The "Sandman" continued...

Except ...

"I didn't tap," the 34-year-old says. "I actually kicked and popped my ankle back and caught him in an arm bar."

While you process that squeamish morsel of pushing-the-boundaries-of-pain-tolerance queasiness, keep in mind this isn't new to him. If fighting can be in the genes, he's almost certainly got the pugilistic chromosome.

Growing up the son and grandson of martial arts trainers who learned their craft during stints in the army on the West Bank, Seif (pronounced Sife) was introduced to the game as a six-year-old. Working on mats in the basement of the family home, he started in judo and slowly moved into other disciplines. But there was always something missing.

"I was always interested in a combative application," he says.

He breaks into a smile when asked if that doesn't simply mean he always wanted to fight. The answer, of course, is yes. But never out of anger. Merely as some kind of test of his mental and physical strength.

Still, it wasn't until he was 20 that he actually started competing. His first year, he won bronze in the national jiu jitsu championship. His family and other instructors thought he was crazy to mix his disciplines, but this was about the time the Ultimate Fighting Championship was getting rolling and he was in love with the idea of diversifying and becoming an all-round fighter. Besides, the individual martial arts alone just weren't extreme enough for him.

"It wasn't enough contact for me," he says. "Not even close."

Even when that meant eating a few beatings along the way. In one bout, he got absolutely pounded with what he estimates was 200 or more shots to the head. But instead of being discouraged or angry, he was embarrassed and became more determined than ever to better himself.

After taking five years off following the birth of his son, he returned to the sport last August. First he opened his own gym on Barton Street directly across from Centre Mall. It's called Samir's Combat Reaction, named after the martial art he created. You can spot it pretty easily, mostly because it's the only building on the street decorated with a huge cutout of him pounding the living snot out of some other guy.

Then, with the business established, he began training six days a week for four hours a day. Then he showed up for his comeback fight in better shape than he'd ever been.

"I took him out with a knee to the liver," Seif says of his unfortunate opponent. "Fifty-six seconds, he was out."

Since then, he's gone 14-2, generally taking no more than a week off after each. Though that's barely enough time for his opponents' bruises to turn from purple to green, he says it's more than sufficient for him.

Like this week. On Saturday, he fought in Cambridge. Today, he's fighting in a pay-per-view in Florida. This one's a full Muay Thai event in which almost anything goes, including punishing elbows to the face that are banned in many events because of their ability to open gruesome cuts.

Yeah, it can be brutal. He prefers to think of it as beautiful though.

"It's probably the most ultimate level right now," he says. "You only can't bite, gouge eyes, or kick the groin."






Assuming things go well, he has his eyes on a berth in the Ultimate Fighting Championship or the Japanese-based K1 circuit next. Seif figures he's got five good years left in his career before he retires to a life of training the next batch of guys like him. That's enough time to make a name for himself and collect a few decent purses along the way.

If nothing else, he knows he won't get in his own getting there. On the third finger of his left hand, the letters DBD are tattooed. Death Before Dishonour. His code for living and for fighting.

It begs the question. Has he ever tapped out of any fight?

"Not yet," he says.

Somehow this isn't much of a surprise. If you're not going to give in with your ankle out of joint ... well ... would anything make him quit?

"No. I'd take it until the ref stops it."

No matter what?

"No matter what."

He smiles again. It's the grin of someone who insists that every heavy blow that lands flush on his face is a growth tool of sorts. No, most folks can't understand that kind of thinking. But most of us can't do what he can, either.

Like that fight on Saturday. He won -- you probably guessed that -- but how he did it is a little more remarkable. He ended it in just four seconds. Four. Just one punch to the other guy's jaw and it was over.

One thousand and one. One thousand and two. One thousand and three. One thousand and four. Done. You can watch it on YouTube.

So go ahead and hit him if you really want. But understand there's a good reason he's known as The Sandman.

And you probably don't want to find out first-hand.

Scott Radley
The Hamilton Spectator




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