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I win a couple more fights, then one week during my training I get an e-mail from Dana White who asks me to step in and fight Gabriel Gonzaga on short notice, as in one week. I accept, but due to my training schedule, I step into the fight with only 81 percent stamina. Gonzaga gets the best of me early, but I take him down and pound his face in. He reverses my submission and jumps into mount position to strike my face a few times. I grab his fist out of mid-air and try to lock in another submission, but he breaks free and stands up. That's when I do what I do best, kick him in the face for the knockout win.
I'm 9-0 when I line up my next opponent, Frank Mir. He's ranked third in the heavyweight division and will definitely be my toughest fight to date. And it doesn't look good for Jrob as my sparring partner absolutely destroys me during our training session. He actually takes me off my feet and makes me tap in a matter of seconds. Man, if I can't beat my sparring partner, how am I going to take out a guy like Mir?
Mir even tries to play me out before the fight. I offer to touch gloves once the ref tells us the rules, but all he does is look at me and talks trash. Punk. I get a couple of early kicks in, but Mir grabs me in the single-leg hook to take me down. He punches me in the face a few times, then locks in an arm bar and yanks back until I'm forced to tap. I'm devastated. So much for my undefeated run to the Hall of Fame.
Next fight is against Fabricio Werdum, a Brazilian fighter who is 14-7-2. It's time to get back to basics and back to winning.
|Finally, a shot at the championship title.|
The battle against Fabricio is the most exciting so far. We're rolling around reversing each other on the mat. We're trading blows from the clinch. But in the second round, he destroys me with a knee to the jaw and knocks me cold. I think I was winning the fight until that blow. What a shot.
Luckily, the fight was so good, that I have the choice to either sign up for a rematch or work my way back up against a lesser opponent. Forget that, I want revenge.
And when they say styles make fights, they're speaking the truth as my second fight with Fabricio tore the house down. I hurt him early with a kick to the head and he falls back to the canvas. But when I try to pounce, he grabs me in an arm bar and tries to make me tap. I somehow reverse my way out and we're back on our feet to trade blows. The fight is back and forth for three grueling minutes where every time I think I'm about to win, he somehow squirms his way out only to hit me right back, twice as hard. I knock him down again, and again he grabs my flying fist and locks me in the arm bar. I pound the buttons to escape, but this time, no luck. Fabricio makes me tap. What a fight. And what a fall for Jrob who was once 9-0 and now finds himself at 9-3.
I get back to training and continue to concentrate my efforts on strength and kick offense. I bring in a new kickboxing instructor, and when my next fight starts, I'm back to dominating with my feet. In 1:20, I knockout Brandon Vera with a roundhouse, and Jrob finally picks up the 10th win of his career.
Next fight, I get the win with a knockout in 19 seconds. That's right, 19 seconds. My strength rating is now maxed out at 100 and it shows.
My cockiness is short-lived, however, as my second fight with Heath Herring ends with such a humiliating knockout that Dana White e-mails me after the loss and tells me that if I perform like that again, he's going to tell me to "go home."
Tim Sylvia is the man who stands between me and my UFC career.
The fight goes back and forth until Sylvia hits me with a brutal punch that sends me to the mat before he finally pounds my face in for the win. Dana's not going to like that.
Luckily for me, I sign a rematch with Sylvia, and this time, I catch the big man on the chin, send him to the mat, then I punch him a few times before grabbing him in an arm bar to make him tap.
I then challenge Frank Mir to a fight, and if I win, I'll have climbed my way back into the top five. If I lose, it might be Jrob's last fight.
I open up with a surprise takedown of Mir and try for some ground and pound. He rolls through for the reverse and tries to lock up my arm but I escape. I score a few kicks, but he takes me down and grabs me in a guillotine. I manage to escape, but he takes me down again, this time slamming my face with his fist so hard that blood spurts into the air. The ref calls the fight and Jrob falls to 14-6 with the loss.
|Unfortunately, a title just wasn't in the cards for Jrob this time around.|
But it turns out, Jrob's not finished, not by a long shot. I decide to take fights that are a little further out than I have been, giving me more time to train. I also get my own octagon in the gym to workout on and the combination of these two things somehow sends me into a hot streak. I've decided to duck Frank Mir as best I can and concentrate on fighting other strikers as I'm best on my feet.
This sends me into a crazy three-fight series with my main man Cheick Kongo where we split the first two, then I knock him out with a left hook that opens up a nasty cut under his eye.
When the fight is finished, I am finally given the match I've been playing for -- a heavyweight title fight against Brock Lesnar.
And the fight is everything it's billed to be. I rock Lesnar with some early kicks and stagger him with a left hook to the head. But just when I think I have the big man beat, he charges me, picks me up and basically suplexes me to the mat with one of his wrestling holds. He starts punching me while I'm on my back, but I manage to grab his arm and get him in an arm bar. I wrench back, but Lesnar escapes, rolls back on top of me, and destroys my face with a punch that sends my mouthpiece (and some of my blood) flying on the mat. Lesnar retains the belt.
After the fight, I get an e-mail from Dana White telling me that after so many wars in the octagon, the athletic commission will not clear me to fight anymore after my contract expires.
I only have a few fights left in me, and after I get a couple of more wins against Kongo, I get a rematch against Lesnar for my final fight.
Twelve weeks to train and I'm at the top of my game. Too bad the top of my game is not even in Lesnar's league.
Once again, I get off to a fast start, but Lesnar throws me down to the mat and mauls me until the ref puts a stop to my bloody misery.
After the fight is over, Joe Rogan steps into the ring and thanks me for everything I've done for the sport as a way of ending my career. Pretty cool touch.
I created Jrob big and strong, too bad he has a chin like Mr. Glass. I retire with a record of 24-12.
But like they say, one career ends and another begins as I'm right back to the drawing board creating a new, more menacing me in the game.
If I can learn from my mistakes, that UFC championship will be mine.
Until then, I'll continue to pound the buttons (and virtual opponent's faces) in what's proving to be one of the more fun fighting games I've played.