MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

Whittier clapped his hands again, his voice cutting through the sounds of the gym. "Alright, boys, let's get back to it, shall we? Time to sharpen up."

Damon and Ivan nodded, adjusting their stances as they prepared to resume their sparring session.

The sound of gloves being tightened echoed in the room as Damon bounced lightly on his toes, feeling the familiar tension in his legs.

Across from him, Ivan stood firm, his eyes locked on Damon's every movement.

The two squared up, and as soon as Whittier gave the signal, Damon moved in first, starting with his favored approach, a sharp, well-placed low kick aimed at Ivan's lead leg.

His shin connected with a satisfying thud, sending a ripple through Ivan's stance, but Ivan was quick to adjust, stepping back slightly to avoid taking another full-force blow.

Damon kept up the pressure, immediately following with another low kick, his Muay Thai instincts kicking in.

He knew that chopping down Ivan's legs would slow the Russian's movement, making him easier to deal with.

But as the sparring continued, Damon found himself stuck in a pattern. Another low kick. Then another. And another.

He wasn't fully utilizing the advantages he had, his height and reach.

Instead of stepping back and creating distance, Damon stayed within striking range, failing to maximize his range to keep Ivan at bay.

Whittier stood by, watching closely, his eyes narrowing as he noticed Damon's flaw.

The kicks were solid, no doubt, but Damon wasn't making use of his full skillset.

Ivan, on the other hand, took the hits well but had his own weaknesses.

As Damon continued to pepper him with kicks, Ivan's response was to close the distance, looking for an opening to use his Sambo.

But his approach was too predictable, he would lower his guard, telegraphing his intentions, and Damon quickly capitalized on it.

Damon threw a quick jab, followed by a left hook, catching Ivan's cheek as the Russian overcommitted on an attempt to grab hold of him.

Ivan stumbled back slightly, his hands coming up to protect his face.

Damon saw the opening and pressed forward, aiming a hard right cross, but Ivan managed to block it just in time.

The sparring continued, and while Damon's strikes were landing, Whittier could see the same issue over and over, Damon wasn't moving enough.

He wasn't using his footwork to circle around or create angles.

He was standing almost toe-to-toe with Ivan, negating his own reach and giving Ivan more chances to strike back.

Ivan, despite his own flaws, wasn't giving up easily.

He managed to close the distance again, this time forcing Damon into a clinch.

Damon tried to throw a knee, but Ivan's grip tightened, locking Damon's arms down as they grappled for control.

It was a test of strength now, and Ivan's Sambo training was showing.

He managed to twist Damon slightly, off-balancing him just enough to land a quick elbow to the body.

Damon grunted but broke free from the clinch with a sharp shove.

He took a step back, resetting, but once again, he wasn't using his reach to its full potential.

Instead of staying on the outside and picking his shots, he stayed in the pocket, throwing more low kicks and body shots, his movement limited.

Whittier watched for a few more moments, letting them continue.

Damon's kicks were landing, but he was failing to take advantage of the openings they created.

Ivan, meanwhile, was starting to read the pattern, adjusting his stance to absorb the kicks and waiting for his moment to counter.

Finally, Whittier clapped his hands again, signaling for them to stop.

"Alright, alright, that's enough," Whittier said, walking over to them. "Good work, but Damon, you're making things harder for yourself than they need to be."

Damon nodded, breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his face. He knew what was coming.

"You've got the height and reach advantage, right? So why the hell are you fighting like you don't? You're staying right in front of Ivan, and that's not where you need to be. Keep your distance. Use your jab more, and for God's sake, move. You're letting him close the gap too easily."

Whittier turned to Ivan, giving him a nod of acknowledgment. "Ivan, you've got strong clinch work, but you're telegraphing your entries. Every time you go for the grab, you're giving it away. Mix it up more, fake high, then shoot low. Don't let him see it coming."

Both fighters nodded, absorbing the feedback.

Whittier looked between them, his voice calm but firm. "You both have strengths, but you're making it easier for each other. Damon, keep Ivan on the outside. Don't give him the chance to close the distance. And Ivan, you've got to be smarter about when you engage. If you can't get inside, you're gonna struggle."

He stepped back, gesturing for them to reset. "Let's go again. This time, Damon, I want to see you use that reach. Keep moving. And Ivan, make him work to stay on the outside."

Damon took the advice to heart as they prepared to spar again.

He adjusted his stance, bouncing more lightly on his toes, ready to change his approach.

This time, he wouldn't just rely on the low kicks. It was time to put everything together.

Whittier watched closely as Damon and Ivan squared off again, both fighters resetting after his feedback.

He could see the potential in both of them, raw, unpolished, but undeniably there.

Damon's Muay Thai was solid, especially his powerful kicks, but Whittier knew there was more to him.

If Damon could fully utilize his reach and footwork, he could become a dangerous striker who could pick opponents apart from a distance.

Whittier had also seen notes on Damon's Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu background.

The kid had submissions in his toolkit, something Whittier knew they'd tap into later.

For now, though, striking was the focus.

Ivan, on the other hand, was a force of nature.

His background in Sambo, combined with his raw power, made him a tough opponent for anyone.

A state champion in Russia was no small feat, considering the talent pool over there.

His grappling was clearly his bread and butter, but Ivan's striking wasn't to be underestimated either.

Whittier crossed his arms as the two fighters squared off again, observing their stances, their footwork.

This wasn't just about letting them fight, it was about seeing where they could be refined, where their weaknesses could become strengths.

"Let's see what you've got," Whittier muttered to himself, keeping his eyes fixed on both fighters as they began to engage again.

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