Thursday, July 03, 2008

Dale Hartt's Sherdog.Com Blog

I sit here thinking about the Irony of my life. Opportunity to make enough money to support my family and train has come my way. At the same time a ticket sits next to me unassumingly quite for failure to pay a toll. I wasn’t aware of the upcoming toll or I would have driven around. Funny thing is I really didn't have the money, not on me, not anywhere. I’m Dale Hartt and July 19th I will become a UFC fighter. This diary is going to be written to give people some perspective on the feelings and experience of a first time Ultimate Fighter.

Somehow the Irony constantly reminds me just to ride life's flows instead of trying to make my own river. I signed with Ken Pavia looking for bigger and better paydays and the opportunity to showcase my skills. Unfortunately pickings for fights were dry and I was forced stretch my financial economics degree to the limit, picking up a paint brush. Kevin and I would head to work around six am every morning and work until four or so. Then I would hit the gym with Marcus around five, lift weights from eight until ten and head home to see my baby.

I probably don’t need to tell you that when Ken called with the news of getting me into the UFC it was amazing. In another strange twist of fate earlier in the day he had told me the news that I wasn’t fighting in the UFC or a fight for X-1 that I’d been hoping for. So I did what every self respecting member of society does when finding out such news while road tripping for a fight, I hit the bar. Not being much of a drinker the shots I was pounding with my friend Travis seemed to be doing the trick. I wasn’t upset anymore about not being able to fight, and as a bonus, I couldn’t feel my toes. No really at least ten minutes was spent trying to feel them, but they were gone. After the bars closed we dropped off my friend Garth, who was fighting, at the hotel room. You know desperation has set in when your forced into a random room hotel room with soccer players because you saw they had beer when you rode by. Nothing against soccer players, I just don’t see the point of all that running just to kick a ball. I’m too fat for that nonsense.

Ken Pavia calls me at 2:30 am telling me I'm fighting in the UFC. I proceed outside and successfully completed a triple spring with hand stand. I don’t know what that means but it was probably the second happiest moment of my life. Ken asked me if I had been drinking, I told him a couple, he told me to put the beer down promptly, which I did. Probably the most important part of this story is about the emotions that come to somebody who has suffered greatly and then achieved their dream. I have lived in third world poverty so I could train everyday. My girl and I sleep in a bed much too small for two human beings, and it's especially bad for her since I like to make snow angels when I sleep. I don’t like the idea of getting ahead of myself with excitement and don’t want people to misinterpret what I say as a arrogance that I have made it. I realize fully that fighting in the UFC is easy compared to staying in the UFC. I still am very proud of just the fact that I will be stepping into the Octagon as a contestant. I will be a peer with many of the people I admire and look up to. It’s the biggest honor I could have asked for. Besides my son everything else in life pales in comparison to it. For me, if they called and said would you like to be president of the United States, but you’ll have to give up fighting I would tell them to stuff it. I can think of no accomplishment that would mean more to me, nothing. Thanks for taking the time to read my first diary entry. I'll make the next one on the training I’m doing to get ready. Please feel free to email me at and let me know what I can improve upon, and check out my website at and



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