed like nominal movement during demonstration turned into purgatory in practice. I am not a kinesiologist, but I can make a prediction on tomorrow’s soreness right now. Mike did give me a beanie and cool shirt for surviving, so he is aces in my book.

Luke breaks my balls about being on the phone and computer every waking hour, but persistence beats resistance. I had a good day. We landed Radev a main-event fight against a PRIDE vet in Australia. I have a three-fight deal coming over for Hightower that begins with a title fight in March in a great show that will be on TV and is going to get behind him and push him. Sammy Morgan got a huge fight and multi-fight deal with a major organization that is going to be announced on Monday. Finally, we buckled down the details for Falaniko “Niko” Vitale and Anthony Torres for big fights in Hawaii in three weeks. We just missed a shot for Nik Lentz, a prospect out of Minnesota, but there will be others. Between all of this and the related calls and the requisite recruiting, it was a full day.

I was pleasantly surprised when a friend redid my Myspace page for me. I love this medium, and I have made numerous professional and social contacts from it. Fighters and promoters from all over the world have found me using it, most recently client Cyrille Diabate from France, and prospective clients Hector Lombard from Australia, and Mike Patt from Ohio. Check it out at www.myspace.com/kenpavia. There are a lot of fun fight pictures from my travels.

Dinner was sushi “rice” over a salad. We went to Whole Foods Market on the way home but forgot the nori for the sushi rolls, so we improvised. The food was really flavor rich and was textured, so it was satisfying. Different bites finished differently. There was an undercurrent of garlic, but I tasted watercress, jicama, and green onion or scallion. The best way to describe it was fresh. It is funny, but I want to say I have a craving, but I really don’t. I remember when I went on the Master Cleanse and consumed nothing but lemon water and maple syrup for 10 days. I would go to the elliptical machine at the gym to watch the TV ads for food, drooling over the thought of that In and Out Burger — something I would normally never eat. That is not the case with this cleanse. We passed a Dunkin’ Donuts in the car today… nothing. I walked the impressive fish stand at the market, and I love fish, but while it was interesting to see what was indigenous… nothing. I imagined what I would be doing if I was back home — probably sushi at Tuna Town with a coed. Well, that half-sounded good — the celibacy thing is killing me. With testosterone filling my veins, I trudge forward.

Day 8

I am sore; even my hair hurts. I don’t know if it is a year of relative inactivity, the two-a-day workouts, or the different workout Luke’s strength and conditioning coach Mike Jocson put us through — but something is working. The scale is depressing, so I am going to skip it for a few days.

One thing I find odd about the cleanse is the large amount of salt in everything. We even drink salt water, which I thought would cause water retention. At least that has been my excuse for weight retention. Luke tells me the salt we have been consuming is sun dried sea salt, not processed and without iodine. In practice this actually is mineral rich and reduces water retention between the cells improving conductivity and decreasing bloating. It sounded kind of smart, so I bought it.
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We relaxed in the morning, and I worked away on the phones doing some client relations, talking to UFC matchaker Joe Silva about the upcoming fights for my guys. He gave me Johnathan Goulet’s fight, which we happily accepted. Look for an announcement soon. Joe was sick, so we only got one — and that means pins and needles for another day or two for everyone else.

Early evening we headed back into the city. Luke spends time working behind the counter at Jubb’s Longevity every time we go. I think he enjoys learning how to make all the foods and generally contributing to the movement. I had a weird barrage of calls, so I took the time to walk around downtown and talk. Coming from So Cal, this really is a culture shock. I look at these concrete residential buildings and think of the movie “The Matrix” in which you live you life as a number in a POD. It seems inhumane (god, please tell me I am not becoming a humanist liberal). While I am enjoying the experience, I yearn for my strolls down the Pier back home watching the surfers on the South Side and looking in the buckets to see what the fishermen have brought in. Here you are almost mesmerized, which is what I realized when Luke called to see where I was and I realized I had been walking away from the store in one direction for half an hour. As a side note I was wearing a Team Razor Rob McCullough sweat suit, and two people stopped me and asked about it. Kinda cool.

This is the third visit to the bathhouse, and this place rocks. Once in you are given boxers, a towel to use like an Arabian headdress to keep your head cool, and a thin robe. Our system is to wet down in the showers fully clothed and start in the Russian radiant heat room. One person lies down and covers his face with a cold towel. He is then “washed” with soap using an instrument made of what looks like oak leaves. Periodically ice cold water is dumped on your body which is exhilarating. Luke says it is like a massage for the cells. After this I usually bounce around to the different type of heat and steam rooms. Dr. Jubb suggests getting in the cold plunge pool between rooms. I do this but get severely depressed by the physiological effects this has on my anatomy. I have to remind myself: it is only because the water is cold, Pav; it is not permanent.

We closed the joint down at 10 p.m. and went back to the Dr. Jubb’s store. The diet, lifestyle and deli attract what I call “granolas.” Really they are idealistic liberals that stop in, work for a little while and help out on a volunteer basis, hug everyone, and split. While the world would definitely be a better place if everyone accepted their mindset, it just doesn’t seem likely in this lifetime — plus they are way too happy for me. We tried it, and I think it was called the ’60s. In the spirit of the mood, I struck up a conversation with Barry while Luke fixed up cilantro soup for dinner. Barry told me that a third political party was going to emerge, one with “granola-like” aspirations and win the next president election. I politely smiled and said “not happening, dude.” He then told me, dead serious, that he knew a Rothchild and he was going to invite him into his teepee in Central Park and they were going to have a religious ceremony and smoke peyote. He was then going to introduce him to the Native American lobby that was going to convince him to do away with the Federal Reserve. I laughed wholeheartedly as I thought it was a joke. It wasn’t. It was time for Luke and me to go.

Day 9

I am in the final stretch, so I decided to step up the workouts. I went to the meathead gym and banged out 50 minutes of intense cardio with layers of clothes on and did a light “fraternity lift.” That is where you do chest, biceps and triceps only. Dr. Jubb had suggested that I rest more, but his goal is vitality, whereas Luke is shooting for weight loss and conditioning, so Luke blessed my efforts. Dr. Jubb also suggested stepping up the mineral intake, particularly the marine mineral. That really bummed me out because as progressively difficult as the first three samples of dirt are beginning to be — and we are doing them three times a day — the marine minerals are the worst. Even though they are placed between orange slices, they taste like the gravel of a dirty goldfish bowl. I gag every time I ingest them.

Dr. Jubb — ahh, where do I begin? Well, he is atypical. In looking to the diet, I look to those that live on it to see results. He is about 6-foot-2, with a 26-inch waist, and a lean 165 lbs. I am guessing, with decent muscle base despite the lack of animal protein. If you told me he was in his early 30s, I would believe you, but our rough guess based on information available is late 50s, early 60s. He doesn’t say. Well back to the atypical. He wears tight, size 4 women’s jeans, clogs, shirts that expose his midriff, and his head is shaved but for about a 3”-by-2” patch that sprouts two foot-long braids. He is from an island off the coast of Australia and has a think accent and says stuff like, “Good on you, mate.” Oh yeah, and the basis for his subsistence is his own urine and a touch of food. I swear I feel like I am in a “Twilight Zone” episode.

Luke handed me a grapefruit-and-aloe smoothie, and we headed off to Ray Longo’s, where Luke told me he would hold pads for me. On the way I got a concerned text from my good buddy Scott Coker at Strikeforce. He didn’t know I was still in New York and asked me if I had seen Josh “The Punk” Thompson. Punk was MIA and when last seen was headed to So Cal. He is slated to fight Gilbert Melendez in the main event at an upcoming Strikefoce card. He knew The Punk and I were friends. Razor Rob McCullough has lived with me the past few years, and he is in training for his WEC title defense. I had invited Punk to come down to join the camp. I have a three bedroom house, so there is always a fighter guest room. Well, I phoned Razor, and he filled me in: Camp is going great, they are doing three a days, and in between, pretty much eating and sleeping. Punk has been a great addition and stepped up as a respected coach even though he is in a foreign gym, which is impressive. The camp is an impressive group with Randy Bowers, Travis McRoberts, UFC vets Zach Light and Tiki, and of course Tito Ortiz and Quinton “Rampage” Jackson stopping in. I let Coker know all was well. I think he was just checking in on his investment.

Once again George Sotiropoulos was at Longo’s. He was sparring in the ring when we got there. While Luke taught the class, I warmed up and kept an eye on George. My first note was that he was sparring on like speed 7 without head gear. That made me nervous for him, but hell, he is a pro. Without going into detail, I will say that George looks better in the gym then he did on “The Ultimate Fighter.” He appears to have a good head on his shoulders, and I expect a long UFC career for him — if he gets a good agent behind him to help him with the details and match-ups. My ego wouldn’t let me pass that opportunity for a shameless self-promote.

Luke held pads for me for a few rounds, we danced, and he wore me out. We then did a finishing ab workout. Even though I had two pretty good workouts today, an hour later I felt like I could do it again. I can only attribute this to diet. We headed home, and Luke prepared a plate of “sushi” rolls that were great.

I must say I came in blindly to this experience because Luke advertised results. If his methods were to eat elephant dung, I was rolling the dice (just can’t drink human urine). I am all about results. Do or don’t do, there is no try. Well, first-hand I am getting them. It is not in my head. I am down over 10 legit, not water weight, pounds. My head is much clearer. I am sleeping less. The bags under my eyes are reduced. I don’t drag at the end of the day. The results have been so dramatic in this short period that I am trying to get Luke to come back with me for a week to help me make lifestyle changes to incorporate this into my schedule. I think he would enjoy the benefits of Razor’s camp, as well. I don’t want to create another time-consuming responsibility in my life like planning what I am going to eat all the time. I just can’t turn a blind eye to what it has done. I came with an open mind and optimism, and thus far, it has exceeded expectations.

With enthusiasm, I venture into the home stretch.

Day 10

OK, all enthusiasm was tapered when Luke informed me that today was cleanse day again. I thought back to the first cleanse day, and said, “Ah, no dude, it is not.” So I am emptying two quarts of coffee into my lower intestines wishing I was in shape already so I can kick the crap out of this mother f@#&er. The fact that he made me keep it in for 12 minutes this time instead of 10 makes me think he is a closet sadist. I was in the fetal position in the living room externally trying to push the fluid up my intestines. I am pretty sure I stared at my clock for over an hour waiting for those 12 minutes to pass. Nobody likes wind sprints — I know, I know.

Just when I thought I was over the hill, here comes Luke like a customer from the movie “Hostile,” and in his hand is a measuring cup with eight ounces of olive oil. Think about how much eight ounces is. A sip is like a half an ounce, and tastes literally like the stuff they throw the fries in at McDonalds. The pure lemon juice chaser did not help in the least, and if it weren’t for the oil, would have been gross in and of itself. I felt myself craving some of that dirt I had been consuming three times a day as I choked it down.

So the start of my day was less then stellar. The diet wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the cleanses. I would have to think long and hard about a repeat of this portion.

It was time to get some answers as I have clients stressing, and the pin-and-needles thing is getting old. I phoned one of the producers of “The Ultimate Fighter,” Jaime Campione. While I have never met her face to face, we have talked countless times. She is always helpful and forthright, and even better, has a great phone voice. It is funny but literally every one of my testosterone-filled clients that talks to her asks me questions about her. I keep the answers in the Jaime file next to the phone for when they start. “I don’t know if she is involved, I don’t know if she likes fighters, I think she moved to Vegas, and I have never met her.” Oh, and I usually sprinkle in, “Slow down, Stallion; it is her job to be nice.“

Well today Jaime had answers — kind of. I submitted five guys for consideration for the new show. While none of them had to go to the open tryout in New York, four were invited to Las Vegas for final consideration. Three passed all the medicals and background checks. Today I found out that all three had at least made alternate status and were going to Vegas. They will be fired up. These are up and comers looking for their big break, and they may have just gotten it. I say I make dreams come true, and it is my pleasure, every day.

Luke suggested I don’t train today because of the cleanse. I told him I felt very nauseated and the no-training thing sounded way cool. He told me in his cleanse last night he was really sick on the verge of tears and ended up with a great “harvest” so the fact that I am sick is a good sign. He fixed me a nice “brooming” meal of raw vegetables, anut (which is tuna spelled backward), and dehydrated flaxseed crackers. I am digging flaxseed stuff and will be picking some up on the way home from the airport in California.

I do really want Luke as a client, but as I explained to him, I think I have to find a way to create value within his value system, which is different than any of my other clients. Quite frankly I would be disappointed in myself if I didn’t find a way to sign him. He is really good people and I look forward to continuing a friendship born out of my newfound respect for the way he lives his life. As his self-appointed adviser, though, I counseled him that it is not time — yet.

Day 11

Well let’s just say the flax and olive oil worked. I wasn’t sure if there were stones, so I saved the specimen for Luke when he came back from errands. He was more then happy to attack it with chop sticks in search of the “harvest.” He was pleased to announce he did find a couple of small ones but was once again surprised by the significant bark-like discharge that he is pretty sure is waste product from the liver. It was quite odd textured. Am I really discussing my bowl movements in a public forum? Get me out of here already.

It was Murphy’s Law Day; anything that could go wrong did. Today I felt like a firefighter there was so much heat. First Tiki Ghosn’s opponent pulled out of the WCO fight Saturday due to injury, and his teammate — a 4-0 wrestler — offered to fill in. Tiki has been preparing for a totally different style and thought this might be a setup. The negotiations with the commission and promoter began, as did the search for a suitable opponent on two days’ notice. Then Carmelo Marrero’s opponent was rejected by the commission. This sucked because Melo is coming in from Florida and had really been counting on this fight financially. While he entered our relationship with an unbridled trust, we have only been through one fight together. I told him to prepare — that he would be fighting a guy his size who has a favorable style — and to focus on fighting. He is under a lot of pressure and I sympathize with his plight. I called in all favors to make sure he stayed on the card.

Then out of nowhere I get a call and find out that Joe Riggs got in a bad car accident. Apparently he was being driven from the airport to the hotel and the girl driving crashed. I went into fact-gathering mode and was able to track him down. His status for the fight is up in the air.

I needed a break, so I went to the gym to get a sweat. I was wearing layers, working up a healthy froth, when Joe Silva called. We went back and forth and ended up with a very favorable match-up for Chris Lytle, a potential for a highlight-reel fight for Anthony Johnson, and we might have a dream match-up for “Irish” Jake O’Brien’s return. All three guys were psyched. “AJ” was in a chatty mood and had me is tears. He is in Big Bear, Calif.; I hooked him up with my buddy Kendall Grove for his camp at Tito Ortiz’s compound. He was telling me how all the boys went to a local bar to blow off some steam and Solomon Hutcherson donned his cowboy boots, skin-tight Affliction threads, threw a couple back, and danced all night with a large female — loud.

As I was walking back to Luke’s, Showtime called and we finalized a deal. I am kind of sick over it because in three-plus years, it is the first time two of my guys will be fighting each other. Seven-time PRIDE veteran James Thompson will be making his U.S. debut against my prospect heavyweight, undefeated Brett Rogers. These are two very big men, and it should be an entertaining fight.

Finally I spent some time on the phone with Phil Baroni. We pinpointed a target date for his return in March and have started to weigh offers. It is promising in that there is so much interest for him as the first five calls all are submitting significant offers. He still has a fight left on his Strikeforce deal, and really in the back of his mind, he wants Anderson Silva tomorrow; that is just him. It is my job to help guide him to the right opportunity that furthers his career and objectives.

I needed some rest, so it was into the city with Luke for Dr. Jubb’s store and the bathhouse. Luke decided to work at the deli and sent me over for the steam and cold treatments. I am going to miss this place and even tried to buy a hoodie to bring home, but they were sold out. It was back to the deli for one of the great soups, and against my better judgment, an attempt at conversation with a Granola. Trip, the cross-dressing chef, asked me where I was from. I told him Huntington Beach. He told me he grew up in The OC but hated HB because he got beat up there once. The conversation progressed into how Starbucks represented the evil empire because they were big business, they drove the mom-and-pops out of business, forced South American bean famers off their lands, and its lobby in Congress dictated foreign policy. I laughed wholeheartedly and commended him on his creative imagination. He was serious. It was time to go — again.

Day 12

I am a little disappointed that today is my last day. I have really enjoyed my time here. It has been educational, beneficial and enjoyable.

Luke ushered me out the door for a cardio workout as he wanted to maximize the weight loss for the “after” pictures. I returned to some more dirt and fruit and an Irish Sea Moss and fruit smoothie to replenish so I could have a second workout. It also had some aspect of a chocolate plant, cacao. When blended, the Sea Moss forms a gel like consistency and gives the smoothie a dairy like taste. It was awesome and really did give me a buzz. Luke said that was from the goji berries or something.

Again, phone work occupied my day: Tiki and Melo got opponents, and Riggs is still a game-time call. I did get some personal good news. Growing up my parents would take my younger sister and brother and me on regular outings in the car. Our favorite eight-track tape — don’t laugh, I am that old — was “Jesus Christ Superstar” as we had seen the movie countless times. I swear we wore it out. Well, my father passed away from cancer two years ago (it was colon, and it was six weeks from diagnosis to death, which is part of the reason for this effort). My mother is currently undergoing chemo for blood cancer. Sister and brother are married with families, so it is an occasional weekend and holiday that brings us together. Well my brother surprised us with front-row tickets to the play “Superstar” at the Performing Arts Center, and Mom is getting out to join us on Sunday. I am looking forward to it sandwiched between the WCO on Saturday and the five-hour drive to the Palace Fights on Thursday in Leemore, Calif., where I get to hang with my boy Jeff Sherwood from Sherdog.

It was back to Ray Longo’s gym for Thai-boxing class and some ab work. The class was decent and very different than the ones back home. I arranged to meet my buddy Cliff Morgan from Gamma O at the gym after. He has been a big supporter of my guys for years. The cool thing is my guys really do use the product because it does really work, whether you are training or not. Who doesn’t want a natural testosterone boost? Gotta love the shameless self promotes.

When we were done with the class, we got a treat: an opportunity to see Luke and George Sotiropoulos spar. Mike Tyson once said, “Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face.” These cats traded and kept coming. Cliff and I chatted and watched with one eye, but by the third and fourth round, it was all about the show. They have very different styles and the exchanges were heated and very technical. Ray shouted instruction cage side; it was a good back-and-forth effort.

Luke had brought a feast back from the deli the night before for my final meal, including chocolate pudding pie and lemon chocolate cheesecake, but it was final weigh-in and pictures first. Despite a huge recovery smoothie after training, the scale said 186. That is 11 pounds in 12 days. His scale is a little old, and I have a feeling when I get back home I will be around 183. Not bad, but more importantly, I wanted to see the before and after pictures, so without further ado…




With regret I must now wind up the journal. I had a blast writing it and hope you enjoyed reading it. I would like to thank The Junkie for giving me a forum to document this adventure; Lara and Zack Cummo for letting me occupy Luke for two weeks; Dr. Jubb for his cutting-edge methods that I have and will continue to embrace; my staff back home for picking up the slack; Ray Longo for his hospitality at the gym; and last but not least, my new good friend Luke. Dude, you are weird, but you have earned my respect for your convictions, methods, research, intelligence and dedication to the sport and your career. Luke is the anti-fighter in that he doesn’t talk about it; he just quietly does it and does not compromise in any aspect. I feel like he changed my life for the better, and now, I have to find a way to add enough value to him to sign him as a client and change his life for the better as well. With a four-pack, and a refreshed outlook on life, The Pav trudges forward…

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