About a week ago, my jiu-jitsu buddies and I were watching the Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC) 52 on Friday night at a friend’s house. As the cameras panned through the celebrities in attendance, lo and behold, there sat Dolph Lundgren. You know, of Universal Soldier, Rocky fame.
Turns out, although we’ve never met, Dolph’s girls go to school with my daughter. So I thought, “Wow, he’s a fan of mixed martial arts. I’ll have to introduce myself and tell him about our dojo next time I see him. He just might be interested.”
So this morning, while taking my girl to school, I see Dolph there dropping off his, and we end up walking out of the schoolyard at the same time. Arriving to my car, I quickly toss my two year old boy somewhere into the back seat (it’s ok, he’s tough), swing around and announce, “Oh, hey Dolph!” (as if we’ve been buddies for years.)
He politely says hello, and I go on to explain that I’d seen him at UFC 52 (ok, not really bothering to mention that I was watching it from afar on TV), and that I’d been meaning to introduce myself and tell him about our mixed martial arts training center in town, in case he might be interested in dropping by. He says that he’s really more into karate, but, after he returns from a project he’s working on in Los Angeles in a few weeks, he might drop by.
Well great, I say, I should be getting back from my project in Los Angeles about that same time, so we’ll look forward to seeing him at the gym! We shake hands, and say good-bye.
I climb into my car, glance in the mirror, and… no, it can’t be… a huge dried orange juice mustache that my wife didn’t bother to point out when I left the house this morning. Dolph must surely be impressed.