KAUFMAN presents FIGHTER’S LIFE Episode 1.1 The Deair Sha

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KAUFMAN presents FIGHTER’S LIFE

Episode 1.1 The Deair Shaw Story

*The KUAFMAN intro music plays and the camera pans to reporter Vernita Perkins. Sitting in front of her in a custom, over-sized director’s chair is Cage Warriors MMA Middleweight Deair “King” Shaw. Deair is dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt, clearly against his will. He would have preferred a more informal attire, but wiser voices prevailed. Deair is shifting in his seat and adjusting his shirt cuffs repeatedly, evidently uncomfortable under the glowing spotlights, dressed as if he were another person entirely. Being a professional fighter means occasionally putting on adult pants. A fact that Deair was still acclimating to. The camera steadies on Vernita and Deair*

Vernita Perkins: Good evening folks, this is Vernita Perkins with KUAFMAN. We have something very special for you, fight fans. Tonight marks the inaugural episode of our show, KUAFMAN presents Fighter’s Life. On this episode, we will be featuring a fighter out of Helsinki promotion Cage Warriors MMA. CWMMA is putting on it’s first show on October 24 and it’s going to be a good one. Deair “King” Shaw, at just 18 years old, has already overcome more adversity than most do in a lifetime. Tonight, Deair tells his story and we will hope to find out what drives this very…intense…young man. Welcome to Fighter’s Life, Deair. Is this your first time in front of the camera? You seem a little shifty.

Deair “King” Shaw: Hi Vernita, thank you for having me on the show. It’s good to be here. *looks down at his clothes* you’re right, this ain’t me. This whole thing isn’t where I come from. But you know, you gotta pay the cost to be the boss.

VP: Let’s get right down to it, Deair, where DO you come from?

DS: Let me put it this way. Growing up, my little brother and I, we were all alone. Fighting wasn’t about being on TV or fans or *tugs shirt collar* fancy clothes. It was about surviving…

*Flash back to a dimply lit alley. There is a large metal garbage container with black trash bags around it. Huddled in the corner against the bin are two boys. One of them is obviously younger, he is unkept, his clothes worn and dirty. His puffy face exudes cheek bones indicating missed meals in his not-to-distant past. The other, just under 5 ft tall, but extremely rotund. Like a soda can cut in half, with a tiny head plopped on. Upon closer inspection it is a pre-pubescent Deair Shaw. He pulls a five-dollar bill and a tiny pack of crackers out of his pocket*

DS: Look what I got *holding up the bill* Rogelio gave it to me for fighting some kid. We can get…

Little Bro: 4 cheeseburgers at McDonalds!

DS: We’ll have to make that last. In the meantime, I can hear your stomach growling, let’s get into these.

*Deair gingerly opens the tiny packet of crackers. Gently pulling out a cracker to ensure no pieces crumbled off. To the average person, administering such care over something so insignificant would be ridiculous. For Deair and his baby brother, however, these crackers were tonight’s filet mignon. They had lived without for as long as they could remember. As the boys got ready to eat their meager dinner, they heard a cacophony of voices approached. Into view appeared five teenagers. Upon spotting the brothers, the hooligans formed a half circle around them, cackling and giving each other looks of bloodlust. Deair remained surprisingly composed, not displaying any outward emotion. He placed his hand on his little brother’s shoulder attempting to assuage the child’s obvious fright and then stood up and to face the hooligans*

Hooligan: Give us what you got or we’ll fuck you up.

*Deair looked down at the 5-dollar bill in his hand, at the remaining bit of crackers, and then back at his little brother pressed up against the garbage container. As he turned around to face the hooligans, he suddenly balled up his fist and threw a monstrous haymaker right between the eyes of the first thug in front of him. The thug’s body shuddered and collapsed with a thud. Deair used his wide frame and low center of gravity to plow into the two thugs directly in front of him, sending them stumbling back. Seconds later, the four thugs still conscious converged on young Deair overpowering him and delivering a beat down. As this occurs, we slowly zoom out of the scene and fade back to the studio with Vernita and Deair*  

Vernita Perkins: I see what you mean, Deair. You and your brother were only kids. Where were your parents during all this?

Deair “King” Shaw: *Takes a deep breath* Our parents were never really…parents. They were on and off drugs since we were born. Getting high was their priority. Once I was old enough to get food from the fridge, they basically disappeared. Next thing we know, there’s no food and we haven’t seen our parents in days. Then, the lights go off. Finally, we were on the streets. It wasn’t that I found fighting, the fight found us. Everywhere we went, we had to fight to hold on to the little we had.

VP: What happened next?

DS: It wasn’t enough. I’m blessed with *looks down at his ultra-stocky physique* this body and strength. And I held my own against kids my age. Even a few at a time. But I was a child. Taking care of another child. I had to make a choice…

*We are back in the same alley. It’s a few years later, Deair is once again face-to-face with the same gaggle of thugs*

Hooligan: That’s it, D. You gotta choose, you in or out? We gonna fuck you up either way. You gonna roll with us or not?

*Deair looks each thug in the eye one-by-one. They try to return his steely gaze, but it’s obvious they would prefer Deair Shaw as a compatriot rather than a foe. Deair looks back at his little brother in the corner and takes a deep breath*

DS: Yeah, I’m in.

*Before Deair can finish the brief sentence, the thugs converge and pummel Deair mercilessly. As is tradition in such initiations, Deair does not return fire. We zoom out of the scene slowly as Deair is roughly welcomed into this new phase of his life. Across the street from the alley two men watch the events unfold. One man is athletic, with a powerful aura. The other man, non-descript*

Athletic man to other man: Look at that fat kid. He sure can take a beating. I’ve seen him around. He can throw hands. I’d would say let’s help him out, but looks like he’s made his choice.

Other man: *shaking his head* You’re right, Jackson. He made his choice.

*We are back in the studio with Vernita and Deair*

Vernita Perkins: So, you joined a gang to survive.

Deair “King” Shaw: Yeah, until then, every day was a struggle. Every day I woke up wondering how I was going to feed my little brother. We had nowhere to turn. Looking back, after I started bangin’, I did a lot of stupid stuff…a lot of bad stuff to a lot of people. Some deserved it. *Looks off to the side* Some didn’t. At that point, it was us versus the world. So yeah, I did what I had to do. Here’s what makes me different from these other fighters. That hunger, that drive, that got me through those years. I still have that. I’m still willing to murder any mother fucker in my path, any mother fucker that tries to take what’s mine. For these other guys, this is just a job. This is my life.    

VP: That intensity has made its way around MMA social media circles recently. You’ve just under a million views on VuTube. Let’s see this clip, guys.

CLIP ROLLS

*Just as JJ reaches the word “fight” Deair springs forward across Kale and pops Jenkins, open-handed, across the mouth. It all happens so quickly that no one even has a chance to react. Jenkins, mouth slightly bloodied, stumbles off his chair and retreats. Deair attempts to go after him but he is intercepted by Kale “The Legend” Suanders. Kale, at 6’4 270 Ibs. of molten rock reinforced with titanium rebar. Deair, undeterred, pushes forward and they clinch…*      

VP: *visibly amused* Ha ha! Dayum. You slapped Jenkins Jennson right across the mouth on live TV. Hmm Hmmmm slap heard round the world. What have you got to say for yourself, young Mr. Shaw?

DS: Like I said, Vernita, all this *motions around the room* this not where I come from. People be asking me how I feel about join Cage Warriors. I’m honored to be given the chance. But let me be real for a second, I been fighting in cages since I was 13 years old. No rules, no ref, no ring doctor. Two walk in, one walks out. You either walk out that cage or wake up in a pool of your own blood in a gutter somewhere. I look at respect differently than most of these people out here. Jenkins Jennson disrespected me and I don’t take that from nobody.

VP: He’s lucky that hunk of a man, Kale “The Legend” Suanders, was there to save his life.

DS: I don’t have a brake pedal, Vernita. Once the switch is hit inside my head, I just go. But game recognize game. There’s a reason why they call him The Legend. I heard he won the 1974 Siberian Combat Sambo Championships with a broken coccyx. One of the contestants was a live polar bear! If Mr. Suanders says Jennson’s off limits, I gotta take that to heart.

VP: I understand that within the same month in 1974, The Legend was also crowned Golden Gloves Champion in the states of New York and Kansas.

DS: Don’t forget Wyoming, Vernita. He won that one, too. This is The Legend we’re talking about. He basically invented the left hook.

VP: Where were we, you joined a gang, what happened next?

DS: Once I started living that life, the money and the women came with it. When I think back on it now, it wasn’t a lot of money and these weren’t the kind of women I wanted to be associating with. I was 16, what kind of grown women be interested in a kid? ‘Cept ones that want something he holdin. But at that time, coming from what we came from. We were living the life. Four cheeseburgers a week? Naw, now we was eatin four cheeseburgers a night AND FRIES. For us, that was living large.

VP: And here you are, a professional fighter, the gang life seemingly in your rearview. What changed?

DS: *smiles sincerely* It wasn’t a what, Vernita. It was a who.

To be continued… 

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