GeorgeC

Proudly under the GAMMA umbrella, GAMMA Development League (GDL) is back under new management. It is a 2nd tier affiliate, focused on developing fighters 348,000 or younger. We aim to follow the general outline of the #1 ranked organization in MMATycoon, Global Association of Mixed Martial Arts. Please read the following from GAMMA''s Wiki page. Structure Rules3 rounds of 5 minutes Title fights are 5 rounds of 5 minutes 10 points rated per round Fighting in a cage Inactive fighters of over 30 days without good reason will be released Managers which reject fights without good reason will also be released, good reason includes: - booked on a date when your would still be injured or cut. - booked against your own fighter. - booked against someone you just fought. - booked earlier than 19 days from your previous fight AND you still want to train. - booked against someone lower than 1000 p4p places. DivisionsIn GAMMA we have 6 divisions: Heavyweight 265+lbs division Light Heavyweight 205lbs division Middleweight 185lbs division Welterweight 170lbs division Bantamweight 155lbs division Featherweight 145lbs division Booking General- We never book based on skills - All booking is based upon hype and popularity ratings of your fighter - This means that you will under 95% of the cases fight someone up or down 5 places from your own fighters hype\popularity ratings in the GAMMA division rankings - The 5% it does not happen is usually in the case that there is nobody else available within your "range" or as a last minute replacement - Inactive managers (3+ days) are not added to an event - Your fighter will be booked in a fight once every 3 to 5 weeks (usually once every 4 weeks on average) - Your fighter is given 3+ weeks notice, unless we need a last minute replacement and that is VERY unusual - Injured fighters are never booked on the card Rematches- Rematches are very irregular, the only cases we offer a rematch is: a) Your last fight was some time ago (5+ fights ago) b )The last fight was controversial (draw or majority win) c) Both fighters asked for a rematch Title FightsTitle fights are almost always between the title holder and the most hyped\popular candidate, however there are exceptions such as: a) The next in line is inactive for 3+ days (i do not book such fighters at all) b ) The next in line recently lost to the title holder C) The next in line has less than 3 fights on his contract and has not yet agreed a renewal D) They recently fought for the title Note: It is illegal to simply retire while holding onto a title.

Punch no like

Round 2 - Ferele Athram Crunch Time with Punch 12th avenue, Montreal, August 26 In a dingy third floor apartment in an old, dilapidated building on the corner of 12th and Rue de Montigny in Montreal’s Pointe-aux-Trembles, a recliner, frayed arms, cracked legs, skin the color of week’s old piss, is breathing its last breath. It is losing its battle with gravity. The man currently sitting in it, as he has done countless night before, is wearing an alarmingly similarly colored shirt and a vacant stare. He’s a fat man, let’s not fool ourselves here, licking the remnants of chicken grease off of his fingers before opening his third Labatt 50 of the early evening. He’s also rapidly losing his patience. “Lurleen, get off the damn phone and get the kid! I’m trying to watch my programs.” Wednesday night was Lutte Internationale on TV and damned if he was going to miss his wrestling to some whiny kid. “Lurleeeeen!” A dull-looking woman, cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth, flips him the bird and she walks behind him to get the child. “Keep your pants on, Albert.” He was, in fact, not wearing pants, nor was his name Albert. But when you’re of a certain age and you look as though you’re carrying twins, well … hey hey hey. She was a saucy one, his Lurleen. Hallmark couldn’t write a better card supporting marital bliss. The TV screen suddenly went black and he was going to start really cursing when he heard music. Low at first, people chanting, almost whispering. The TV flashed brightly, an explosion of light and sound, making him flinch back in his recliner (poor recliner). Pictures flashed across the screen as the music increased in volume; tornadoes throwing around mobile homes, tsunami’s crashing into unprotected beachfront homes, lava spewing from volcanoes, its ejection crushing trees and buildings. He heard his wife and child walk up to stand next to his recliner, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from the carnage. It was frightening, his senses overloading with every beat of the drum (it was O Fortuna, but he could barely read English let alone Latin) and the screen went black again. New pictures, a wrestler perhaps, were accompanied by a voice-over. Ferele Athram. A man nobody could love and even fewer could trust. What the … the man blurted. A man whose murky background allowed him to commit numerous and heinous crimes. Forgery … Oh dear, from the wife. Embezzlement … Please … Library card theft. Oh dear god, no. And many, many others. His whereabouts are currently unknown because, the voice-over pauses dramatically, no one knows where he’s from! Sweet mother of all that is holy, this can’t be! Lurleen, get the kid, we’re leaving. The TV changes once again, showing Punch McDermott signing a form and diplomatically handing it to someone off-camera. Thank you. Turning to the camera. Hi, I’m Punch McDermott. Local celebrity, Welterweight contender, and all-round good guy. I’m not here to scare you, but only to tell the truth. Because we all deserve the truth. My opponent, Ferele Athram, has built his entire A&E career on lies. He left Florida Fight Squad under suspicious circumstances. Maybe it was that he reached the age limit, but don’t you find it ironic that the organization closed down after he left? Embezzlement? And his first fight in A&E was an easy win against fellow Fight Squad alumnus, Frank Seeble? Conspiracy? Without truth, there’s no trust and without trust, no respect. Something smells funny in the Athram camp, and it’s not respect. September 5, 2020, watch me as I pound some respect into Ferele Athram. Thank you. This message not sponsored by Hell Bent clothing and The Dirty Needle Project

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Round 2 - Ferele Athram August 17, Lobby of the Radisson Blu Plaza Hotel, Helsinki, Finland Punch McDermott is waiting behind a microphone stand, occasionally glancing down at his prepared notes as he waits for the press to find their seats. He taps the microphone and begins: “Arturo Gatti. Julio Cesar Chavez. Sugar Ray Leonard. Muhammed Ali. These are Hall of Fame caliber fighters whose hometowns are real. You can look at a map and find Italy, Mexico, and the Americas. My Round 2 opponent, Ferele Athram, hails from a small community on a small island in the middle of … imagination. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen of the press, Tel Aruhn is NOT a real place! I ask you, good people of MMA Tycoon, if you’re willing to officially lie about where you’re from, what else are you lying to us about? What are you trying to hide from the fans, Ferele Athram? You come into A&E, my home and native land, armlocking this guy, and hyperflexing that guy and that’s fine, it really is. We expect you to beat up small children and invertebrate insects, but lying I will not stand for! I’ll now take questions from the press. Yes, you. The buck-toothed lady in the back.” The camera swings around to the audience, revealing ten rows of chairs (150 in total), empty except for one man. The reporter looks over his shoulder where Punch is pointing, perplexed. Punch seems to be nodding in agreement. “Great question. As you know, I’m a stand-up guy and I’m not one to make excuses. A loss is a loss and it doesn’t matter if you get punched by Niko Vaktoria when you’re not looking, or whether that imposter, Ethan Hawk, hits you after you’ve slipped on some water. I don’t like hitting defenseless people, but that’s just me. Next question? You … the gentleman in the front with the snowshoes on.” Again, the sole reporter looks to where Punch is gesturing, confused. Punch is furrowing his eyebrows, clearly disagreeing with whatever he is hearing. “I’m going to stop you right there. First off, you look ridiculous. Do you see yourself? Are you trying out for a part in Frozen? I take precious time out of my day, time I could be using to rest and recuperate, to spend time with my family and this is the treatment I get? No and again, no! I am not retiring, I am not considering retiring and no one can make me retire. Is there anything else from you useless excuses for journalists?” The one, lone man, tentatively raises his hand, pointing and a brochure in his hand and speaks in halting English. “Free breakfast?” “What?” “Radisson … give free breakfast?” “I hate each and every one of you. This press conference is over.”

August 13 – Crunch Time Near Gate 63, Dorval International Airport Leaving The Loop, on his way to board Air Canada’s 787, Punch Drunk McDermott is talking excitedly on his cell phone. “Yes, Mr. Disney. Of course, Mr. Disney. I’ll do my best, Mr. Disney!” He hangs up the phone, smiling to himself. “Hype is building around Punch McDermott heading into the Welterweight Tournament. That was the second call today I’ve received from a sponsor. First, Dirty Needle called while I was on my way to the airport. The Dirty Needle Project, proven 160Q products, calls me out of the blue, offering some White Powder of Dubious Origin. That’s not sketchy at all! So needless to say, I was flying pretty high when my phone rang again. This time, HELLBENT clothing and do you know what they said? ‘Punch’, Mr. Disney says to me, ‘we want you to darken the skies with the ashes of your enemies’. Well I’m sure I heard him wrong, especially after experiencing the Dirty Needle, but who am I to argue?” He wipes perspiration off his forehead, picks up his bag and moves towards Gate 63. A short line has formed and Punch begins shifting impatiently from foot to foot. “It’s an odd feeling, you know? Not the White Powder, that stuff is just great!” He scratches his arms absent-mindedly. “No, it’s the support I’ve received. At the start of the summer, I was working at the single worst discotheque in all of Montreal, spending all my down-time across the street horking down Papa Burgers and onion rings. And now? I work in the best company with the best competition, and I’m heading to Helsinki for the most-hyped tournament any of us have seen. It’s humbling, you know?” The line begins moving towards the gate. Punch stands still, distractedly combing his eyebrows with his fingers. The man behind him, a middle-aged businessperson, coughs to get his attention. “Voitko liikkua?” “Well, humbling for most people I guess. The younger generation, the self-entitled punks who’ve never been hit outside of a controlled-gym situation. They’re the type to take the sponsorship calls and complain because they didn’t receive enough.” He shakes his head. The businessperson behind him is loudly tapping his toes, willing Punch forward to get on the plane. Tule, ääliö, etkö kuule heidän soittavan meille!?! “The ashes of mine enemies …. This one’s for you Mr. Disney!”

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Punch Drunk McDermott Crunch Time with Punch Note: CTE is not a joking matter. It is a devastating and irreversible disease so the following is not meant to make light of, or diminish the condition. It’s for entertainment purposes-only. In the doctor’s office on Cote-des-Neiges near Westmount in Montreal, Punch McDermott is sitting in his johnny, casually flicking through a five-year old Sports Illustrated magazine. The doctor, a white middle-aged man with impeccably groomed silver hair, walks in holding a chart. His face looks grim. Pointing to the SI magazine, Punch says: Looks like this Johnny Manziel kid is going to be some player, eh Doc? Mister McDermott … Punch, please. Err, yes … Punch. Apt name that one. Which brings me to the reason you’re here today. Going through your regular pre-fight physical, we became a little concerned with some of your poor results and we’d like to run further tests. All we’d need is a little bit of protein, it’s a very unobtrusive … 7 days to go, Doc. Going to be the biggest fight of my career so far. Imagine this if you can; six weeks, 16 fighters, one champion. It’ll be an amazing tournament. And did you know who my first opponent is? The doctor sighs: Ethan Hawk? Yes! Ethan Hawke, can you believe that? Wait, how did you know? As I was trying to say, we’re a little troubled by the cognitive results and … I have to admit, my scouting hasn’t been going too good so far. You know how many fight clips this guy has? None. Zero. Never been in the ring in his life. So what I did, doc, I rented all his movies, watched them over the weekend. Didn’t get me much farther ahead in my gameplan, I guess, and some of those films were shi… Are you always this obtuse? Is that greater than, or less than? I can never remember. The Doctor removes his glasses, pinching his nose. You may have CTE, Mr. McDermott. It can be a very serious disease. Punch blinks once. Then twice. CTE is Championship? Chronic … Transmutation … Traumatic … Energy? Encephalopathy, Mr. McDermott. CTE, brain trauma, likely caused by repeated blows to the head. Given your lengthy record and your, uhm, inability to concentrate, I think we can safely say that you’re … Indestructible! No, no Mr. McDermott, not at all. As a matter of fact, even the lightest slap could … Yes, indestructible

Beautiful work as usual

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http://www.mmatycoon.com/gallery/14/14b18.jpg Punch "Drunk" McDermott Round 1 – Crunch Time With Punch Sitting at a window table inside the filthy A&W on St. Laurent in Montreal’s Milton Park, Punch McDermott is sipping on a Money Inc. Energy drink, absent-mindedly rubbing the cut received from Niko Vaktoria nearly two weeks earlier. Putting his drink down, he looks up at the camera: Its Crunch Time once again, folks. In two weeks, the eyes of the world converge on Helsinki to watch 15 challengers fight for the right to become the #1 contender to what we all know is rightfully mine; A&E’s Welterweight Championship belt. I’ve been receiving lots of mail about the perceived unfairness of the format and even had one letter asking for CEO Dave Ashbourne’s removal. My response was, “Mom, he’s my boss and he’s doing what is best for the company. It’s like reading the ending of a book before you start it; sure you know what is going to happen, but it sometimes makes the journey that much more interesting.” So I’m okay with not being given the belt outright because the journey will be worth it, trust me. Increased ratings, increased exposure, lots of money padding my wallet. He takes another sip of his Money Inc. and frowns. The only thing I’m confused about is my opponent, Niko Vaktoria. Off-camera: It’s Ethan Hawk The actor? Off-camera: Without the E You can’t spell Ethan without an E, dummy … isn’t Hawke nearly 50? Has his acting career bottomed out or something? Off-camera: It’s not … Did you see him in Training Day? *mimicking Jack Nicholson* You can’t HANDLE the truth! Off-camera: That’s not even … Well it’ll be good for ratings anyway. The restaurant manager approaches. Sir, we’ve warned you many times. If you’re not going to order anything, we’ll have to ask you to leave. Wow me and Ethan Hawke.

Punch "Drunk" McDermott Live from the patio in front of Pho Tay Ho in downtown Montreal, this is your host, Punch McDermott, with another Crunch Time. Four days until Ashbourne Presents: Affliction, four days for my opponent, Frank Hartier, to wonder what he did to so irritate Dave Ashbourne that he has to step into the cage with yours truly. I’d be the first one to tell you that on the surface, it doesn’t seem fair; no not fair at all. But when you think of the word, “Affliction”, it begins to make more and more sense. A great suffering, persistent pain. What could be a better example for Affliction than putting a Cozad-Gym-training, no-winning, tapping-out guy like Frank Hartier in a ring against Punch McDermott? Ashbourne Events has been very good to me and I consider it an honor for my fist to be the poster for Affliction. Punch takes a bite of Bún Chả Giò and sighs heavily. Look, I’m not going to lie to you, that was all for show. There’s nothing savage about you except for your expanding waistline. Truth is, I’m not that interested. YOU don’t interest me, Frank Hartier. But don’t worry, I’m a performer. I have a contract and I’ll honor my obligations … but Frank Hartier? Come on. An athlete like me needs to be challenged, needs to be competing against the best so I have something to work for. What is there to work for on the 29th? … maybe I can win KO AND submission of the Night?

Punch Drunk McDermott here, LIVE from Hayashi's Lounge in downtown Helsinki. You know, I'm often asked "Hey Punch, what's it like being a star?" or "Hey Punch, how do you stay in such great shape?" or "Yo Punch, do you believe in miracles?". The first two are easy; I'm awesome and I work hard. Miracles? No, I don't believe in miracles and neither should you, good people of TV land. They're a farce of natural law, science's ugly step-sister, just like my opponent, Theophan Krestovozdvijenskiy. I know, I hear you out there, "Punch, why do you have to be so mean? He's just trying to make a living." Listen, I get it, people love an underdog. Rudy, Forrest Gump, the Karate Kid. But this isn't Hollywood and there are no Mr. Miyagi's here. My opponent can walk around talking about miracles, calling himself The Miracle, and praying for miracles, but it's not going to make an ounce of difference. Ashbourne Events is real life and there's only room for one marquee fighter here.