How Tom Won His Fight...

My friend Tom Benesoky emerged victorious from his fight with UFC legend Dan “The Beast” Severn after roughly a minute and a half tonight. It's a remarkable story. I'd like to share it with you.

 

This story starts on Halloween night. I’ve just finished a long show at a shopping mall and Sheree and I are at a Halloween party.

 

“Did you hear about Tom?” one of the people there asks me. He’s a kid with gaunt features and the look of someone who has no intention of keeping their secret. I on the other hand, am attempting employ my usual party-going strategy of trying desperately to melt into the wall until it’s time to go.

 

I know the kid is talking about Tom Benesocky, a man I met a dozen years ago.

 

“What about him?” I ask.

 

“He’s gonna step into the octagon and fight Dan Severn,” the kid tells me breathlessly.

 

“Ah,” I say. “Who’s Dan Severn?”

 

The kid looks at me like I’ve just blown my nose on his shirt. “You don’t know who Dan Severn is?”

 

“Nope,” I admit.

 

The kid shakes his head, face slack with disbelief. “Severn is like…well…he’s a freaking legend. Former UFC champ. He’s a freaking monster. Shit, Dave. Everyone knows who Dan Severn is.”

 

I can’t remember this kid’s name, so I pass on telling him my name is ‘David.’ But he plows on ahead, in the manner people have when they can’t wait to break bad news. “Severn is gonna freakin’ kill Tom.”

 

I feel the first tendrils of disbelief. Tom is an affable guy, powerfully built. I know he’s been doing some mixed martial arts fighting…and I have had fleeting feelings of pity for anyone who faces him in the ring.

 

The kid is waiting for me to do something. Break out in tears, maybe. Or to start wringing my hands.

 

“So who’s Dan Severn?” I ask again.

 

“He’s fifty wins, five losses…the guy’s a monster.”

 

The kid calls up a picture of Severn on his iPhone. Think about Tom Sellick, shorter and built like a brick you-know-what. Later I will see one of many YouTube videos featuring Severn slamming really big guys down on the canvas, generally landing on their heads. Severn oozes a meat-eater’s vibe. I wouldn’t even want to ride on the same bus, let alone be locked into an octagon with him. If it were me, I would look across the ring and very quietly lie down in surrender.

 

“What’s Tom’s record?” I ask.

 

“One, one and one.”

 

“How come he’s fighting Severn?” I ask. I am new to this UFC thing, but sounds like a little bit of a mismatch to me.

 

“No one else would do it! They offered the fight to all kinds of people. Tom’s the only one who said yes. He’s nuts, man. He’s gonna wind up in the hospital.”

 

The kid totters off, looking for someone else to share the great news with. I stare after him. I haven’t really talked to Tom in years. But I like him. I like him a lot.

 

I see him across the room and smile. Eventually Tom comes and sits with myself and my son, Ryan.

 

“How am I gonna beat Severn?” he asks Ryan.

 

I have been astounded at the font of knowledge my son has about things UFC. Ryan begins to speak. Tom leans forward attentively, listening to each word, nodding his head thoughtfully at what he hears.

 

What I know about UFC – or even this whole mixed martial arts thingie – would rattle in a peanut, so I keep my mouth shut during the conversation. But there is a picture emerging.

 

Said picture looks like this: Severn is, in fact, a monster. He’s an aging monster, but he’s powerful and especially deadly if the fight ‘goes to the mat.’ (This refers to what happens when one fighter drags another fighter to the ground and they grapple.) Tom, on the other hand, is fairly new at this whole fighting thing.

 

“Why are you doing it?” I ask him. I am careful with my tone because I don’t want it to come out like “Holy crap…are you freaking NUTS?” I know Tom’s an intelligent man, and I am looking for information.

 

“It’s my last fight,” he says finally. He shrugs.

 

“…and?” I prompt.

 

“I want to go out on a high note.”

 

I am alarmed now, and have already started praying he won’t go out on a stretcher. “What do you mean?” I ask.

 

“Severn’s the best,” Tom tells me. “My last fight will be against the best. It would be an honour to be beaten by him.”

 

I am thinking there are two meanings to the word ‘beaten.’ I am also thinking warriors have a strange way of looking at the world. But I can see a light at the back of Tom’s eyes. He’s thinking that maybe…just maybe…he can beat “the Beast” and there follows a white-hot career, where HE becomes ‘the new Beast.’

 

It makes me smile because I see the eyes of a man willing to dare great bodily harm to reach for a dream. And in that instant, I am totally and irrevocably on Tom’s side. We talk for a long while about things like David and Goliath, and how victory is an attitude and that maybe he can take Severn by surprise.

 

I find myself wanting to fan the flames of Tom’s dream: a fist raised in victory, respect from a fighting legend. But I sense there is much more than that under the surface. I am looking at a man staring levelly at a monster and walking toward it, instead of running away, as all the other fighters have done.

 

I prayed for Tom many times over the next three weeks. I would stop what I was doing and pray. I heard Tom was working out every day. Ryan was helping him train. So was our friend Jason – and Jason’s massive family…sons and sons in law…and friends. Every day. Every single day. Tom is getting stronger, faster…more determined that he can win.

 

I have visions of Rocky, punching the snot out of sides of beef, pumping his fist in victory.

 

*******************************************************************

 

The fight tonight took place in Rexall Stadium, the same place where the Oilers play hockey. My tension rose with each fight card because I knew each minute drew Tom closer to his match-up with Severn. I tried to imagine what it would be like to be Tom, sitting in a dressing room waiting for his name to be called.

 

Finally the lights dim and the announcer takes the ring. He introduces Tom Benesocky and the hundred or so supporters he has in the audience go bugshit. Applause, whistles, shouts. There's genuine affection and support for him. Tom takes the long walk toward the ring. His eyes are fixed straight ahead. He’s totally focused and I can see his spirit reaching out for the dream.

 

I go into what can only be described as ‘hyper prayer’ and find myself strangely emotional. I have the sense that something very noble and brave is happening before me.

 

I snap a shot from the big screen with my crappy Blackberry camera. It’s all I have with me.

 

Both fighters face each other in the ring. This is the point where most fighters bump gloves, it’s a token gesture to show they are gentlemen just before trying to bash each other’s faces in.

 

Tom does something I have never seen before. He reaches out to shake Severn’s hand. There is respect in the gesture…and a certain gentleness too. Severn pauses for the briefest instant and then smiles and shakes Tom’s hand.

 

Seconds later the fight is on.

 

As I said at the beginning, it lasted about a minute and a half. Both fighters wound up on the mat and, as predicted, Severn was too strong…too experienced and my friend Tom tapped out. (This means Tom found himself in a situation from which there was no escape…and had to give up the fight.) In the end the ref raised Severn’s hand in victory and Tom hugged and congratulated his opponent.

 

But something inside me found what I had just seen both lovely and noble. Sheree asked me on the way home how many of the men in that building would have climbed into the octagon with Severn.

 

“Not many,” I said. “But Tom did.”

 

And that is why I am here to tell you that one and a half minutes into a hopeless fight against UFC legend, Dan Severn, my friend Tom Benesocky walked out a winner. He did a noble…and perhaps a very great thing.

 

You’re the man, Tom.

 

I am honored to know you.

 

Congratulations. Consider your hand raised high.

 

PS: (Tom's Facebook page is here: www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000844123322#!/tom.ben... )

Done