The highest indisputable platform that a mixed martial artist can reach is UFC champion. Earning that accolade identifies someone as the best fighter in the toughest promotion in his or her weight class.
To even get a sniff at the opportunity is a rare feat that most competitors never realize. It takes supreme talent, remarkable drive and, of course, consistently impressive results.
But as the UFC continues to operate in a liminal space between sport and spectacle, a new criterion has emerged: marketability.
A fighter doesn’t invariably HAVE to be marketable, but those that are get a huge leg up on the competition. That is understandable—of course the UFC wants to put on shows that will sell tickets and pay-per-views.
The problem isn’t so much that reputation factors in but rather that it infringes on the results aspect of the title-shot blueprint. This is far less understandable—or at least far less acceptable.
And it’s becoming all too commonplace.
The past few years have seen fighters frivolously handed title shots (Urijah Faber four shots in eight fights between WEC and UFC), receive shots on the strength of a singular achievement that wasn’t all that impressive (Lyoto Machida for defeating Randy Couture after losing two straight) or be ushered to the front of the line without beating anyone near a championship level (Dan Hardy vs. Georges St-Pierre).
All of these scenarios are problematic, but they are hardly the best examples of the systemic problems plaguing the UFC right now. The most ludicrous manner in which the UFC’s trend away from a results-driven business manifests itself is fighters receiving title shots after losing.
Chael Sonnen and Nick Diaz just “earned” title fights by losing, and Frankie Edgar did it a little before them. Most recently, Miesha Tate got the nod after being stopped by Cat Zingano.
In most of these cases, the fighter acted as an injury replacement. But are results that meaningless?
In what other sport does this happen? Had the Indiana Pacers defeated the Miami Heat in the NBA Eastern Conference Finals, would the league have ushered the Heat through to the championship anyway? I’m sure league executives would have wanted to, since the difference in ratings would be major, but they wouldn’t have.
In most sports, there are parameters that navigate upward mobility.
Of course, systems institutionalized by other sports don’t necessarily translate perfectly to MMA, but in this case, the premise of winning being kind of important can easily be adapted. Concepts like winning being better than losing should not differ so greatly in mixed martial arts.
There are cases within the UFC that follow the proper order, but for every T.J. Grant who puts his head down and gets the job done until people are forced to take notice, there is a Chael Sonnen who talks his way into a title shot or a Miesha Tate who is given an edge over better fighters who project less confrontational personalities.
It seems almost laughable that I am writing this, making this argument, but we have apparently come to a point where common sense needs a little support.
I’m not one to posit the argument that the criteria for garnering a title shot should be strict and inflexible, but I do believe criteria should exist and that criteria should primarily consider performance.
Better and worse may be relative terms, but basing opportunities on results is at least fair, both to the fighters dedicating their lives to winning UFC titles and to the fans that want to see the best of the best square off in competition.
Setting aside reputation when considering potential challengers is impossible—people cannot easily shed subjectivity—but letting reputation dominate important decisions, like who will be granted the sport’s grandest opportunity, is simply ridiculous.
It needs to stop happening.
Read more MMA news on BleacherReport.com