Fedor Emelianenko

[Jm1]

Vasemmalla iso lhw ja oikealla pieni welteri. Koosta huolimatta veikkaan että Gussella on löytynyt riittävästi nöyryyttä...

 

[Brabo]

Vasemmalla iso lhw ja oikealla pieni welteri. Koosta huolimatta veikkaan että Gussella on löytynyt riittävästi nöyryyttä...

Nyt, kun on ollut kaikkia näitä kuvia esim. Jonesista ja Gussesta Fedorin kanssa niin olen miettinyt, että tietääkö edes Fedor keiden kanssa poseeraa noita kuvia varten? :D Fedja ei kuitenkaan tainnut Priden jälkeen seurata kansainvälistä vapaaotteluskeneä juuri ollenkaan, ei tiennyt kuka Lesnar on silloin, kun oli UFC-mestari ym.

 

[Counterfeith]

Nyt, kun on ollut kaikkia näitä kuvia esim. Jonesista ja Gussesta Fedorin kanssa niin olen miettinyt, että tietääkö edes Fedor keiden kanssa poseeraa noita kuvia varten? :D Fedja ei kuitenkaan tainnut Priden jälkeen seurata kansainvälistä vapaaotteluskeneä juuri ollenkaan, ei tiennyt kuka Lesnar on silloin, kun oli UFC-mestari ym.

"Ah, another fanpic, okay!".

 

[Tonny]

Nyt, kun on ollut kaikkia näitä kuvia esim. Jonesista ja Gussesta Fedorin kanssa niin olen miettinyt, että tietääkö edes Fedor keiden kanssa poseeraa noita kuvia varten? :D Fedja ei kuitenkaan tainnut Priden jälkeen seurata kansainvälistä vapaaotteluskeneä juuri ollenkaan, ei tiennyt kuka Lesnar on silloin, kun oli UFC-mestari ym.

Varmaan ajattelee että ne on jotain fanipoikia... mut onhan ne sitäkin :D

 

[Japi]

Nyt, kun on ollut kaikkia näitä kuvia esim. Jonesista ja Gussesta Fedorin kanssa niin olen miettinyt, että tietääkö edes Fedor keiden kanssa poseeraa noita kuvia varten? :D Fedja ei kuitenkaan tainnut Priden jälkeen seurata kansainvälistä vapaaotteluskeneä juuri ollenkaan, ei tiennyt kuka Lesnar on silloin, kun oli UFC-mestari ym.

Joo ja se treenas vaan salilla missä ei ollu sähköjä, matkat salille ja takas oli pelkkää ylämäkeä kesät talvet vastatuulessa. Tai sit se tiesi ketkä oli mestareita ja piti vaan yllä auraa et fanipojat olis täpinöissään.

 

[Brabo]

Joo ja se treenas vaan salilla missä ei ollu sähköjä, matkat salille ja takas oli pelkkää ylämäkeä kesät talvet vastatuulessa. Tai sit se tiesi ketkä oli mestareita ja piti vaan yllä auraa et fanipojat olis täpinöissään.

Häh?

 

[Jm1]

Joo ja se treenas vaan salilla missä ei ollu sähköjä, matkat salille ja takas oli pelkkää ylämäkeä kesät talvet vastatuulessa. Tai sit se tiesi ketkä oli mestareita ja piti vaan yllä auraa et fanipojat olis täpinöissään.

Onhan niitä reenivideoita pelkästään useammasta paikasta ainakin parista eli siitä kolkommasta ja sitten uudemmasta rakennuksesta. Ei Feukka ainakaan ennen myöntänyt että seuraisi mitenkään paljoa vapaaottelua ja kyllä mä tuon nielen aivan kokonaisena, tämänpäivän tilanteesta ei ole faktaa. Saattaa olla että valmentajan hommissa seuraa enemmän mitä aktiiviuran aikana.

 

[Mauler>Bones]

Japille tekisi hyvää istua joskus alas Fedorin kanssa ja ottaa yhdessä parit oluset. Sen jälkeen ei kuultaisi enää koskaan pahaa sanaa Fedorista Japin suusta.

 

[Jm1]

Japille tekisi hyvää istua joskus alas Fedorin kanssa ja ottaa yhdessä parit oluset. Sen jälkeen ei kuultaisi enää koskaan pahaa sanaa Fedorista Japin suusta.

Eihän Japi ole koskaan kieltänyt etteikö fanittaisi Feukkaa tai en ainakaan sellasta muista. Eiköhän tuo naapuria arvosta aika korkealle vaikka eihän se meille kuulu mitä kukin fanittaa.

- - - Updated - - -

 

[Japi]

Japille tekisi hyvää istua joskus alas Fedorin kanssa ja ottaa yhdessä parit oluset. Sen jälkeen ei kuultaisi enää koskaan pahaa sanaa Fedorista Japin suusta.

Ttu ku en juo olutta mutta kyllä mä voisin Fedorin kanssa juoda russki standardia pullon jos toisenkin, kieliongelmat kyllä saattaisi vaivata. Jos pitäisi valita kenen kanssa mieluiten mma piireistä lähtis juomaan ni Joku Rogani vois olla kyllä hauskinta seuraa, sit siihen seuraks Bas ja Griffin. Mun mma suosikki olis todennäköisesti vitun tylsää juopposeuraa, todennäköisesti tajua niistä hommista mitään kyseinen hämis.

Rampagen ja Bispingin kanssa joutuis vaikeuksiin ja Wanderlein seurassa vois vittuilla kelle vaan. Danan kanssa olis silleen mukavaa et se varmaan maksais kaiken. Siinäpä idea topicille, kenen mma ukon kanssa joisit mieluiten ja miksi.

 

[Counterfeith]

Hillitön repeäminen ajatukselle humalaisesta Silvasta :lol2:

 

[Jm1]

Ttu ku en juo olutta mutta kyllä mä voisin Fedorin kanssa juoda russki standardia pullon jos toisenkin, kieliongelmat kyllä saattaisi vaivata. Jos pitäisi valita kenen kanssa mieluiten mma piireistä lähtis juomaan ni Joku Rogani vois olla kyllä hauskinta seuraa, sit siihen seuraks Bas ja Griffin. Mun mma suosikki olis todennäköisesti vitun tylsää juopposeuraa, todennäköisesti tajua niistä hommista mitään kyseinen hämis.

Rampagen ja Bispingin kanssa joutuis vaikeuksiin ja Wanderlein seurassa vois vittuilla kelle vaan. Danan kanssa olis silleen mukavaa et se varmaan maksais kaiken. Siinäpä idea topicille, kenen mma ukon kanssa joisit mieluiten ja miksi.

En tiiä kenen kanssa, mutta Feukan kanssa pitäs olla tarkkana mitä se tarjoaa. Laitetaan tähän Thompsonin juttu Fedorista (pride aikaan).

Take it away, James:

I’ll leave you with a story of mine from when we both fought on Pride shock waves 2006. I had beaten Yoshida on the NYE Pride show and had come back to the hotel early from cerebrating as I was drained and I’d had enough for the night. As I entered the hotel lobby Fedor was standing front and centre swaying from side to side, he straightened up as I came through the doors and looked up towards me. I started moving from foot to foot as if he was still swaying and he burst out laughing at this and beckoned me towards him. As I approached him he lightly grabbed me and we started play fighting in the lobby, it was only messing around however I’d be lying if didn’t say a small part of me was praying he wasn’t a violent drunk and that he wouldn’t snap and sambo throw me on to the cold hard floor of the hotel lobby. If the Truth be told I was actually checking the floor during our ‘play fight to see if there was a softer part of it for me to land on should things have started to go wrong!

After we’d stopped with the play fighting, Fedor beckoned me towards his table which was in a kind of Lounge area with sofas and chairs crowded around a coffee table. I said hello to the inhabitants who were all Russian males that didn’t speak any English- apart from Fedors manager Vadim Finkelstein who spoke good English. Fedor picked up a sports bag and placed it on the coffee table in front of us all. I could tell from the clinging and clanging of glass that his Mma kit wasn’t in it. A couple of his Russian mates went to get glasses & Fedor started to produce these strange shaped glass bottles from his kit bag. What struck me as odd was that none of these bottles had labels on and you could tell that they weren’t bought down the local off license; they reminded me of bottles you might find in a pharmacy. As Fedor brought out all these bottles of different shapes and sizes I could tell which ones were the strongest (or the favourites) by the gasps and applause each bottle would receive. Fedor delved in to his bag of tricks once again and produced a square bottle which had Smokey dark blue glass and a long narrow neck. But what I really noticed was the reaction of the group, as for a second they were silenced- before hushed gasps of shock and Awe reverberated around the table.

Fedor held this bottle up as if it was the world cup before cuddling it in his arms as if it was a new born child and this brought laughter. He poured a large amount in to one of the glasses -I’m not sure if smoke came off the liquid as it was poured or if I’m just embellishing that part for the story, but what I do remember was that the liquid was clear and handed over the table to me by Fedor with great care. All eyes were now focused on the Englishman and I felt like I was part of some experiment and seeing that I know how seriously Russians take their drinking; I didn’t want to spoil my street cred by asking if they had any Orange juice to mix with it. I was somewhat nervous of the drink that lay before me, so I pictured that what was in the glass was the ‘secret elixir to what made Fedor great’ and by consuming what was in the glass, it would have the same effect on me. With these thoughts I threw back my head and downed it in one.

Now bear in mind this wasn’t a shot glass, it was a normal sized glass filled half full (not half empty). As the contents of the glass filled my mouth, my tongue recoiled and looked for a place to hide. The burning sensation I felt in my mouth, then throat, then chest was overwhelming but I’m English and we too pride ourselves on our drinking ability and even if It was petrol that he’d given me to drink (which is not completely impossible judging by the taste) I was downing this fucker of a drink, not just for my own honour but for the honour of England! I slammed down my glass, gave my head a shake and with the machoness I thought eastern Europeans would recognise, I tipped my glass implying that I wanted another one… which was the last thing I wanted. My new Russian friends loved this and patted my head as I ran my tongue over my teeth to check were still there. Fedor laughed at this and poured me another healthy glass of evil.

With that Josh Barnett came into our drinking area, he had fought Big Nog earlier and lost a close decision. Josh and Fedor had talked and straightened out some problems they’d had the day before and in the process they realised they actually got on very well (I knew this as my trainer/manager at the time had arranged their talk). Fedor greeted Barnett like a long lost brother. He pulled up a chair for him and poured him a drink. I was pleased with this as it meant the Russians had a new westerner to experiment on, plus it gave me a minute to collect myself- which was needed as whatever it was that had been pushed in my direction a minute earlier was coursing though my veins and making me blink a lot for some bizarre reason!.

I talked to a mixture of people for 30 minutes or so which seems strange when I look back as there were only three people that spoke English including myself! I was still tired and I had to be up early in the morning for a stupid o clock flight home. My room (which was my original destination) for the second time that night, became my goal. I was saying my goodbyes to all my new friends when Fedor appeared and pointed to the (my) glass which I hadn’t touched since giving it the ‘big un’ half an hour previously in front of everyone. I felt a massive weight suddenly hang over my head again, I looked at Fedor pleadingly but he just held his glass up and tipped it just like I had done. I pick up my glass clinked it with Fedor and once again downed this un-godly liquid. It again felt like I was trying to down hot coals and I half expected my liver to write me a note whilst I slept that night stating that he could no longer take the abuse! Fedor tried to make me have another drink but I’d said my goodbyes and I stumbled off to my room… I’m sure this thing I call the ‘Russian turpentine ordeal’ wasn’t a big deal for Fedor as he was just being himself and I doubt that he would hardly even remember all this, but for me it was a big deal and I love my story and appreciate Fedor taking the time and just being able to have a laugh. For me, this doesn’t make him a great champion…but it definitely adds to it.

Your move, you guys.

 

[ujo]

Japille tekisi hyvää istua joskus alas Fedorin kanssa ja ottaa yhdessä parit oluset. Sen jälkeen ei kuultaisi enää koskaan pahaa sanaa Fedorista Japin suusta.

tai sitä 40v konjakkia (jos oikein muistan) mitä viini/konjakki/viski -ketjussa tässä vastikään Japi kehuskeli. ^^

 

[Japi]

En tiiä kenen kanssa, mutta Feukan kanssa pitäs olla tarkkana mitä se tarjoaa. Laitetaan tähän Thompsonin juttu Fedorista (pride aikaan).

Take it away, James:

I’ll leave you with a story of mine from when we both fought on Pride shock waves 2006. I had beaten Yoshida on the NYE Pride show and had come back to the hotel early from cerebrating as I was drained and I’d had enough for the night. As I entered the hotel lobby Fedor was standing front and centre swaying from side to side, he straightened up as I came through the doors and looked up towards me. I started moving from foot to foot as if he was still swaying and he burst out laughing at this and beckoned me towards him. As I approached him he lightly grabbed me and we started play fighting in the lobby, it was only messing around however I’d be lying if didn’t say a small part of me was praying he wasn’t a violent drunk and that he wouldn’t snap and sambo throw me on to the cold hard floor of the hotel lobby. If the Truth be told I was actually checking the floor during our ‘play fight to see if there was a softer part of it for me to land on should things have started to go wrong!

After we’d stopped with the play fighting, Fedor beckoned me towards his table which was in a kind of Lounge area with sofas and chairs crowded around a coffee table. I said hello to the inhabitants who were all Russian males that didn’t speak any English- apart from Fedors manager Vadim Finkelstein who spoke good English. Fedor picked up a sports bag and placed it on the coffee table in front of us all. I could tell from the clinging and clanging of glass that his Mma kit wasn’t in it. A couple of his Russian mates went to get glasses & Fedor started to produce these strange shaped glass bottles from his kit bag. What struck me as odd was that none of these bottles had labels on and you could tell that they weren’t bought down the local off license; they reminded me of bottles you might find in a pharmacy. As Fedor brought out all these bottles of different shapes and sizes I could tell which ones were the strongest (or the favourites) by the gasps and applause each bottle would receive. Fedor delved in to his bag of tricks once again and produced a square bottle which had Smokey dark blue glass and a long narrow neck. But what I really noticed was the reaction of the group, as for a second they were silenced- before hushed gasps of shock and Awe reverberated around the table.

Fedor held this bottle up as if it was the world cup before cuddling it in his arms as if it was a new born child and this brought laughter. He poured a large amount in to one of the glasses -I’m not sure if smoke came off the liquid as it was poured or if I’m just embellishing that part for the story, but what I do remember was that the liquid was clear and handed over the table to me by Fedor with great care. All eyes were now focused on the Englishman and I felt like I was part of some experiment and seeing that I know how seriously Russians take their drinking; I didn’t want to spoil my street cred by asking if they had any Orange juice to mix with it. I was somewhat nervous of the drink that lay before me, so I pictured that what was in the glass was the ‘secret elixir to what made Fedor great’ and by consuming what was in the glass, it would have the same effect on me. With these thoughts I threw back my head and downed it in one.

Now bear in mind this wasn’t a shot glass, it was a normal sized glass filled half full (not half empty). As the contents of the glass filled my mouth, my tongue recoiled and looked for a place to hide. The burning sensation I felt in my mouth, then throat, then chest was overwhelming but I’m English and we too pride ourselves on our drinking ability and even if It was petrol that he’d given me to drink (which is not completely impossible judging by the taste) I was downing this fucker of a drink, not just for my own honour but for the honour of England! I slammed down my glass, gave my head a shake and with the machoness I thought eastern Europeans would recognise, I tipped my glass implying that I wanted another one… which was the last thing I wanted. My new Russian friends loved this and patted my head as I ran my tongue over my teeth to check were still there. Fedor laughed at this and poured me another healthy glass of evil.

With that Josh Barnett came into our drinking area, he had fought Big Nog earlier and lost a close decision. Josh and Fedor had talked and straightened out some problems they’d had the day before and in the process they realised they actually got on very well (I knew this as my trainer/manager at the time had arranged their talk). Fedor greeted Barnett like a long lost brother. He pulled up a chair for him and poured him a drink. I was pleased with this as it meant the Russians had a new westerner to experiment on, plus it gave me a minute to collect myself- which was needed as whatever it was that had been pushed in my direction a minute earlier was coursing though my veins and making me blink a lot for some bizarre reason!.

I talked to a mixture of people for 30 minutes or so which seems strange when I look back as there were only three people that spoke English including myself! I was still tired and I had to be up early in the morning for a stupid o clock flight home. My room (which was my original destination) for the second time that night, became my goal. I was saying my goodbyes to all my new friends when Fedor appeared and pointed to the (my) glass which I hadn’t touched since giving it the ‘big un’ half an hour previously in front of everyone. I felt a massive weight suddenly hang over my head again, I looked at Fedor pleadingly but he just held his glass up and tipped it just like I had done. I pick up my glass clinked it with Fedor and once again downed this un-godly liquid. It again felt like I was trying to down hot coals and I half expected my liver to write me a note whilst I slept that night stating that he could no longer take the abuse! Fedor tried to make me have another drink but I’d said my goodbyes and I stumbled off to my room… I’m sure this thing I call the ‘Russian turpentine ordeal’ wasn’t a big deal for Fedor as he was just being himself and I doubt that he would hardly even remember all this, but for me it was a big deal and I love my story and appreciate Fedor taking the time and just being able to have a laugh. For me, this doesn’t make him a great champion…but it definitely adds to it.

Your move, you guys.

Luin ton aikoinaan ja mietin jo silloin mitä toi juoma oli, olis kiva maistaa.

 

[SonnanPoika]

Fedor -The Ultimate Fighting Machine- VS Brett Rogers (Titan Edition) - YouTube

 

[Mauler>Bones]

Rogers kuvasi aikoinaan osuvasti Fedoria:

"I've never been intimidated by anyone in my life. But when we got to the staredown, I looked into his eyes to let him know he was done -- and there was nothing there. It was like I was staring into a void. It kinda psyched me out."

Don't be scared, homie: How intimidation plays a role in combat sports - MMAmania.com

Samasta artikkelista Fighters Only Magazinen urheilupsykologin sanoin:

"The best when it comes to the stare down is Fedor Emelianenko. Watch him: he does not make eye contact and his entire expression is extremely relaxed - you would think he is about to perform a ballet or something. But here is the crucial thing. When the referee tells them to head back to their corners, Fedor suddenly darts a short look directly at his opponent - or through his opponent, I should say. This kind of look is associated with antisocial behavioral disorders and psychopaths. They don't look at you, they look through you. It's emotionless; it goes deeper than skin level. You will get a lot of fighters who will catch that look and suddenly realize they don't want to be there. Wanderlei Silva has a stare-down that makes you think 'this is gonna hurt', but Fedor's makes you think, I might die'."

 

[Marziaano]

Rogers kuvasi aikoinaan osuvasti Fedoria:

"I've never been intimidated by anyone in my life. But when we got to the staredown, I looked into his eyes to let him know he was done -- and there was nothing there. It was like I was staring into a void. It kinda psyched me out."

Don't be scared, homie: How intimidation plays a role in combat sports - MMAmania.com

Samasta artikkelista Fighters Only Magazinen urheilupsykologin sanoin:

"The best when it comes to the stare down is Fedor Emelianenko. Watch him: he does not make eye contact and his entire expression is extremely relaxed - you would think he is about to perform a ballet or something. But here is the crucial thing. When the referee tells them to head back to their corners, Fedor suddenly darts a short look directly at his opponent - or through his opponent, I should say. This kind of look is associated with antisocial behavioral disorders and psychopaths. They don't look at you, they look through you. It's emotionless; it goes deeper than skin level. You will get a lot of fighters who will catch that look and suddenly realize they don't want to be there. Wanderlei Silva has a stare-down that makes you think 'this is gonna hurt', but Fedor's makes you think, I might die'."

Tuollainen tuijotus vaan ei toimi, ellei ole muutenkin fedormainen, käsitettä 'myötätunto' tuntemattomalta vaikuttava Veli Venäläinen, joka juo votkaa ennen, kesken ja jälkeen ottelun.
Mike Tysonin tuijotus oli omasta mielestä pelottavampi. Niin itsevarma ja aidon oloinen.

 

[Mauler>Bones]

"My toughest opponent was Fedor. I couldn't... I was like "Damn.. I don't know what to do". I tried and tried, tried some positions, tried a heel hook, but in reality I was just surviving. It's funny, sometimes you just get KO'd and lose, but in that fight, I was only hoping that it would come to an end". - Renato "Babalu" Sobral

Ihan mielenkiintoista sitä taustaa vasten, että Fedor oli vasta uransa alussa, kun tuo matsi käytiin ja Babalu oli siinä vaiheessa jo varsin kokenut ottelija 19-2 rekordilla. Babalu ehti otella uransa aikana monia kovia nimiä vastaan, mm.Shogun, Mousasi, Hendox2, Liddellx2, mutta Fedja-setä vain antoi jo Ringsissä kokemattomana nuorukaisena kovimmat kyydit

 

[wigga]

GOAT hands down

 

[Japi]

Babalulla taisi olla 1 kovempi vastus ennen Fedoria ja siitäkin tuli kuokkaan. Onhan se selvä kun LHW käy kokeilemassa hevarissa niin onhan se vaikeampaa, Babalu nyt ei muutenkaan ole mikään kovinkaan erikoinen ottelija ollut. Turpiin tullut lähes järjestäen vähänkin paremmilta nimiltä. Keltanokka kahelin se on tainnut voittaa joskus. Tosta kun ottais jonkun perus LHWn vaikka vähän kokeneemmankin, jotain hevaria vastaan niin onhan se hyppy ylöspäin suht vaikeaa.