The MMAFighting.com Blog

Surprisingly Ultimate Start

I normally loathe The Ultimate Fighter. When the series premiered in 2005, by mid-season I was back to watching Seinfeld and Family Guy back to back during that hour to pass the time, rather than exposing my hears and eyes to Chris Leben’s tirades and caring whether or not Bobby Southworth made weight. I didn’t want to see a bunch of wannabes live in a house and engage in all sorts of frat-boy antics, pissing away their opportunities, and talking all sorts of cliche` fighter lingo.

People found the format fascinating though, and it provided a boom the sport badly needed. No longer obscure and controversial, Americans of all sorts of ages and backgrounds got a chance to relate to the athletes of this sport and realize that they weren’t all thugs and career criminals. Sure, the whole MTV’s The Real World vibe is probably what helped do them in, but the fights to advance is what really hooked everyone. Suddenly, you kind of cared if Chris Leben made the final and Forrest Griffin was the everyman tough guy with a voice of reason that enabled the show to make sense. Forgotten in all of that even is Nate Quarry’s presense, a man’s man who like Griffin, seemed to rise above the tomfoolery that was so abound during much of that inaugural season.  I myself even watched enough to know that.

But throughout the next few seasons, I watched more and more sparingly. Ken and Tito were mildly entertaining, and Tito was impressive as a coach. Serra’s resurgence was fun to watch as well a bit later, but after that, I’m lost. I know who the fighters are that were on each season, but as for what happened to whom when during taping, I didn’t care then, and I don’t now. It is up in the air if I ever will.

I am privy to information that not everyone else on Earth has access to sometimes, so a long time ago, secretly, without betraying my feelings, I began to very much anticipate the start of this next season. Last night, with scruples tucked slightly, I watched. And to my surprise, I did not vomit uncontrollably or turn away from the screen. Expectant and weary, I gave in. I was not disappointed.

Sure, Dana White’s comments during some of the bouts irritated me, and Quinton Jackson yelling “Marine!” got on my nerves. But finally, and maybe for the only time this season, justice will be served. They have to fight their way on. I knew so before it aired, as did most, but I was holding out because I figured it would be lame and contrived. It wasn’t. There were too many moments that sparked the despair and energy that should accompany such circumstances in which fighters actually fight for something. Its too smart.

The fighters normally who make the show already know that if they do not get a contract by winning the whole thing that they’ll  still get a chance, be it on an Ultimate Fight Night or finale or whatever they call the show at the end. These bruisers didn’t even have that. If they wanted in, they had to show us their hearts. And most of them did.

The best part of that is that we didn’t have to hear them speak too much. No dragged out weigh-ins and confessionals, no derogatory remarks towards their opposition. Just the sport, just the matches, with everything at stake. The way it should be.

I am not naive enough to believe we will get more of that. In fact, after next week, I doubt we will again anytime soon. Only, this is not just about sport, its about television as well. And in television, unlike MMA, sometimes where you start is as important as where you finish. This, to my unabashed relief, was a good start.

Gray Maynard did enough to win a crucial bout against Frankie Edgar last night in what was perhaps the most evenly matched fight on the card. Maynard came across as the better wrestler, but Edgar still left the ring possessing more tools. It was evident that Edgar was way more comfortable in any kind of half-and-half exchanges that took place while standing, but give it to Maynard, because he knew it. It seemed that part of Edgar’s game had hit the pause button, be it altitude or Maynard’s come-forward style. Whatever it was, Maynard exploited the gaff and exploded with a few important takedowns that sealed this victory.

Kenny Florian looked fit and in control, even when Joe Lauzon had a moment or two. Finally appearing more like a fighter and less like a Somalian, Florian had authority inside that cage and knew how to enforce it. I was also taken back quite a bit by his resolve when he knew the end was near. True professionals know how to show a referee they are closing in, and although a brunt of the shots “K-Flo” seemed to throw were glances, enough of an impression was finally (and thankfully) made to halt the bout. Kenny Florian can be very, very dangerous.

Serra & St. Pierre-A Most Worthy Chapter

Even the sun can shine on the darkest of moments, providing a new scope of light to saunter into. Georges St. Pierre found himself in such a moment that fateful night almost a year ago. An absolutely overwhelming favorite (if there ever was one) to overcome Matt Serra inside the distance, it was instead “The Terror” who grabbed hold of that sunlight (along with the welterweight belt) and took the moment as his own.

Since that evening, St. Pierre has come back to that other-worldly life form we knew him as previously, easily out-gunning Josh Koscheck and then subsequently dominating Matt Hughes for a second consecutive time. Serra in the meanwhile has had to endure a profound layoff due to a back injury, and try to remain satsified at just being the champ…for now.

There will be two sides to this story, two gloves for each fighter, and two journeys that will intersect once again. The summit for Serra this time around will be vastly more difficult to reach, and he has to know that.  He will have to contend against arguably the most dynamic athlete in the history of the sport, a man who has out-hustled and overmatched most of his opponents en-route to a string of windfall victories, and the same man he took apart that so shocked the fishbowl world that is MMA. Just a hunch here, but that man will also be hungrier than ever when Serra greets him inside the ring.

Forget tactics, strategy, and training camps-this will be a fight. It has no other choice. If there is one thing that no one can ever say about Serra is that he ever “mailed it in.” Maybe he doesn’t have the pedigree or record that St. Pierre boasts, however, Serra has always tried to push through and find a way to cope and compete during his career, something he has done better later on than during his first stint with the UFC.  His maturity and resourcefulness have complimented his skill-set, and he knows when to attack his opposition. Serra is going to need all of those attributes in April-otherwise his chances are far more limited. He is going to need to make this a sloppy, messy, volatile drag-out affair where all angles are lost, where the spectrum of colors blend together, where the noise gives way to a cricket’s chirp. Business as usual this is not. For Serra, it is much greater.

Fans and experts oft enjoy invoking the poetic involvement of the word “legacy” in conjunction with an athlete’s career. What were their achievements? Contributions? The biggest question is how do you remember them? Legacies are written by ghostwriters and journalists after the fact. The real truth is that it is the athletes themselves who really author their own story in real-time, and once inside the bindings of their books, we are usually hooked. But the chance has to be there, the circumstances right. Matt Serra was born again with his stint on The Ultimate Fighter, and became even more notorious and celebrated with his victory over St. Pierre. But these events were born on his first second chance. He will not get another one.

Because even if Matt Serra is to fight another fifty times after next month, most will remember him for what he did this next fight, not for the initial victory, or because his grappling team does so well in tournaments. Ignore his out-going and gregarious personality, his grating voice and Long Island mannerisms. He has always been in the mix, lurking beyond the curtains waiting to be heard a different way. He has been heard, loud and clear.

What a unique prospect, to be able to scroll your legacy on one evening. That is asking a lot, I know. But that’s how it is in sports, we look for those nights, those moments to define an entire career. It isn’t fair. But for every triangle-choke attempt and arm-bar that gave way to a career once forgotten and then heralded, perhaps it isn’t the worst position to be in after all.  At least people will care on this night. They just might not the next time you show up, expectant and wanting. The outsider is fickle, forgetful, and betrays no real sense of loyalty unless you do what you are told. Win or fall down. Triumph or fail trying. Just don’t go away afraid. And Serra never has.

Lest we all forget that it is he, Matt Serra, whom is the real champion right now. It is not St. Pierre, it is not Hughes, even if that’s who others would rather deem the crown. Matt Serra, the author, will have a blank sheet in front of him between now and the end of the next contest with St. Pierre. Hopefully, he knows what to do with it. The colors will all blend together. Fans will whoop and hollar. The music will thunder down, and the decibel level will nudge the sound barrier. They’ll enter the trademarked cage where other chapters have been written and read with the pages later bursting into flames. None of that will matter to the cowards who close their eyes to the true nuance on display, they won’t be there to read the story, but only to hopefully sneak a part in the play. Nevertheless, it will be Serra and St. Pierre, pens in hand, urging to scribble hopefully another extraordinary chapter in what has become quite a noteworthy book. Keep reading.

The Web Keeps Spinning For The Spider

The thing about suspense is that often times in sports, it can be just as fleeting as it is powerful. Much like an episode of “Law & Order”, where just as it starts getting good, something in the show gives away the ending, the main event this past Saturday night had the drama, just not the suspense.  Or substance.

Maybe it is always asking too much to see a five round decision (or in my case, a Henderson stoppage well before that point-don’t think I forgot!).  It’s just that aside from the last minute and a half or so of the second stanza, the action was so compelling that neither athlete even appeared to be staking true claim to this thing. But when the fight ended, I wasn’t dismayed just because the guy I picked lost, but rather because the fight itself was over. And given the level both gentlemen were competing at, the premature ending was a shame.

There were two turning points in this contest. The first was the opening round, with Silva not giving in on the ground, and patiently and deftly swimming from his back to ease the assault being laid upon him. Henderson found little, tiny openings that only an elite pro would see, only those openings lasted just long enough to whisper by. The other was in the first part of the second round, which to me was the first realization that Henderson might be in trouble: While trying to hold position and gain ground against Silva while tustling him to the cage, Henderson locked a nice bodylock where he had his opponent twisting to his right, and then up and back to his left (if you have the match on tape or DVR or whichever, look for it). This was a crucial moment. Sure enough, Henderson has it, twists it, elevates just enough, and then…square one. Silva’s body was way too close to the fencing to hit the deck, as the cage held him up. If that sequence takes place in the middle of the ring, this may end up a totally different fight. But the word if is for questions before a match, not after. I reckon Dan Henderson would tell you that himself.

Alas, Anderson Silva did his job-he ended the fight, and since his arrival in the UFC, no one has done that better. It didn’t happen by accident. It was as calculated as it was breathtaking. There was no wasted motion, on either part. Henderson just about dominated the first round, yet Silva never seemed to be in really all that much trouble. To me, that was the true championship performance of the evening for Silva, not the eventual rear-naked choke a round later. Silva waited out the assault, made the adjustments, and then proceeded to confuse Henderson towards the brink of destruction. In an exhibition that wound up being this decisive, Silva not only routed Henderson, but any remaining critics as well.

Let’s not buy into this meaning more because it was a “unification” bout. The Pride franchise exists right now in little more than DVD sales, and Anderson Silva could have been the reigning middleweight champion of who-cares-ville. This was more than any title bout could be, at least in the current context of the UFC and the sport. This match was supposed to answer old questions and raise new ones.  It did that, and then some. Who at middleweight can take this guy five rounds, let alone stop him? Does this all mean Henderson has something to prove now? Two straight losses in the UFC to two excellent opponents hardly sounds a death knell, but there’s got to be more for Henderson sometime sooner rather than later, right?

Henderson showed enough to warrant more serious match-ups if and when he wants them. He has been too good too long to take any real steps back in competition at this point. But let the conjecture begin about Anderson Silva’s next opponent, whom no doubt is out there, believing that even after watching such a thorough victory that he has a chance. Because as of this moment, a chance against Anderson Silva right now is all you can ask.

Tank Deserves His Plaque When He Gets It

I once had a friend named John in middle school who used to fight a lot. During these days, I did as well, but with him there was a difference. John was basically my size, as we were both quite small. But his attitude always seemed a little off. A teammate of mine in the town’s junior wrestling program, he’d go hard in practice, and try his best in matches, but a stand out he wasn’t.  And when he’d lose, he might not have loved it, but he didn’t sulk or cuss or cry, whereas if I had lost, I would have accomplished all three of those in just under two minutes. At one point, he a grade higher than I, John had some kind of dispute with a fellow eighth grader named Darryl. John and I were both about five feet at best, and we were both sixty pounds. Darryl had to have been every single bit of 5’10, and certainly over a hundred pounds. John went after him in class, crashed into him, got suspended, fought him again, got roughed up a bit, and again and again. John would get his licks in here and there, but any contact ultimately slanted towards the bigger, stronger Darryl. After about a week of this, I remember being on the phone with John, and asking him if he was going to fight Darryl again. He had said “probably.” As a competitor, I remember asking him why? A couple of times, okay, but after getting shown up a few times in a row by a much bigger person, why not just let it go? “It’s not about fighting Darryl, it’s about just fighting.” My point back was then urging him to start beefs with people more suitable in size, at least so he can win a couple. And then he said something that I’ll never forget, something that kind of changed me, at least for the remainder of my school days. “A tough fighter doesn’t always win, but he’ll always fight”, John concluded.

I do not pretend to bestow all of these virtues upon one David “Tank” Abbott. He certainly has never been viewed as the smaller dog in the yard. He has taken beatings that many felt he deserved. He’s won matches that many felt he couldn’t.  He’s played almost every role from a destructive and crass villain to a nostalgic favorite, to a cowboy, a criminal, even a sportsman, and everywhere in between. He’s always opened his mouth, but has never put his foot in it, and probably never will. We don’t want him to, either.

A good attraction and a great interview, Tank Abbott has always brought an enormous amount of attention and charisma to his appearances, snapping out his humorous yet classless ethos of bar room thuggery, while at the same time, something about it all always seemed to give the impression that a brunt of it may have been just tongue firmly planted in cheek. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if he had been deadly serious or was just messing with the interviewer, we watched, and maybe cared just as much about his words as we did his fists.

One thing is not for debate, though, and that is Tank’s 1-8 record over his last nine bouts. If he had 100 matches under his belt with at least 70 wins, perhaps we wouldn’t notice that as much. But the big guy only has 31 fights on record in this sport, and losing like that does get noticed. And while he hasn’t fought many scrubs, the losses are significant for the sheer reason that they point out his lack of evolution.

I don’t want to hear about his age in regards to his decline. Truth is, Tank could be 26 right now, and he’d still train as if he didn’t truly care about the outcome. Habits are habits, good and bad. Tank has went through the latter stages of his career either not caring, pretending he didn’t care, or both, or neither. Sometimes, he actually did train. Maybe not with the vigor and professionalism of say, most everyone else. But he trained. In UFC VII, while being interviewed by Jeff Blatnick, Tank tells the camera most pointedly that “you have to be prepared.” Thinking of it now, that was the most humble version of Tank I ever saw. You begin to wonder when the full-bore change occurred.

He’s beaten some foes, none more impressively than his performance against Hugo Duarte at UFC XVII, where he overwhelmed the Brazillian with an ominous attack of flesh and fury in a fight many did not expect him to win. He was beating on Don Frye like a bongo drum before slipping on banana peel and getting choked out. That also happened to be the same night of his most famous KO over little-known Steve Nelmark, whom he bashed against the fence, subsequently sending Nelmark unconscious into a heap of humanity.

And who can forget Tank making Vitor Belfort a star after getting starched by the young and explosive “phenom” in under a minute? Losses started to follow more frequently soon after, but like Mike Tyson, the fear factor always remained. It became respectful to beat him. So Mo Smith did. Tank won a couple in a row. But after a KO loss to Pedro Rizzo, Tank would soon become squeezed out of the resurgence in the sport. He was simply not invited. Sure, every once in a while Tank would do something to get people to start believing he was relevant again, either by cutting through an interview or by showing up at shows and talking just the right amount of edge to initiate a bunch of “what if?” conversations. It didn’t fit. It was odd to see Tank at the Meadowlands for the Ortiz-Sinosic bout in 2001 playing to the crowd, talking with fans, waving, gesturing, just trying to conjure up a sense of notoriety. It didn’t fit that particular night for one reason-his seats weren’t really that good. Stories about it now will downplay it, but Tank clearly didn’t appear that night to be there as a guest of White or Zuffa. To me, he was there to do his own bidding, to try and become a part of the conversation again. The MMA world was just starting to become a skeleton of what it is now, and things were beginning to get exciting again, slowly climbing out of the quicksand that was the late 90’s. Tank wanted to be a part of that. After all, he had helped build the foundation. But he was on the outside looking in, and worse, he was past his prime.

Tank was not safe enough at the turn of the century for Dana White to bring him back home. The UFC was re-vamping its whole image. No longer tough guys in the toughest sport, White was trying to usher in the athlete, the professional combat sportsman. Tank didn’t fit that description, and perhaps deservedly so, the UFC wanted to wait. The problem is that Tank undoubtedly had more to offer ability-wise in 2001 than he did when they finally did bring him back in 2003, where he promptly lost to Frank Mir, Kimo, and Wesley “Cabbage” Correira (whom Tank did avenge in 2005). And aside from a decent showing against Yoshida in Pride and that avenged loss to “Cabbage”, his performances post-1998 are hardly worthy of being hushed anywhere near the term “all-time great.”

Yet, he deserves to be remembered for much more than just his record. He deserves to be honored simply because he came to fight. If Tank Abbott came around now, just starting his career, he’d be just the kind of guy that I think lowers this sport. An example of what it looks like when you shouldn’t even bother. A tough guy who depreciates the sport simply by participating. What he’ll get, he will deserve, is what I would say. What is incredible though is that I can’t imagine more than maybe a few others who have influenced the sport’s growth more. He was an ambassador for it during a time when there really wasn’t one, and he did his part just by talking, breathing, standing still. His buzzed dome, menacing scowl, frayed, long biker beard, and the big, bouncy gut that never once got in the way of a pummeling. You could tell he had athleticism inside of him (after all, he grew up near the sport of wrestling), and if he needed to, he’d surprise you. But he didn’t need to very often. Between the time he walked to the ring and the time McCarthy yelled his catchphrase, you knew what you were going to get: an octagonal version of attempted manslaughter.

From that infamous episode of “Friends”  to his latest defeat at the hands of Kevin “Kimbo” Ferguson, Tank has always made news. The man couldn’t mime without it breaking the sound barrier. That’s always been his strength. Whatever physical gifts he had in his youth were abandoned a long time ago. And while all of his supposed bar-fight exploits he so often hurried to discuss fell on deaf ears to me, people loved that there was actually a guy like that on the screen who actually talked, looked, and behaved the part. At the end of the conversation, it isn’t really important. Tank was a true fighter when there simply were not many true fighters. Maybe he fought for reasons such as vanity, indifference, or greed. Those are usually the wrong reasons for anyone to compete. But maybe that’s not why. Perhaps Tank really did love to compete, to fight.  So should the UFC include David ”Tank” Abbott into its Hall of Fame? Of course they should. They owe it to Abbott, they owe it to the sport. There may be some detractors, a good amount of debate, and even more questions. The only thing one knows for sure is that he was sitting at the table while the cards were still being shuffled. When the time comes, here’s to appreciating a man who surely never folded.

Wagering On The Struggle

I don’t bet on athletes.  I do not. To me, it is un-ethical, if only because I’ll always believe in the struggle.  I’ll always believe in the spirit of competition, and the will to be victorious. If I were to dare choose one participant over the other for the simple sake of my wagering on said athlete’s potential for success, wouldn’t I be cheapening the moment? What would happen if the athlete I bet on lost? Would I be right to sit in judgement of his performance and become infuriated with his existence?

 Perhaps, I am taking this too far. Probably. Gambling is why many people watch games and games of teams and teams they have no connection with, why some lose their mortgages on Sundays in the fall, and gambling has also aided in boxing gaining a corrupt reputation, and has also helped sustain it during points of limited interest.

 I do not preach this from a soapbox. I am in no way suggesting that I have a better grip on things, or that I am more pure,  and I’d hate to come off as self-rightgeous. But I consider myself an athlete and a competitor, and I don’t love the ideaology that the valiant halls of combat become cheapened by those who stand to profit on the foothills of defeat. It just leaves a sour taste in my mouth. 

I also understand that like previously mentioned, gambling can also play a significant role in helping sustain a sport. Boxing, despite every MMA newbie’s belief system, has had other lulls in the past 90 years (does anyone remember when Ring Magazine also featured pro wrestling for a time?).  The gates dwindled, less high-powered advertisers were buying time for either radio or print, and TV rights were hard to come by. But somehow, it climbed out of the mud.  And decades later, I’d be a fool not to believe gambling played at least a small role in just keeping the hull above the swells.  After all, boxing is a gambler’s sport. MMA is too. Um, kind of.

The difference is, that in its young betting life, MMA boasts bettors that vary from a very wide spectrum. First off, athletes themselves are usually pretty unshy about throwing down a little on this match or that, unless they are the ones fighting. Don’t get me wrong, they’ll still bet-they just usually have a habit of announcing it after if they had won. You also have those who never even knew the sport existed until 3 years ago and only watch the big events that show interest in betting on it. 

I have several friends who call me or text me whenever an event approaches asking me “who you got?” It usually goes something like, “Timmy, who you got between Harry Stone and Woody Boyd?” I take a deep breath, give my opinion, and then elaborate on about how I really couldn’t know. I don’t know if Stone had been sparring with Bull or if Carla has been holding pads for Woody and clocking his diet.  If Harry is listening to Mel Tormei to pump him up, or if Woody has had to stay late at his job as a bartender, so he might not be training as much. In other words, who knows for sure? You don’t. That’s why it’s already a gamble for the fighters just to engage in the contest. I say let them be the ones with whom the prize really matters. Aren’t we just lucky enough that they’re there?

But that being said, people have requested predictions, and although I normally do not love to be all cliche` and tout my picks, here are a few that I have procured for the occasion.

As I have stated twice previously, I do believe Dan Henderson overcomes Anderson Silva, most likely before the fifth round. It is just too hard for me to picture Silva being able to do Silva-esque things on his feet, and his clinch surely will not scare a 2x Olympian whom at one time lived his life in that position. You could say “yeah, but there aren’t knees in Greco.” Yeah, but there are headbutts and shoulders, and keeping position. In other words, pretty dang hard for me to imagine Henderson being tooled from there. Takedowns and positioning should be the key as the fight progresses. Look for Silva to understand this and to try to stay outside. That will work, but not forever. Eventually, they’ll have to make body-to-body contact, and that’s where Henderson will have to take advantage. I believe he will.  So much so, that if I’m wrong, please feel free to send comments and emails ripping me apart. I’d love it.

 Herring gets back on the “horse” with a good performance against Kongo, who himself has improved vastly. Tough to say if Herring will fight as if he needs this one, but in case he doesn’t know-he does.

Evan Tanner’s return sees him against a very skilled and versatile opponent in Yushin Okami. Okami is sharp, has some tools, and won’t run. He won’t have to. Tanner will surely want to make an impression on him quickly.  Probably a back and forth battle in the beginning, but sooner or later, one of them will pull away. I lean towards Okami, if only because of my prejudiced that the layoff might hurt Tanner more than help. Either way, good to see Tanner back.

Jon Fitch flies in against Chris Wilson. Wilson’s a tough pro, but Fitch is coming into his own as an elite, and has faced some fire only to come out of it blazing back. Don’t really know if I see Fitch losing for a while.

 And one more. That’s Luke Cummo, one of the more unique and eclectic athletes in the game.  Luigi Fioravanti is a good one, a worthy and dangerous opponent. While Fioravanti is a rugged and compelling counterpart to Cummo’s eccentric mix of striking and groundwork, Cummo doesn’t mind to brawl if he has to.  Fioravanti won’t mind to either if it comes to that.  But Cummo will literally do anything he can to win, and I have seen that too many times to go the other way.

Happy Hunting!

Education For The Casual Fan

Too many times, hype becomes something that we, the buying and sometimes even participating public, can’t control. It starts as a swell, becomes a wave, and grows into a tsunami. But we still always take our boards into the water to catch that wave, even though what was ultimately supposed to be the best catch of the season usually turns out to be little more than a powerful flutter of whitewater. Such is the realm of MMA, and more so, combat sports in general.

Promoters feed on hope. Our hope. The athletes act their parts as the characters in the script we’ll either root for or against, but at the end of the day, its just another movie we saw. Different director, different set, but same script. It has become rare for me to see something I didn’t expect, or be completely satisfied with the majority of the endings. 

   I try not to be a “rooter.” I enjoy sport more nowadays when I do not have an emotional interest invested in a contest. Take Pavlik-Taylor II. I like both, didn’t really care all that much who won, I just wanted it to be a competitive contest between two highly-skilled athletes. That’s what I got. Now if I had rooted solely for Taylor, I’d be pretty pissed right now. If I rooted for Pavlik, I’d be pretty excited that he beat Taylor twice in a row. But since I like both, I could ease myself into viewing such with an unparalleled objective-to enjoy the night.

What I want are more nights like those. I won’t get them very often, as I am not completely truthful: I do have rooting interests. I like Henderson, and therefore, certainly like him over Silva, although in this case, one almost has nothing to do with the other-I simply just think Henderson is crowned champion before 20 minutes of fighting is through. But I liked Kimbo over Tank, and I don’t really like Kimbo, at least not yet. It goes out of order, seemingly.

Too many times, we are ultimately fooled. Remember Tyson from the late eighties? Remember Spinks, Bonecrusher, and the rest? The high-priced pay-per views that would have fans yelling how they dropped loads of money to watch a short night of work for Iron Mike, as if it were his fault? No, it was always the public’s fault, the casual fan’s fault. Bert Sugar would yell up and down how Tyson was going to rip this or that guy up inside a couple of rounds, but more often than not, the so-called casual fan doesn’t have any idea who Bert Sugar is, nor would they seek his counsel if they did. So they bought.

I don’t believe that Kimbo Ferguson is to blame for dispatching an over-the-hill bruiser inside a minute. He did his job, he got him out of there. Tank didn’t belong there, anyway. I wonder if either of them did. And it wasn’t on pay-per-view, although Showtime is a premium channel. But we’re buying again now. And that’s the point.

That’s not necessarily a bad thing. The UFC crams their cards full of pretty even match-ups, so even if Henderson blitzes Silva inside 30 seconds, fans who paid the price would have gotten something for their return (plus, I trust Henderson-Silva will be competitive-I just think Henderson wins with dominance).

As sports often are cyclical, so will be MMA. The eventuality is that there will come a time when a major attraction is the sole reason people purchase a UFC or some other show. And that main attraction will knock the snot out of whomever Joe Opponent is fairly quickly, and people will gripe, just as they did for their purchases of Kid Dynamite’s glory days.

And I’ll never know why. It’s the growing need for the education of the casual fan. How many idiots jumped on the internet after Floyd beat Oscar complaining that it was a boring fight? Boring fight? Sorry, it wasn’t a slugfest, meatheads. Yet, if Oscar flattened Floyd inside two rounds, they would have complained it was too short. Eventually, we will reach this point in MMA, if we haven’t already, mark my words.

The one saving grace MMA has on its side is media. And aside from the TapOut program, I can watch just about everything that finds its way to the tube, albeit often begrudgingly. There is the internet, the biggest medium for the sport. The interest in MMA has been intimate enough to where people of all walks of life have done their own bidding to learn more about the sport, and that is a huge positive, and an even huger advantage over almost every other sport in the country, if not the world. So maybe the casual MMA fan will be a dying breed. Maybe it already is. It is just my hope that they are educated enough to understand that sometimes you don’t watch a movie for plot, sometimes you watch it for the dialogue. The characters in the story deserve your attention, no matter how big or small the part.

Is Kimbo Slice for Real?

Most fans knew that when Kimbo Slice met “Tank” Abbot in the octagon last weekend, that he had a good chance of meeting the same fate as Brock Lesnar did against Frank Mir and 7-foot-2, 360-pound Hong Man Choi did against Fedor Emelianenko - that is, the chance of getting caught on the ground and submitted. But Kimbo’s street fighting fists did the talking and made short work of a totally outclassed Abbot, who tanked in 43 seconds. If the ref hadn’t halted the action for hitting to the back of the head and another stoppage for Kimbo losing his mouthpiece (which Kimbo then hucked into the crowd with bravado) the fight would have been even shorter. Based on this dominant performance, can Slice continue to steam roll over opponents and become a legitimate heavyweight MMA contender?

Well, let’s consider this fight a little more carefully before getting our panties in a bunch over Slice. First of all Abbot’s UFC heydays are long gone. He is 1-9 in his last ten bouts and came into this fight looking even more out of shape that usual. Even so, the bout showed astute matchmaking as Abbot was sure to stand and slug - a style tailor made for Kimbo. So, should Kimbo be relegated to circus sideshow status and youtube stardom only?

Legendary fighter and coach “Bas” Rutten has taken Kimbo under his wing and into his gym. Given his striking prowess and formidable physique, can Kimbo become a truly dangerous fighter on the ground under Rutten’s tutelage? Time will tell. But if he keeps getting matched up with tomato cans like Abbot, it make take quite a long time. After all, Kimbo is a commodity for Elite XC and they’re not likely to throw him to the wolves before exploiting his popularity to buoy up their ratings. Undisputably, the UFC currently has the best fighters and the most respect amongst the MMA organizations, but descension in the ranks in the form of heavyweight champ Randy Coture refusing to fight while waiting for his contract to expire, is bad publicity for the UFC. White tried to cultivate a cross-over contender with Brock Lesnar, but against Mir, a skilled Jiu Jitsu fighter, Lesnar’s star faded as Mir’s knee bar tightened. In other words, Kimbo may be one of the most exciting, if untested, prospects around.

We’ll most likely see Kimbo in against a phalanx of faded sluggers before we get to see how he handles himself on the ground with a real BJJ fighter. Get ready for this lineup of possible opponents, Frank Shamrock, Ricco Rodriguez and perhaps Butterbean! But until the day when Kimbo finds himself facing a joint popping submission, it’ll be great fun to watch him slice through his quarry with unbridled ferocity and his unique asymmetrically coiffured chest hair.

Has MMA submitted boxing?

On a wall crowded with yellowed memorabilia, above a round wooden table worn thin by uncountable beer mugs and elbows, in the 140 year old ambiance of McSorley’s Tavern in New York’s Greenwich Village hangs a faded reproduction of artist George Bellow’s timeless homage to the visceral spectacle of prizefighting - Firpo knocking Jack Dempsey out of the ring.

Sharing ale in the oldest Irish Bar in New York City with a few slightly inebriated friends and inspired by the image of an airborne Dempsey, the conversation inevitably turns to boxing. Not about what’s happening in today’s boxing world, we reminisce. No one can name the new champs, knows who the contenders are or have much interest at all in the sport as it exists today. This, from a group of guys who grew up as rabid fans during an era when the heavyweight contenders read like a who’s who of all time boxing greats, Kenny Norton, Gerry Quarry, Jimmy Ellis, Joe Frasier, George Foreman and of course, Mohammed Ali. Not to mention the other division fighters like Hearns, Hagler, Sugar Ray Leonard, “the Beast” Mugabi and Roberto Duran. We grew up in a golden age when fights mattered and champions held worldwide recognition as elite superstars.

So what happened? Are we a bunch of old farts living in the past? Or has MMA single handedly KO’ed “the sweet science”?

In truth, a number of circumstances conspired to defeat boxing as the premier combat sport -greed, Don King, pay-per-view and the escalation of violence in our society perpetuated by films and video games, along with the growth and popularity of MMA.

It’s hard to separate sheer avarice and the vertically coiffed Don King, but the TV networks and other promoters are equally guilty for robbing boxing’s seemingly endless till. However, Don King led the way. He slowed the pacing of events, scheduling big fights less frequently and for bigger purses. He squelched the careers of potential fighters by squeezing them out of fights unless they signed with him, effectively controlling who got the big fights and when, for his own personal monetary gain, all to the detriment of the fighters and the fans.

When Tyson was on his meteoric rise to fame he fought under a multiple bout contract with ABC the bouts were televised live and free, some scheduled only two weeks apart. Pay-per-view began to change this easy accessibility. As the best bouts became a commodity, it prevented the average Joe from seeing the fighters and thus began to diminish the number of future fans even further.

CGI (computer graphic imagery) has evolved to such a degree that it is now possible to create realistic depictions of impossible physical feats on film. Movie heroes can leap through windows and off of buildings, tumble beneath Mack trucks and dodge bullets, fight with the speed of hummingbirds wings against fifty foes and afterwards, brush off their shirts and walk away unscathed. Such are the amped up expectations of today’s society and boxing pales in comparison. The rules that govern professional boxing where drawn up in 1867 by the Marquess of Queensberry and are as obsolete as they sound next to the Terminator, Kill Bill and 300 digital Spartans.

Enter MMA. It all began, unlikely enough, in Brazil. Not content to relax on some of the world’s most beautiful beaches, Carlos and Helio Gracie were busy improvising on traditional Jiu Jitsu and developing a no-holds-barred fighting style incorporating ground fighting and strikes. They honed this new art form in their Vale tudo martial arts tournaments starting in the 1920s and later the rest of the Gracie brood continued on in the family tradition. Elsewhere in the world, Antonio Inoki hosted some of the first mixed martial arts matches in Japan in the 1970s. These matches combining various combat disciplines appeared crude and unsavory to some boxing fans - like glorified street fighting. Nevertheless, it began to gain converts and popularity in the late 1960s and early 1970s with the emergence of martial artist turned movie star, Bruce Lee and his theories of mixing martial art styles. To many, it still seemed like Hollywood fluff. The sport finally gained international exposure and widespread credibility in America in 1993, when Brazilian Jiu Jitsu fighter Royce Gracie (that’s right, from the original family that invented this style of fighting) dominated the Ultimate Fighting Championship and sparked a revolution. In Japan, continued interest in the sport resulted in the creation of the Pride Fighting Franchise in 1997.

The UFC was hatched in 1993 and ironically the promotion of the violent aspects of the sport proved its undoing. On the verge of bankruptcy in 2001, the franchise was purchased for a mere two million dollars by Casino moguls Frank and Lorenzo Fertitta guided by the persuasive Dana White. Reinvigorated by Dana and the marketing power of the Ultimate Fighter reality show on Spike TV, the UFC reached a new pinnacle of popularity in 2006 with the re-match between then light-heavyweight champion Chuck “The Iceman” Liddell and former champion Tito Ortiz that rivaled the pay-per-view sales of some of the biggest boxing events of all time. Boxing’s appeal had wilted, along with Don King’s afro. But is it ready to tap out?

Boxing pundits and longtime ABC and now HBO boxing commentator Jim Lampley have said that boxing is dead, but die-hard adherents still refuse to embrace MMA. I’ve heard people say, “who wants to watch those guys punching and elbowing each other on the ground? It’s Barbaric!” Folks who grew up with the simplicity of the jab, the hook and the uppercut face a steep learning curve with the complexity of MMA moves and nomenclature. The biggest developments in recent boxing history have been thumb-less gloves and the rope-a-dope. To get up to speed, fledgling MMA fans must contend with toe hooks, Kimuras, arm bars, guillotines and Superman punches, butterfly guard, X guard and rubber guard, not to mention the omoplata, monoplata and gogoplata! No, those last three aren’t a trio of Jabba the Hut’s assassins, but a series of pretzel-like arm holds executed with the legs of a fighter in guard. See what I mean about the alienation factor? Even so MMA continues to gain loyal fans and garner reportage by the mainstream press. Fueled by athletic fighters, slick promotion, furious matches and a competitive atmosphere not felt since Mike Tyson cleaned up the heavyweight division in the 1980’s, MMA and the UFC are writing the latest chapter of pugilistic competition, formerly reserved for boxing to dictate.

Fast forward twenty years…will the painting of Firpo and Dempsey in McSorley’s be replaced by a picture of BJ Penn’s son Darth submitting his opponent with a mind-blowing gogoplata or will Mr. White and the UFC repeat the mistakes that spelled boxing’s demise? Time will tell, but until then, that iconic image of the flying Dempsey remains forever suspended in the hearts and minds of a generation of boxing fans, along with the fate of their beloved sport.

Lesnar Fails To Get Hand Raised, But Still Makes Impression

Brock Lesnar appeared in three different versions on Saturday night: Nervous, explosive, and inexperienced. But that is what match-ups are all about, it is what match-ups are supposed to do-create mismatches. And while this wasn’t exactly BJ Penn tapping out a volleyball coach, make no mistake about it: This was a mismatch.

 It should have been. Frank Mir was not supposed to find a moment in the fight to swing his hips out from underneath big and burly Lesnar to find an angle for a submission attempt. Heck, no. He was supposed to get taken to his back and stuck there while Lesnar pounded his face into meatloaf on the way to a sloppy stoppage victory.

I knew that Mir had a chance, but that it was going to be dicey, and if there were anyway Mir was going to come out of it victorious, it would have to have been from his back. Not rocket science. However, although Lesnar lost to Mir in pretty much the only way I could’ve pictured it, he still looked pretty impressive. His inexperience showed as he caught Mir’s leg to take him down (is it 1997 all over again?), and obviously by posturing up a little too much prior to the kneebar. But he moved quickly, decisively, and besides the gaff he committed with the rabbit punching, appeared on all levels to be a legitimate MMA fighter.

But the big guy is in a difficult spot. The real only way to grow this man into a star (or champion, depending on what you deem important), he needs more ring time and less show time. It is not likely that Dana White is going to stick him in a dark match against some ham-and-egger to build up some Lesnar capital. Instead, White will try to push him against some medium-level heavies and cross his fingers that Lesnar pulls off a couple of wins in a row. Either way, there’ll be more than enough Brock to go around.

Mir made himself a part of the argument again. He may need a little more time, a little more confidence, and to look a bit tighter physically. But either way, Mir seems poised for what could be a rebirth for his career. Mir is an interesting factor in the heavyweight division. Maybe Vera-Mir 2 is not a bad idea. But who knows? Maybe Mir-Nogueira is just as likely, which really isn’t all that bad of a thought to creep in. Right now, I suppose it doesn’t entirely matter. For the first time in a long time, Frank Mir got to rest contently and proudly as the late night slumber consumed the Vegas air, visions of a better time not seeming so long ago anymore, and perhaps even more, not that far away. All’s a fighter wants is a chance. Mir’s working on his second, and so far, so good.

Anderson Silva’s, Couture’s, and Rodrigo’s Merits for P4P Greatness

Anderson Silva is considered by many to be the #1 p4p fighter in the world because:

1) He’s a PHENOMENAL striker, widely considered the best in MMA.
2) He’s very well-rounded. He’s very good on the ground also, having received his Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu black belt from ‘Rodrigo’ Nogueira, one of its best practitioners.
3) He’s in the rare group of fighters who seem to be improving with every fight. In each of his recent fights he seems to either showcase new skills, or show improvement in the skills he was already known for.
4) He’s a very smart fighter who learns from his mistakes, the kind who will seldom, if ever, beat himself.

But his bread and butter is his striking. His reach, quickness, creativity, power, timing, and accuracy are unparalleled. Witness his 49 second demolition of iron-chinned Chris Leben, his two-time destructions of the very good former champion Rich Franklin, one of which lasted less than 3 minutes, the reverse-elbow (yeah that’s right, ‘reverse-elbow’, I said the guy is creative ☺) that he knocked Tony Fryklund out with, and the fight-ending strikes he delivered to the very good Nate Marquardt, in which he displayed his reach by connecting with the grounded Marquardt from an upright position. His Muay-Thai is positively frightening and his clinch deadly, as shown in the Franklin fights. Unlike many great strikers he doesn’t show any fear of being taken down, routinely going for more risky strikes such as flying knees. Opponents who have taken him down confront a very fluid, flexible, and constantly shifting guard. His great chin and unorthodox movement make it very hard to land on him solidly from the mount. He has dangerous up-kicks off his back, and good submissions, like the triangle choke he submitted BJJ specialist Travis Lutter with. In general, if opponents take him to the ground, they either don’t make headway with him and the ref stands it back up, or they themselves are in danger of submissions and strikes while in the mount. This versatility, combined with his continuous improvement (see the 2nd Franklin fight, Franklin definitely improved his clinch defense, but Silva improved also, and still was able to hurt him significantly in that position) and overall, chess master-like ring intelligence (he doesn’t seem to make major mistakes, and on the other hand, exploits the ones his opponents make immediately and ruthlessly) make him a very popular choice for the world’s p4p best.

Randy Couture is a tenacious, smothering-type fighter who’s a great wrestler, has a tremendous clinch, and good striking. He’s also one of the best fighters ever at devising a great game plan to beat an opponent. He’s beaten great strikers like Chuck Liddell and Tim Sylvia, great wrestlers like Kevin Randleman and Tito Ortiz, and great Jiu-Jitsu artists like Gabriel Gonzaga. He’s made a career out of fighting much-favored opponents and beating them. Currently 44, Couture is always in tremendous shape, and routinely out-hustles and has better stamina than much younger fighters. He’s superb at imposing his will and getting others to fight his fight, and once he obtains a clinch, he’s very good at using “Dirty Boxing” (a technique which involves strikes to your opponent while you have a hold of him in a clinch), and also scoring takedowns and ground ‘n pounding. He does a very good job at controlling larger and stronger foes. He holds wins over Vitor Belfort, Pedro Rizzo, and Jeremy Horn, along with the aforementioned fighters. Although primarily known for his strong wrestling base, he has often out-boxed “better” strikers in order to get close enough to secure a clinch, as shown in the first Liddell fight and against Sylvia, the latter case being even more amazing because the 6’8”, 265 pound Sylvia completely dwarfed him. Against Ortiz, he took the feared wrestler down almost at will and dominated the entire fight. Against Gonzaga, a much more naturally bigger man and a well rounded fighter whose great Jiu-Jitsu and good striking were supposed to be a bad match-up, he controlled him and bullied him around the Octagon, before scoring a third round TKO. As well-respected by his peers as any fighter in the world, Couture is considered a P4P great because you can NEVER count him out against ANYONE.

When legendary MMA fighter Antonio “Rodrigo” Nogueira was ten, he was run over by a truck and almost died. He was in a coma for four days. He lost a rib and part of his liver, and was hospitalized for eleven months. So you could make the case that he’s been a fighter his whole life, in many more ways than just MMA. A world-renowned Jiu-Jitsu practitioner, he’s also a frequent sparring partner of UFC champion Anderson Silva, the best striker in the sport. So unlike many Jiu-Jitsu specialists, he’s good enough in that aspect to be a pretty well-rounded fighter. Ranked as the #2 Heavyweight in the world by many in the industry, he’s beaten a “Who’s Who” of MMA, including Mirko “Cro-Cop” Filipović, Josh Barnett, Dan Henderson, Mark Coleman, Fabricio Werdum, Ricco Rodriguez, and Jeremy Horn. He’s been ranked in the top 3 for many years, and before being beaten by Fedor Emelianenko, who’s now considered to be the world’s best fighter, he was Pride’s champion, and the one who was considered unbeatable. In many ways, one can measure him by what he’s never done, in 36 fights he’s never been stopped by anyone. In fact, he’s only lost 4 times at all, and only twice to anyone not named Fedor. Rodrigo’s success is a testament to the fact that he never stops coming, and never loses faith in the ability of his Jiu-Jitsu to end a fight at any time, from any position. He’s known for an ability to withstand unbelievable punishment and still come back to win, as he did against Cro-Cop, and the monstrous Bob “The Beast” Sapp, a man who outweighed him by 150 pounds. On the ground, Rodrigo runs a never-ending submission clinic on opponents, if they happen to get out of one, he fluidly transitions into another, and another, and another, until one finally sticks. He’s a fighter we’ve learned to never consider out of a fight, and his all-around versatility, terrific Jiu-Jitsu, and limitless courage are all reasons he’s considered a P4P great.