But Kusch's relationship with Lesnar extends far beyond the confines of the octagon. The two friends have a lifelong bond that predates Lesnar's MMA career, and their friendship has been put to the test on numerous occasions.
He sat on the edge of his bunk, a man built like a failed fortress: broad shoulders slumped, knuckles a constellation of faded scars, and eyes the color of rusted chrome. At forty-seven, Brock had been inside for nineteen years—six for aggravated assault, thirteen more for the prison riot where he’d used a floor buffer cord to strangle a member of the Aryan Brotherhood who’d tried to claim his commissary. The Brotherhood never forgave him. The Latin Kings didn’t trust him. The regular cons just feared the hollow way he laughed. brock kniles
“I’m not a poet because I’m soft,” Brock said, his voice a low gravel. “I’m a poet because I learned that the most dangerous thing in the world is a man with nothing to lose—except a single, stupid, beautiful sentence.” But Kusch's relationship with Lesnar extends far beyond