thedrifter
01-16-06, 06:26 AM
Monday, January 16, 2006
Franchuk feature on James Cottrell (For FEATURES)
Daily Herald
Ultimate Combat Experience isn't for the faint of heart, but 32-year-old James Cottrell has definitely seen harder days.
The Orem resident has been to war, twice, with stints in parts of Iraq.
A sniper in one assignment, the idea of taping up his hands and no-holds-barred fighting in front of a live Sandy bar audience for $150 almost seems like a mundane hobby for the Marine.
Yet there's something exhilarating about the experience. It is primal, and more skilled and disciplined than one would think. Four months home from duty, he has carved a niche in the cult world of organized street fighting.
"You have to have a little bit of everything," he said. "I wrestled in high school, so this type of fighting is a little bit like that. It's about toughness, but there's also a lot of discipline in it. You have to be smart to understand how to win. Like the military, you have to be in great shape. And there's an attitude that you're not going to quit, no matter what."
Cottrell is 5-foot-2 and 143 pounds when he takes on an opponent nine inches taller at Sandy Station, where fans flock to drink sodas and brews and cheer on the competitors. The little man with bulging muscles and broad shoulders known as "Pocket" is more than a little bit of a celebrity.
Men who paid between $15 and $25 for tickets to the fights want handshakes with the daytime construction worker. Women want to take their picture with him.
"Everyone loves him," said childhood friend Mike Nelson, who also serves as the corner man. "He has a great reputation as a first-class guy."
Although Pocket never seems to need a guy to fix his cuts and bruises. His record is 5-1, including the 80-second bruising. His only loss came when the opponent caught Cottrell with a submission-inducing chokehold.
Told you this was tough stuff. But Cottrell was just as vicious Saturday. He heard the opening bell, jumped at the overmatched soul and fired away.
The match ended, and the television crew interviewed him in the ring. The guy with the microphone jokingly asks Cottrell if he'll pick on somebody his own size.
He earned the nickname "Pocket Hercules" back in boot camp when an officer said he looked like he had the strength of the Greek hero and the stature that he could fit in a pants pouch. Cottrell, the champion of his weight class, rolls with the joke.
"I would take on someone my size," he said. "But there isn't anyone."
Good luck finding anyone like him, body size excluded.
Born on the tiny San Blas Islands, he was adopted as a toddler in Panama. His adoptive father, an Army man, moved him to Maryland before going to Utah when Cottrell was in grade school.
Pocket has a rough side. Nelson recalls one time, years ago, finding some trouble at a club.
"James came in and took care of business," Nelson said. "He's definitely a guy you want on your side."
He also has a philanthropic heart, lending his wrestling expertise to Orem High, where he was a state runner-up in 1991.
"Kids ask me about what I do now," Cottrell said. "But I tell them to worry about wrestling first."
Once an LDS missionary to Ecuador, he said he would keep up with UCE until his body "can't take it anymore." He trains regularly at Dell's Boxing Club in Provo, and in Salt Lake.
He may have to return to Iraq. Whatever the Utah National Guard wants.
After eight years in the Marines, he has come to expect trying times.
He's found them back home, too, and loving every minute.
"This is the best," Cottrell said. "I'm just glad to be home."
This story appeared in The Daily Herald on page A6.
Ellie
Franchuk feature on James Cottrell (For FEATURES)
Daily Herald
Ultimate Combat Experience isn't for the faint of heart, but 32-year-old James Cottrell has definitely seen harder days.
The Orem resident has been to war, twice, with stints in parts of Iraq.
A sniper in one assignment, the idea of taping up his hands and no-holds-barred fighting in front of a live Sandy bar audience for $150 almost seems like a mundane hobby for the Marine.
Yet there's something exhilarating about the experience. It is primal, and more skilled and disciplined than one would think. Four months home from duty, he has carved a niche in the cult world of organized street fighting.
"You have to have a little bit of everything," he said. "I wrestled in high school, so this type of fighting is a little bit like that. It's about toughness, but there's also a lot of discipline in it. You have to be smart to understand how to win. Like the military, you have to be in great shape. And there's an attitude that you're not going to quit, no matter what."
Cottrell is 5-foot-2 and 143 pounds when he takes on an opponent nine inches taller at Sandy Station, where fans flock to drink sodas and brews and cheer on the competitors. The little man with bulging muscles and broad shoulders known as "Pocket" is more than a little bit of a celebrity.
Men who paid between $15 and $25 for tickets to the fights want handshakes with the daytime construction worker. Women want to take their picture with him.
"Everyone loves him," said childhood friend Mike Nelson, who also serves as the corner man. "He has a great reputation as a first-class guy."
Although Pocket never seems to need a guy to fix his cuts and bruises. His record is 5-1, including the 80-second bruising. His only loss came when the opponent caught Cottrell with a submission-inducing chokehold.
Told you this was tough stuff. But Cottrell was just as vicious Saturday. He heard the opening bell, jumped at the overmatched soul and fired away.
The match ended, and the television crew interviewed him in the ring. The guy with the microphone jokingly asks Cottrell if he'll pick on somebody his own size.
He earned the nickname "Pocket Hercules" back in boot camp when an officer said he looked like he had the strength of the Greek hero and the stature that he could fit in a pants pouch. Cottrell, the champion of his weight class, rolls with the joke.
"I would take on someone my size," he said. "But there isn't anyone."
Good luck finding anyone like him, body size excluded.
Born on the tiny San Blas Islands, he was adopted as a toddler in Panama. His adoptive father, an Army man, moved him to Maryland before going to Utah when Cottrell was in grade school.
Pocket has a rough side. Nelson recalls one time, years ago, finding some trouble at a club.
"James came in and took care of business," Nelson said. "He's definitely a guy you want on your side."
He also has a philanthropic heart, lending his wrestling expertise to Orem High, where he was a state runner-up in 1991.
"Kids ask me about what I do now," Cottrell said. "But I tell them to worry about wrestling first."
Once an LDS missionary to Ecuador, he said he would keep up with UCE until his body "can't take it anymore." He trains regularly at Dell's Boxing Club in Provo, and in Salt Lake.
He may have to return to Iraq. Whatever the Utah National Guard wants.
After eight years in the Marines, he has come to expect trying times.
He's found them back home, too, and loving every minute.
"This is the best," Cottrell said. "I'm just glad to be home."
This story appeared in The Daily Herald on page A6.
Ellie