MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

"Okay, today we'll play football," Damon announced, standing on the grass field with his arms folded.

The air was cool but sunny, and the fighters stood around in casual clothes and sneakers, nodding along.

There were a few laughs, a couple of light cheers. For once, no one was thinking about weight cuts or rounds.

They were just happy to be out of the house and doing something different.

José sat on a bench near the sideline, still sore from the war the night before.

His arm rested across the back of the seat as he leaned comfortably, watching the group stretch and mess around with the ball.

He smiled, not out of disappointment for not playing, but from the relief of just being part of a team that had his back.

Damon glanced at the players and gave a small shrug. "Let's see what happens."

Truth be told, he had never played football. Or soccer, as he knew it growing up.

He had caught glimpses of World Cup matches on television, loud crowds, goals that made stadiums explode. but it never pulled him in.

He always had his sport, the one with punches and kicks, the one with violence and precision. That was where his heart was.

Still, this was part of coaching too. Building trust. Connecting with the team on something simple.

He stepped toward the field and joined the fighters as they split into two teams.

One assistant coach would play goalkeeper for one side, the other for the opposite. The rest were mixed evenly across weight classes and countries.

"Don't expect much from me," Damon warned, tying his shoes. "I've only seen this on TV."

Max laughed. "Just run, Coach. That's what half of us do anyway."

The game started loose, unstructured. Ayo tried fancy footwork and lost the ball to Elias, who then booted it out of bounds by mistake.

Theo jogged back laughing as Kenji darted up the wing with surprising speed. Someone called for a pass. Another yelled at Damon to move up.

Damon didn't run much. He jogged in bursts, tried to stay near the action, and mostly focused on not embarrassing himself.

He attempted one pass, which bounced awkwardly and drew a playful groan from his team.

"Stick to MMA, Coach!" Ronny shouted, grinning.

But Damon didn't mind. He wasn't here to win this game. He was watching how they played. Who gave up the ball too easily.

Who didn't pass. Who celebrated others scoring. Who called out mistakes the wrong way. The same traits they brought to sparring were showing up here.

And beneath the fun, he was still evaluating.

Kenji was aggressive, fast on the breaks but rarely looked back. Theo hung back too much, possibly out of caution.

Max was loud, always giving directions, and Ayo adapted fast, quickly figuring out spacing even though he said he never played before. Damon kept that in mind.

The match carried on for about half an hour before someone called for a water break.

Everyone walked off the field laughing, a few shirtless from the heat, a few pretending they were soccer stars after simple goals.

José clapped lightly from the bench and shook his head when Damon looked his way.

"Don't even say it," Damon said, breathing a little harder than he expected.

José raised a thumb and nodded. "Good hustle."

Damon smirked, wiped the sweat from his brow, and turned back to the team.

As the rest of the fighters jogged back onto the field for the second half of their game, Damon remained seated on the sideline next to José.

The noise from the field was distant, filled with laughter and random shouts, but it gave them just enough space to talk.

Damon leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. He glanced at José, who sat calmly, sipping from a water bottle, his leg still wrapped lightly in gauze from the night before.

"You feel okay today?" Damon asked.

José nodded. "Little sore. Is… normal."

Damon gave a small smile. "Yeah, that's normal."

There was a short silence before Damon shifted slightly. "I wanted to talk about something from the fight."

José turned his head, listening.

"You did good. Real good," Damon said. "But I saw some hesitation in there. You had openings. Times where… if you pulled the trigger, the fight could've ended."

José didn't answer right away. He looked forward at the game, then slowly nodded again.

"Why?" Damon asked gently. "Why did you hold back?"

José took a breath. "I… see open… but brain go slow. I think too much. Not sure... maybe he hit me, maybe... mistake."

Damon nodded, understanding. "It's normal, man. In a real fight, split-second decisions feel like a storm in your head. But you gotta trust your training. Trust your instinct. When the shot's there, take it."

José pointed to his temple. "In head, I say 'go,' but... body no go."

"That's where we come in," Damon said. "That's what training is for. We fix the gap between your eyes and your body."

José gave a short laugh. "I want fix."

Damon leaned back. "We will. You've got everything you need. Power, timing, footwork. What you don't have, we'll build it. Just don't be afraid to throw when you see it. You're not out there just to survive. You're there to win."

José looked at him seriously, then gave a strong nod. "Okay, coach. Next time… I throw."

Damon clapped him on the shoulder. "That's all I wanted to hear."

They sat for a bit longer as the sounds of the game continued across the field.

While Damon still believed he had a lot of work ahead, he reminded himself that talking about the solution and building it were two different things.

Anyone could say they'd fix a problem. Actually doing it, especially in a few short weeks, was the hard part.

José had been honest. His body froze even when his mind screamed to move. Damon understood that.

Fighting wasn't just muscle and reflex. It was trust, trust in yourself, your training, your instincts.

Damon would have to build that trust with José, and more importantly, help José build it within himself.

That would be handled back at the gym. Drills, repetition, pressure, he had a few ideas already.

But right now, it wasn't time for that. José needed the rest. The team needed the break.

And Damon, whether he admitted it or not, needed to step back for a few hours.

He stood up and stretched his shoulders. José glanced at him.

"You go play?" José asked with a small grin.

Damon smirked. "I guess I got no excuse."

He jogged back toward the group on the field, calling out for someone to switch out so he could join. For now, coaching could wait.