Note: Igor Karaev, better known as TSGIGOR to many on the Internet, was voted 2009′s “UGer of the Year” on MixedMartialArts.com for his incredible photos of, and access to, MMA legend Fedor Emelianenko. Special thanks to Nathan Johnson for providing his recent discussions with Igor.

In February 2009, Igor Karaev began posting on “The UnderGround,” an Internet discussion forum dedicated primarily to the sport of Mixed Martial Arts [1]. His first communication was met with a range of reactions, but much of it amounted to this: impatient and annoyed disbelief. After all, the man claimed to be a personal friend of Fedor Emelianenko, arguably the most dominant competitor in the history of the sport of MMA. Oops, I was one of those impulsive doubters. But it turns out that Igor is the real deal. And so, for the first time, fans of MMA have regular access to that living legend. Fedor. A man previously thought to be mostly inaccessible and tucked into some training bunker in distant Stary Oskol, Russia.

Igor is a Russian speaker, and he has been largely dependent on the use of online translators when communicating to international fans. To some degree, that process has restricted his ability to express himself fully. But Igor and I share a mutual friend, Ilya Zakharov, an English-speaking Russian native who has been studying in Canada. Ilya has made a conversation with Igor possible, and I’m honored to have had the opportunity to receive an unhindered expression of Igor’s experience in the realm of MMA.

I’ve heard it suggested that there is something superficial about Internet-based relationships, as the web coldly digitizes away the nostalgia of things like handwritten letters and rocking chair conversations. I get that modern anxiety, but my communications with Igor are making me rethink that sweeping reaction. The following is a discussion that we’ve had through Ilya over the last few months.

Nathan: How long have you been involved with the sport of Mixed Martial Arts, or Russian Sambo?

Igor: I started when I was 14. It was in Kiev (Ukraine) where I was going to school. However, I started in Judo, back in those days (70s) there was barely any difference between the two in competitions. Then came karate, followed by kung fu. It was quite “cool” and secretive. Getting into a karate dojo was very hard in those days. I was lucky. I was also lucky with the trainers. Most of what I learned in my youth in martial arts came in handy throughout my life. There were many different situations. I have served 2 years in the army and went on to study in the medical faculty of the University of Moscow. So academically – I’m a doctor. The studies were taking up a lot of time, but I kept going to the gym. It was a time when karate was forbidden in the USSR.

The beginning of the Perestroika was around the same time as I was finishing my studies. All the bans on martial arts were lifted, but at that time I already had a family that needed to be fed. I had to move the sport aside and start working on a business. But I consistently kept in contact with the sport and most of my friends, who ended up being great athletes, not only in martial arts. It’s only the last five years that I’ve really dedicated myself to martial arts, as I have acquired some free time. I’m aware that in my 50 years of age it’s too late to come back to the ring, but I keep doing it to stay in shape.

Nathan: Prior to the dawn of Perestroika, what were the consequences if the authorities discovered that you were training Martial Arts in the USSR?

Igor: They could throw you in jail. Some trainers were thrown in jail specifically for practicing eastern martial arts, that or they would find a different clause to put the person behind the bars. Something similar to “propagating violence.”

Nathan: The sport of Mixed Martial Arts is relatively young in America, and government bans have gradually been lifted. Do you remember what that transition was like for you, and how it affected people in your country?

Igor: Honestly speaking, I didn’t notice an actual transition. The knowledge came about that the only way to succeed in martial arts was through hard work, that there’s not really any “secret moves” that somebody new to training could walk in and pick up in a week. We have a lot of different trainers giving lessons in a lot of different martial arts, where they offer to turn you into Superman on the streets in a very short period of time.

Nathan: What do you believe is the key to supporting the continued development of Russian MMA?

Igor: That’s a very serious question, a fundamental one you can say. There’s no governmental support for MMA in Russia. But there is a basic preparation in the form of serious Sambo, Judo and Boxing schools that have been available since the USSR times.

Nathan: Have you personally done any training?

Igor: I try to go to the gym 2-3 times a week. To be honest though, my old injuries are already starting to show. Also I should protect and be more cautious about my head, that’s what my wife says. (smiles)

Nathan: What is your relationship with Fedor Emelianenko, his brothers Aleks and Ivan, and the Red Devil team?

Igor: I would like to start by saying that there are a lot of people that call Fedor a friend, when they may have only seen him once and took a picture that time, I would like to say the following: I respect those people. I know Fedor very well. I see Aleks quite frequently as well; he has a great family and a wonderful wife. Sasha (Aleksander Emelianenko) recently gave Olga a York terrier – my wife has the same tiny dog. Ivan is a young fighter; he’s already won a championship in St-Petersburg in combat Sambo. He’s practically everywhere with Aleks, always helping him out at competitions and gatherings (which is where I frequently see them). So we have a lot in common.

Nathan: How long have you known Fedor, and were you able to observe him and his brothers as they began training and matured into their accomplished careers?

Igor: I’ve known Fedor as a fighter for a very long time. As a friend and excellent comrade, for a bit over a year. I brought over a young fighter from Moscow to the Red Devil team in Stary Oskol, Alexander Volkov. Once there, I met Fedor and got to know him personally. Since then, we commonly see each other, sometimes in Leningrad, sometimes in Oskol, sometimes in Moscow. The last time I went over to Stary Oskol, last summer, I was personally invited by Fedor to stay at his place. I had the privilege of seeing his life outside of his training. I must say that Fedor’s life is dedicated to one thing: the Path of the Warrior. He is a true Warrior-Fighter, beginning with his rest and ending with his relation with life and the environment around him.

Nathan: Was Fedor’s success surprising to you?

Igor: No, it was not surprising at all. I always get a certain pleasure from seeing him win. Those victories are always the result of a long, hard, and even harder road of preparation before the fights.

Nathan: Why did you decide to become involved in posting messages on English-speaking Internet forums like MMA.tv?

Igor: It was quite random. This is where I would like to express my greatest thanks to Mr. Kirik Jenness. I still remember my first post “O Stary Oskol”, which I translated through a computer translator and posted on the UG. The people on the forum were very harsh and rough. But they were also smart, and as time has shown, talented and grateful.

In short right, I was pushed away from the get go. Mister Kirik stopped me and now we have what we have. I have a lot of information about my favorite combat art. And it’s in my character to give and share. But I wanted to give for a good cause. That cause happened to be there, in the UnderGround. There’s also a lot of very interesting information that helps me understand the global/world view of MMA and its development. Plus, on our side, there are really not that many Russian MMA sites, where the issues of the sport are being discussed. And the few that are there, mostly take all the information from the foreign sites, without ever giving anything back (outside of the rare exceptions). In short, I have taken up this role of popularizing MMA in Russia and USA, and thankfully there have been enough possibilities for that.

Nathan: You’ve said that your time on the UnderGround has helped you to have a better understanding of the world’s view of MMA. Is there anything unique about the Russian approach to MMA and business that is important for international fans to understand?

Igor: This combat sport is fairly young in Russia. Your foundation (the USA’s) gives us the possibility to possibly avoid the mistakes that have happened elsewhere in its evolution. I would like to hope so. I doubt that there’s anything unique, is it all big, hard work over a long time. Daily work, essentially, like elsewhere in the world.

Nathan: Did you start communicating with international fans on your own, or were you prompted to do so by Fedor or by someone else?

Igor: On my own, of course, I’m completely independent. I really like this; it’s for my heart and soul. If you pay attention you know that my information isn’t exclusively about Fedor, but also about a lot of other fighters from our corners that I know personally. I have always respected people that did their job well, people that have made themselves – that didn’t show up to something that was ready from daddy or mommy; mostly as a consequence of being around pretentious “geniuses” of business and arts. There are plenty of examples, on both sides of the world.

Nathan: Do you post on any other American Internet forums?

Igor: No, in the last while I have mainly focused on the UnderGround and the Russo-phone forum mixfight.ru. Although I browse several foreign sites, I rarely leave messages. Back in the day, I registered on several American sites. There are a lot of great sites on MMA overseas. For now, this forum is interesting to me.

Nathan: Have you noticed any differences between fans in America and fans in Russia?

Igor: There’s no difference, the age aside perhaps. In Russia, the higher limit of the bracket is younger, and extremely motivated. The styles of the arts are still very young here, as opposed to the states. There lies the difference.

Nathan: Why do you believe young Russians are so motivated, and what sorts of exceptional habits do they have in training?

Igor: For a lot of young guys it’s a means to make money for a living, doing something they love. There are different specific cases, but there’s a lot of them, and in each unique case, there’s a unique program.

Nathan: Is there anything else that you would like to communicate to international fans of MMA?

Igor: Peace in the world. I wanted to send my respects and bow to all of my friends, and everybody that loves and values MMA. Thank you all for your support and your love towards this type of combat sport.

Related Fedor Emelianenko Matches:
Official Fedor Emelianenko Clothing
Entirely Indisputable World MMA Rankings

1 The UnderGround can be found in the “Forum” section of MixedMartialArts.com and Igor’s more recent thread entitled “FEDOR !” can be found on the UG here.

“You know, you almost had me there because I had no strength left in my hands, but then I popped my hips back in.”

I had two thoughts. First, it was obvious that these guys were experiencing a genuine residual happiness related to the fact that they’d just engaged in a form of expression that was primarily mental and calculating, and only secondarily manifest as a series of outward physical movements. But here’s the other thing: as an MMA fan, I realized that I’ve been watching and enjoying a sport that I’ve never fully understood.

The Idea
This is what it comes down to: I get what high-level MMA competitors are trying to ultimately accomplish, but I don’t understand how they’re getting there. As embarrassing as it is, I realize what kind of fan I am. I’m that guy who watches UFC pay-per-views at a local bar, offering linguistic services to oblivious strangers who somehow know less than I do. So I say things like “He’s got him in half guard”, or “He’s cross-sides”, or “He’s passing! He’s passing!”, or even “Chuck has mount! The Iceman has mount! It’s a miracle! Release the hounds!” But I say those things without having a clue about how the fighter strategically transitioned himself into that position. I’ve taken real pride in yelling things like “Armbar! Armbar!” while sloshing around my pitcher of Grain Belt Premium without having a farting HINT if the submission was actually available from a particular position. That’s the kind of pathetic fan that I’ve been. But no more. Not me.

If the only thing that I get out of training is the ability to watch a fight and enjoy that technical road between takedown and submission a bit more, it will be worth it. So back to that peeping Nate conversation snoopjob at the tourney. I took their conversation in, and on the way back to my rustly ol’ Honda Civic, I decided that I should try some formal training.

I’m going to train Gracie Jiu-Jitsu. Why that particular art? About fifteen years ago, back in high school, my best friend was a pretty proficient wrestler, and I was a human balsa tree, at 6’4 and maybe a hundred and sixty-four pounds. Whenever I came to his house, I’d end up bent up like a U-bolt and stuffed into some sardine corner behind a couch in his living room. I never had his natural talent for wrestling. When we were in college, I bought two pairs of 16 ounce gloves. Two weeks later, my buddy was at an Urgent Care with a couple of hairline rib fractures after sucking up a five-finger payoff for my years of failure on his parents’ shag carpet. So for years now, I’ve thought about doing Muay Thai, with all of that kicking and punching business, because it’s the only thing that this lanky brawler ever showed a hint of potential for. But something about that Jiu-Jitsu competition drew me in.

I don’t own a pit bull or even a single strand of rusty, looping barbed wire. As age continues to take the edge off, I’m losing that youthful longing to stand in front of a guy until I send his molars into the right field bleachers at Back Alley Fields. But the thought of working out a physical chess match is appealing. Jiu-Jitsu seems to be a “life sport”, with the added benefit that it isn’t golf, and I’ll never be encouraged to wear knickers or a hat that comes with a free bowl of soup. Unlike brain-rattling sports like boxing, Jiu-Jitsu allows you to routinely and conclusively stop right at that edge, just before you submit an opponent, one bare movement before anyone suffers permanent damage. That concept of “tapping out” allows practitioners to work out a new problem every five minutes and bring it to actual resolution. If I want that in boxing, I have to smack a guy in his jaw. That’s not my sort of thing anymore.

The Gym
When I came through the doors of the Minnesota Martial Arts Academy, they asked me about my motivations to join. I told them that I wanted to train some UFC. That’s right, boys, it was time to train some Super Fertitta Bros! It’s a joke, fellas. Just a joke. I filled out a waiver form with Andy Grahn, and Nat McIntyre, a deceptively unimposing 135-pound Muay Thai wrecking machine, gave me a tour. I’ve met Nat in the past, and he’s a hell of a nice guy, but the most gracious thing that Nat did happened when he was fitting me with a gi. He handed me… wait for it… Brock Lesnar’s pants. That’s right. Nat looked at me and thought “Brock Lesnar”. Sure, I looked a little like MC Hammer in parachute pants, but I wasn’t complaining.

Attached to the 7000 square foot MMAA structure is a strength training facility known as Athletic Performance, Inc. It has a skull and crossbones for a logo. They do “caveman training” there, that exhausting program that is documented every time the UFC puts together a promo for Sean Sherk. A year or so ago, I watched a UFC pay-per-view with a couple of the API trainers. When they aren’t flipping over tractor tires or running with bungee cords strapped to their backs, they’re nice, mellow guys. They’re perfectly sophisticated cavemen.

I mention all of this business about the welcoming atmosphere at the gym, not because I’m some flower-power debutant, but because it’s not necessarily what you expect when you visit a testosterone factory for the first time. Instead of bumping through a herd of inadequate meatheads, I found an honorable group of participants, more concerned with their respective arts than with showing up the new guy.

The Training
I’m 6’4”, and maybe 210 pounds. I have underdeveloped biceps, poultry legs, and a mild case of “Invisible Lat Syndrome”. I have the grip strength of a guy who’s made a living assembling soft serve ice cream cones. The reality is that I have a job that is even less physically demanding than that. I work as a staff attorney for a judge at a courthouse. If I have to carry an especially thick civil file to my car at the end of the day, I’m complaining. That’s as bad as it gets for me most days, so you can imagine my natural anxiety about keeping up with the Gracies.

If I’m being REAL honest, the first time I got a little nervous was during warm-ups. I just had no idea how long we’d be running in circles and doing backwards summersaults. I’m not exactly a marathon runner, and I wondered if I’d gas and black out before we even started training. But they went easy on me. We spent the afternoon working on escapes from “mount”, the name of a position where your attacker straddles you somewhere ahead of your hips as you lay on your back.It’s a vulnerable position to be in. Our class was taught by Greg Nelson, the truly legendary founder of the Academy.

As you lie on your back, sweating into Brock Lesnar’s pants and attempting to impulsively string together a choreographed chain of defensive moves while Mr. Nelson observes, you realize a few things. The first is that as much as you intend to, in the words of Royce Gracie, “flow with the go”, you inevitably freak out and sprint through your routine like Flo Jo. The most humbling moment of my afternoon was my very patient partner’s insistence that I just slow down and loosen up. Take each, solitary step and breathe in between. During those inevitable moments of memory lapse and panic, my immediate instinct was to fight. But Jiu-Jitsu isn’t about fighting. It’s about creating distance and doing it the easy way. So when you’re yanking and jerking and straining, you’re probably supposed to be shifting your body and extending or something. When it all comes together, you realize that it took a hell of a lot less effort that your body wanted it to.

After a revelation like that, you’re overcome again by how little you know, and how remarkable it is that a family of Brazilian mad scientists assembled this complex, comprehensive system that doesn’t appear to have any dead ends. No matter what position you are in, there is almost always something to try. There’s fluid work to be done. Even in seemingly hopeless positions against a heavier opponent, there’s probably some inventive leveraging of bone and muscle available to potentially create gaps in your opponent’s positioning and secure an escape.

I experienced those things over and over for about an hour. We went through a series of progressive movements, first being careful to avoid being choked, and then learning how to flip off an opponent after a variety of different developments. Did I get beat up at all? Just a little. Yes, I’m walking like a cowboy today, and I’m bruised here and there, but it’s a great feeling. I just imagine that a thousand little miniature Gracies are poking me in the shoulder right now, saying the Brazilian equivalent of “Atta boy.” It’s funny. I have no business claiming to be a Jiu-Jitsu practitioner yet, but I feel like I’ve stepped through the doors of the Hotel California. You can check out any time you want, but you can never leave. That’s the thing. I don’t want to leave, and I’m hoping that means that, around UFC 130, I’ll be a better fan, genuinely enthralled by something that a booing, impatient crowd cannot comprehend.

- Nathan Johnson (aka 2JupitersTooMany)
joh02639@umn.edu

Big Ben is upset, and it’s not because he tenderized his opponent for five rounds and got clowned by Cecil and his band of merry peoples. No, Big Ben is upset because, one minute into the second round against Velasquez, referee Steve Mazzagatti stopped his fight. And while other fighters might have viewed Steve as some sort of benevolent protector from heaven, Ben regarded him like one of those suburban, beret-wearing Guardian Angels. Who wants to be rescued by a guy in a red beret? Not Ben.

Mazzagatti ended what had been an almost entirely one-sided conflict. That’s what it was: a conflict. It wasn’t a war. It was more along the lines of a paramilitary “operation”. And if Operation Desert Storm was about oil, then Operation Big Guys on the Machida Card was eventually about gas. After the first round, Rothwell didn’t have any. Just about every ounce of it had been forcibly siphoned away by Cain. But even on his last, hazy reserves, Big Ben was determined to stand up like his mechanical doppelganger in London. He wanted to swing his big arms and tick-tock through the exhausted remains of the final two rounds. He wanted one last chance to clock his opponent. Tip your waiter. Try the veal.

Before those controversial final moments, the fight went something like this:

Velasquez worked to take down Big Ben. And when he got him to the ground, he connected a few times. After an extended, half-standing struggle for position, both men were back on their feet. Velasquez landed a few punches and secured another takedown. He continued to do damage. And then, after Rothwell worked one more enthusiastic escape to the feet, Velasquez exploded.

He took Ben down with ease and dropped a series of really frightening looking elbows, as well as a number of heavy punches to his naked face. It wouldn’t be fair to suggest that Rothwell wasn’t conditioned for the fight. He absorbed serious punishment during the first round that appeared to bleed little invisible rivulets of Rothwell’s strength. Ben’s liquefied soul appeared to trickle from his punctured body. With one minute remaining, Velasquez secured a few scary moments of full mount and thunder clapped down something like a dozen powerful, unanswered shots to Rothwell’s wide-open face. They were the kind of blows that could have provided a man like Andrei Arlovski with a career full of canvas naptimes. But Big Brawny Ben just soaked it all up with his pink-flushed towel of a mug. It was the sort of 10-8 round that sends girlfriends on extended breaks to the bathroom.

Round two started with the same sort of ground dominance by Velasquez. Ben crawled towards the cage in a tragically valiant attempting to lurch to his feet. And when he got there, he rose like a zombie. Think Night of the Living Dead, not 28 Days Later. He rose in slow, ghastly motion. As he sat against the fence, one knee up as he seemed to want to transition to standing, he received six final, powerful blows to his face. Mazzagatti stepped in to end the fight just as Ben reached what must have felt like the tape at the end of a marathon. He got to his feet. Naturally, he immediately protested the stoppage, as if to say, “Are you kidding me? I stood up! Are you blind? I did it! I’m standing!”

The reality here is that Mazzagatti could have stopped that fight any number of times prior to 0:57 in the second round. Yes, Ben could have sacrificed a few thousand more brain cells on his way to a three-round 30-24 decision. And sure, the fickle gods that overlook this unpredictable sport might have offered up a third-round shocker in the form of something like an ill-timed rib void for Velasquez. But be serious. That stoppage was fine.

That being said, I love the fact that Big Ben can’t accept it. The man swallowed dozens of heavy punches and elbows. He crawled across the cage like a newborn trying to drag himself to his feet for the first time. Now, he’s wailing to the press. It’s obvious that the man simply will not quit. You can’t train that sort of resolve, however unreasonable it might be. And I’ll take a stubborn, fourth-round complainer over a ten-second tapper any day. So issue whatever complaint you want, Big Ben. In the words of “Hansel” from Zoolander, “I don’t really listen to it. But the fact that he’s making it, I respect that.”

- 2JupitersTooMany
joh02639@umn.edu

Editor’s Note: Rothwell’s comments criticizing the stoppage can be found at http://cagereport.net/Ben-Rothwell-blasts-Steve-Mazzagatti’s-stoppage.html

The problem is this – Machida lost that fight but rightfully earned the decision. That means when you view the fight as a whole, Shogun would be the winner. However, when breaking it down round by round and awarding a 10-9 score for each round, Machida was the winner. The reason is that several of the rounds were close and the judges favored the Champion. The idea that a close round would go to the Champion because “the challenger needs to take the belt” carried over from boxing and is well documented. It may be ridiculous, but it is commonplace in scoring fights.

Here are some of the fundamental flaws that make the current scoring system inappropriate for MMA:

1. The number of rounds in MMA fights. MMA fights have a small number of rounds (5 for title fights and 3 for non-title fights) compared to boxing. Sure, every round scored in a boxing match is important, but that importance is amplified in an MMA fight. The scoring of one razor close round will often determine the winner of the fight.

2. Close rounds count the same as dominate rounds. A round scored 10-8 in MMA is extremely rare. I imagine this has a lot to do with the amount of rounds once again. In a three round fight, if a judge scores the first round 10-8, it puts the other the fighter in a position where he is battling for a draw. Boxing is different – knock your opponent down and you’ve got yourself a 10-8 round. Everyone knows the round will be scored this way. There is no decision to be made by the judges, it is already written. MMA does not have an equivalent standard, so 10-8 rounds are only awarded when one fighter is overwhelmingly dominant. A perfect example of why this is so problematic is the Tito Ortiz/Forrest Griffin fight. Many people thought that Forrest should have won that fight two rounds to one. While that argument is valid, it is completely unjust to award the decision to Griffin even though he clearly lost the fight. Tito dominated the first round. He took Forrest down, controlled him, and landed several big shots that cut Forrest open and had him in major trouble. Rounds two and three were basically even, with neither fighter really doing anything of consequence. Tito controlled much more of the fight than Griffin did, landed the harder shots, and did far more damage. Yet, he still lost the fight on one of the judge’s scorecard.

3. The variety of attacks in MMA. Scoring a boxing match with this system is simple in comparison to MMA. Boxers attack with their hands alone, which leaves much less room for interpretation by the judges. The fighter that lands the most/hardest punches usually wins. MMA is not so straightforward. How do you score the value of a takedown versus a good knee? A hard leg kick versus a sharp jab? Controlling position versus actively working for submissions? It’s murky at best, and there is no absolute standard. It is left up to human interpretation. While human error is always going to be a problem, human interpretation is even worse. This is because two judges could watch the same fight and find two different winners based solely on how they value the importance of certain attacks. Cecil Peoples was recently quoted, “we always favor the fighter who is trying to finish the fight, and leg kicks certainly don’t do that.” I am sure there are judges that do not share that opinion. In effect, separate judges could be watching two completely different fights based on how they value certain types of attacks. While these circumstances will always make judging in MMA more complex, it is again amplified in the use of the 10-point must system. Shogun’s leg and body kicks early in the fight were probably seen as landing, but not overly damaging or effective. Late in the fight, it became obvious that those kicks were very effective and limited Machida’s movement and his ability to attack. If the fight were scored as a whole, it would allow the judges to reassess those kicks and the influence they had in the fight.

A recent poll on mixedmartialarts.com showed that out of more than 2,400 votes, 80% believed that Shogun won that fight. Dana White, Joe Rogan, Quinton “Rampage” Jackson and Joe Lauzon have all openly commented that they believe Shogun should have been the victor. The Staples Center erupted in “boo’s” when the decision was announced. It is almost as if the only people that actually thought Machida won were the three judges sitting ringside. Why is that? It’s because when most people watch a fight they are not breaking it down round by round and awarding a 10-9 score the way a judge would. They are watching the fight as a whole, and when it is over they decide who they believe won the fight. This is how fights were judged in the now extinct Pride organization and it really is a much more suitable way of judging, considering the unique variables of MMA. This would allow judges to score a fight like Machida/Shogun more effectively. The early rounds were all very close and could easily have been scored for Machida, and they were. However, as the fight wore on, the damaging effects of Shogun’s body and leg attacks became evident. By the final round, Machida was slower, worn down, and appeared to be the defeated fighter. Shogun, on the other hand, was still fresh and aggressively attacking. It was apparent that at the end of the twenty-five minutes, the challenger had inflicted more damage and was on his way to a decision win. Because of the scoring system, the judges saw it differently.

Of course, there is no perfect system of scoring. There will always be controversial decisions; such is the nature of any sport that has judges. But it is not controversy we are talking about. We are talking about a scoring system in which it is justified to award the decision to the person who lost the fight. It is almost certain that there will be no changes to the current scoring system it the near future, or possibly ever. Yet, if the current system remains in place, we will continue to see situations where the fighter who won the fight can still legitimately lose the decision.

- Marko

Cecil Peoples took it upon himself to state why he scored the fight the way he did. Which, you know, you only do if you have something to prove, which is that Cecil has been known to be a horrible judge for years. In fact, it’s a mystery how the guy can keep his job after all the f*ck ups he’s been involved in. So let’s break his statements down one horrible quote at a time.

“First of all what you need to understand is that from where the judges are sitting, we get to see things that the fans at home may miss.”

I’d believe this if there weren’t sixteen thousand fans in attendance that, at the beginning of the fight, were all cheering Machida and booing Shogun. Post fight, it went into reverse. Not to mention Dana White, who has the best seat in the house, also believes you f*cked up. And not only f*cked up, but f*cked up so bad that they are having a immediate rematch, something the UFC rarely does, let alone do for two non-American fighters. So explain to me how everybody in the crowd and everybody sitting feet away from the fight can all be wrong? Why were Joe Rogan and Mike Goldberg already calling for Shogun vs. Anderson Silva? Why did ESPN put up a headline saying Shogun gets decision win over Machida even before the winner was announced (you know, apart from pulling the trigger a little too early)? Yet, a guy that has been known to f*ck up all the time is trying to explain to us why he scored the way he did. Get real. Better yet, get a new job.

“Mauricio Rua was being aggressive but it wasn’t effective aggressiveness which is what we as the judges look for when scoring a fight.”

Are you really trying to tell me Machida was being more aggressive than Shogun… the guy that spent most of the time running out of the corner to avoid taking any damage? The guy that would flinch every time he was hit? What the hell is the difference between aggressive and effective aggressiveness? If one guy isn’t being aggressive and the other guy is, I don’t care if it’s not effective you reward points to the guy pushing the pace.

“You have to keep in mind we always the favor the fighter who is trying to finish the fight, and leg kicks certainly don’t do that.”

This statement should get your license pulled on the spot. Bas Rutten vs. Warpath, Keith Jardine vs. Kerry Schall, Pat Barry vs. Dan Evanson, Brandon Vera vs. Mike Patt, Pete Spratt vs. Robbie Lawler, etc. And if they aren’t finishing fights, they can be fight changing, as seen in the Rampage vs. Griffin fight. You want to talk about effective striking, well you can start with leg kicks, you moron. What’s next, elbows don’t finish fights, so don’t even pay attention to that large cut on a guy’s forehead?

“When both fighters are engaged in a striking match, what I always look for is the fighter who is being judicious, picking his spots, being accurate and landing the cleaner strikes which ultimately is what Lyoto did more effectively than Rua.”

Yeah, tell that to the cut on Lyoto’s nose and lip, both of his legs which were red, and his midsection.

“I’m just glad the other judges on the panel saw it the same way and I’m sure the fans who understand the technicalities of the sport agree with the decision too.”

I have yet to hear anybody intelligent in the media or on the Internet agree with you or any of the other judges. And yes, I am calling Kevin Iole a moron. I didn’t hear any of the sixteen thousand fans in attendance agree with you. I didn’t hear respected fighters like Rampage and Forrest Griffin agreeing with you, or Dana White for that matter. So I guess only three people and a bunch of e-trolls understand the technicalities of the sport. Maybe you geniuses can help us all out and explain the technicalities, because clearly only but a handful of people have any idea what they are.

A few other points I’d like to put out there. First off, I don’t believe in the saying “to be the champ you have to beat the champ”. It’s been by far the worst saying in combat sports for decades. If a guy wins a fight, he wins the fight. I don’t care if he knocks him out or if he beats on him for 25 minutes, the better fighter should walk out with the belt that night.

Another saying that I’m really getting tired of is this “don’t leave the fight in the judge’s hands”. The only reason that saying was ever said was because of how bad judges normally are. We wouldn’t have this problem if we could find a group of competent judges who could do what they are paid to do.

Finally, I’d just like to point this out to all of my fellow knuckle warriors on the Internet. This has nothing to do with the UFC and it has nothing to do with the California State Athletic Commission, as funny as that seems because they’ve been known to be corrupt for years. The fact is the CSAC and other athletic commissions pay these people to do consistent work. I suppose you could blame them for not firing the incompetent judges, but at the same time, people are getting paid to do this. A job many of us would die for just because we love this sport bad enough. So it wouldn’t hurt to stop all the bullsh*t and either go back to school or find a new job entirely.

- Joe Stewart
Elgin, Illinois
poolfandestroyer@yahoo.com
http://www.cfzforums.com

For twenty five minutes on Saturday night, Shogun Rua showed us the form that made him the best light-heavyweight (“middleweight” in Pride) in the world just a few years ago. He peppered Machida with leg kicks throughout the five round fight. He pressed the action from start to finish, initiating exchanges with the champion, throughout. And in addition to leaving welts all over Machida’s legs and flanks, he opened a decent cut on Machida’s lip. No, he did not demolish Machida. Neither fighter ever appeared to be in any real danger of being stopped. But there can be no debate. By any reasonable judging criteria or standard, Mauricio Rua won that fight. He took what his opponent gave him, a strategy used to brilliant effect throughout his career by Machida, who, until Saturday, had suffered more cuts shaving than fighting. And yet, Machida, whose trademark counter-striking was almost entirely ineffective, who did almost no damage in the fight, whatsoever, walked out of the Octagon with the decision.

The implications of Saturday’s fight will be far-reaching. I agree with those that say that the credibility and legitimacy of our sport has suffered a blow. And I hope that what transpired will serve as a catalyst for some reform of MMA’s misplaced, ineffective scoring system. But those are stories for another time. We must never lose sight of the fact that MMA is not a video game or a TV show. These are real men that break and bleed for our entertainment. And the enormity of their sacrifices necessitates that the judges get it right.

What must this fight have meant to Mauricio Rua? A few short years ago, he was regarded as one of the very best fighters in the world. He took out Rampage Jackson in under a round. He stopped Alistair Overeem. He stopped (and outgrappled) Ricardo Arona. He was creative. He was dynamic. And, he was fun to watch. Then he got hurt. First, it was a freak injury to his elbow. Then Rua suffered a major knee injury. After surgery, he injured the knee again. The injuries seemed to have robbed him of his dynamism. More recent fans of the sport recall his lackluster UFC performances against Forrest Griffin and Mark Coleman. Imagine when Rua found out that he would have an opportunity to fight for the UFC belt, with the man everyone was calling unbeatable. He must have been keenly aware of all the rewards and opportunities that come with being a champion. He trained for four grueling months to prepare for his opportunity. He trained on balky knees. He trained early in the morning and late at night. He trained on weekends when others were relaxing or spending time at home. Shogun’s brother, “Ninja” Rua, also a mixed martial arts fighter, canceled his own bout to help his brother prepare. For them, this was to be the opportunity of a lifetime. A chance to show that at least for one night, Mauricio Rua could be the very best fighter in the world. A chance for Shogun to bring the championship belt home to his hometown, his teammates, and his family. Surely, Rua must have smiled to himself as he waited on Saturday for the moment when he would be announced as UFC champion. But his moment never came.

UFC President Dana White has called for an immediate rematch. This is a given. All anyone can offer Shogun is another crack at slaying the Dragon. But Rua shouldn’t have to beat Machida twice just to win once. These athletes work too hard to be told “We’ll get it right the next time.” And there are no guarantees that Rua can repeat the feat he pulled off at UFC 104. Machida is an immensely talented and cerebral fighter, even if Shogun dispelled forever the aura of his invincibility. Machida will be prepared for Shogun’s game plan the next time around. His coaches, his father, and his training partners will see to that. And so, sadly, there is no giving to Rua the things he lost on Saturday. His victory inside the cage only earned him a chance to try again. Sometimes you get what you deserve. Sadly, sometimes you just get what you get.

Shogun’s performance on Saturday night reminded me what I like so much about our sport: its honesty. When the cage door closes, the athletes decide who wins the fight. They decide with sweat and blood, fists and feet, knees and elbows. The one that wins the fight has his hand raised at the end. At least, that’s the way it’s supposed to work. But not on Saturday.

- Richard Green

I’ve changed dentists as many times as I’ve changed insurance companies. We’ve just never managed to develop that chummy dentist-patient relationship that you read about in 1950s heartland novellas. Why is that? I think it’s probably because I’ve never registered an ounce of joy from a single one of them. They’ve all just sort of hovered like androgynous cherubs, sterilized by fluorescent light, and they communicate an absolute disenchantment with the idea of getting too invested in the long-term welfare of my little plaque and tartar ecosystem. And when they aren’t making exasperated moral judgments about my failure to floss, they are simply bored. Bored and disgusted, like puritanical rodents running exercise wheels in a bordello. If that’s too abstract for you, how about this: they remind me of Josh Neer.

Two fights ago, Neer looked to be doing a batgirl impression as he was almost romantically smothered on the ground by Kurt “Batman” Pellegrino. And somewhere in the midst of what felt much longer than a fifteen-minute study in patience, Josh waved to the crowd from his back like he’d just spotted a shoplifter. “He’s right here! Arrest this man! Get him off of me!” Josh couldn’t understand how the referee could allow the un-caped crusader to control him and dictate the lazy course of that fight.

The other day, at UFC 104, Josh was tossed around like a marionette by Gleison Tibau. A number of the takedowns were dramatic enough to distract the punch-hungry crowd from the fact that a bit of that dreaded, monotonous ground business might follow. But Neer has obviously evolved at least a bit, and he constantly did a good job of getting back up again. Still, he was frustrated. At the end of round two, he flipped up a hand after the bell. He looked irritated. He did the same sort of thing at the end of the fight, and then immediately raised his hands in victory. He lost the unanimous decision. Josh shook his head in disagreement.

I can’t remember ever seeing Josh smile during an interview. Maybe I missed it. But I’m positive that I’ve never seen him crack a pearly grin mid-fight. I can’t imagine that he’s got it in him. The only emotions I’ve seen from Josh during competition are aggressive determination and resigned frustration. Specifically, he can’t seem to come to terms with the fact that the any-fight asshole on top of him doesn’t want to stand up so that they can face off like gunslingers and exchange blows to the head until one of them drops. Like real gentlemen. That’s the fight that Josh wants, and that’s the one that he predictably brings, because that’s a fight that his concrete head is going to win. He wants to jump back on that facial disassembly line again, mechanically engaging in a mutual test of consciousness. A man like that has a right to promise the fans an exciting fight. And when the other guy doesn’t cooperate, Josh has the look of any one of my dentists: like he can’t comprehend why the hell I haven’t been flossing between meals. He’s bored and disgusted. How very dental of him. But unlike my own personal stable of used up and rejected caregivers, Josh has this going for him: his boredom and disgust motivates him to keep things exciting. It pushes him to escape and get on his feet again. That’s why I love the guy, and that’s why he always keeps me coming back for more.

-2JupitersTooMany
joh02639@umn.edu

We aren’t talking about giving the Andy Wang’s of the MMA world millions upon millions of dollars. This is Dan Henderson we are talking about. Future UFC Hall of Famer. He’s fought the who’s who of MMA all the way from Wanderlei Silva to Anderson Silva, Big Nog to Lil Nog, Vitor Belfort, Quinton Jackson, etc. I mean me running off names doesn’t do the guy any justice. Let’s just say he’s been around the corner a few times and he’s won a few titles here and there. Something only a few elite MMA fighters can claim to of done.

If you don’t budge on the money, at least show the guy some respect. Everybody and their mothers knew Dan Henderson versus Michael Bisping was a fight for a title shot against Anderson Silva. So why is it that a guy who has never fought in the UFC middleweight division, and who also happens to have a loss to Dan Henderson, is getting a title shot? And why is it that Dan would have to fight a guy that got dominated by Anderson Silva just to get a title shot? Another fact. Henderson is the only guy to win a round against Anderson Silva in the UFC. So don’t send a guy on a show for weeks upon weeks, set up a fight for a title shot, and when your British poster boy gets plastered to the UFC mat, end up screwing a legend of the sport out of a title shot and out of a contract he and many of his fans believe he deserves.

The bottom line is, Zuffa as a company brings in a shitload of money each and every year. And not even ten percent of it is handed out to the fighters. The fighters are the company. Guys like Chuck Liddell and Brock Lesnar and Randy Couture don’t grow on trees. You reward your top fighters because at the end of the day, no matter what you want to say, you are nothing without your fighters. And just because you low ball your very top fighters doesn’t mean you have to do it to everybody. You are telling me you make at least a billion dollars a year, or close to it, as a company, and someone comes to you asking for a seven figure signing bonus, and you can’t give him that? The guy that puts his life on the line against the best of the best, and this is how you treat him?

I for one do not want to see Dan Henderson end up in Strikeforce. Great promotion, no competition for Dan. He belongs in the UFC with the top guys at 185 and 205. He belongs in the UFC hall of fame. It’s no secret, Dan is getting up there in age. If the guy wants more money to pocket into his retirement fund, give it to him. Not to mention he can still bring it against anybody. With that being said, Strikeforce is a well funded organization as well. So if they gave Dan what he wants, it’s a smart move. Millions of people saw Dan Henderson knock Bisping into the next area code on the biggest event yet. One of the greatest knockouts in combat sports history in my opinion. So go ahead, don’t give Henderson his money. It will just be a huge mistake to let one of your more known fighters walk to your biggest competition where he could have a huge fight with Fedor, a guy Dana White calls overrated, yet once or twice a year he goes after and fails.

- Joe Stewart
Elgin, Illinois
poolfandestroyer@yahoo.com
http://www.cfzforums.com

Like most children in my era I was drawn towards martial arts from watching The Karate Kid and old Bruce Lee movies. It was the allure of defeating a gang of armed foes single handedly that lead me to my first Dojo. After years of learning as a child I started questioning things as a teenager. I left after giving up on the hopes that wrist locks and pressure points were ever going to help me defeat a larger person in a fight.

It was those first UFC’s, borrowed from a friend of a friend, recorded on a scratched up VHS tape and labeled with a blue marker that showed me that there was a martial art that wasn’t full of empty promises. I knew in my heart that this was what I needed.

I felt blessed, and still do, to be a part of a real evolution of martial arts. Merging different arts together without the bullshit of ancient traditions. The only question needed then was, “Does it work?” But it was at that moment in the corner of that ring where I realized that we had left out one of the most important parts. We had combined the best pieces of boxing, wrestling, jiu-jitsu, and muay-thai in order to become better fighters but had left out the honor, respect, and tradition of the Martial Arts needed to become better people.

The UFC was built on a cornerstone of hyping no rules fights in order to attract a crowd and pay per view buyers. This old stigma of blood and pain is something that still haunts our sport. MMA is showered with merchandise depicting skulls and barbed wire, fighters feel the need to stand and trade punches with each other in order to be exciting, and MMA reality shows are edited to only show debauchery and smack talking.

Martial Arts is about technique, culture, honor and respect. Fighting is only about hurting your opponent. I think it’s time to stop promoting fighting and start promoting Martial Arts.

- Gary Blevins

Jeff Blatnick, a champion Greco-Roman wrestler, and commentator for the UFC from 1994 to 2001, claims that he coined the term Mixed Martial Arts.¹ Assuming that’s true, the timing is unclear to me. It may be that the term surfaced about the time that the UFC did. But for purposes of this little e-treatise, the timing isn’t important. What is important is that the phrase has come to represent the sport itself. And for years, insiders have been “training Mixed Martial Arts”, “performing Mixed Martial Arts”, and “competing in Mixed Martial Arts”.

So what’s all this modern business about training UFC? As the sport has exploded in recent years, a large group of fans who never had to duck from shadow to shadow to support the sport are suddenly defining it in terms of the existence of an organization rather than the sport itself. Is that appropriate? Is it even grammatically correct to speak that way? I think it is. And here is why.

Mixed Martial Arts continues to be a relevant identifier of a group of disciplines. But it wasn’t always that way. It presumably wasn’t until Jeff Blatnick was barking into a mic around the time of UFC 4. A lot has changed since then. The UFC has come to represent, for most fans, the most stable, money-plump, all-defining representative of Mixed Martial Arts. So if Mr. Blatnick, presumably just over a decade ago, could slap a label on the sport, what’s so wrong with referring to it as ultimate fighting? It’s the ultimate expression of competitive fighting, isn’t it? But most importantly, is it inconceivable that a person could train UFC? Considering that the goal of most rising fighters is to fight in the UFC, under rules adopted by the UFC, and under the sizzle of a modern cultural limelight that has primarily been cast by the UFC, aren’t modern participants generally training with an eye on having their experiences defined to a significant degree by the organization itself?

If I lost you there, consider this. Mixed Martial Arts has always been representative of a group of arts, and not a particular art itself. The phrase represents an idea that is larger than any particular discipline, or even a handful of disciplines. Now if it isn’t appropriate to speak about training “UFC”, then how can it be appropriate to speak of training Mixed Martial Arts? Shouldn’t a fellow limit himself to speaking of training Jiu Jitsu or Muay Thai or, God forbid, rubber guard? But we don’t do that. We want that term or phrase to grab onto to act as an expression of the sport as a whole. And just as Mixed Martial Arts represents a mass of ideas, ranging from a collection of disciplines, to at least a bare set of rules, the term UFC has come to represent the sport as experienced under the clay-shaping hands of the Fertittas and the Baldfather.

Here’s my conclusion. The world of combat sports owes its present existence to men and women who worked like sun-starved Morlocks during the developmental years of fighting that didn’t involve ten ounce gloves. They have a right to be territorial, and if they find a term to be representative of the sport, or even purely nostalgic, it’s understandable that they would chafe at an influx of unconventional fans who don’t appreciate their vocabulary. But here it is: the sport has passed from infancy, into adolescence and on to adulthood. It doesn’t look the same anymore. The sport is walking on its own now, and as sad as it might be, it’s got to squeeze into new clothes now and then. And so, proud parents as some fans are, they might as well get used to watching and training and performing UFC. Mixed Martial Arts, UFC, it’s still rock n’ roll to me.

-2JupitersTooMany
joh02639@umn.edu

¹ SLATTERY, HOLDEN (October 23, 2008). “Speaker tells Homer students to keep improving”. Cortland Standard. http://cortlandstandard.net/articles/10232008n.html.