Wednesday’s MMA “Question of the Day” was a big one. A weighty one, tunneling to the very heart of the sporting matters at hand.
Did Nick Diaz or did Nick Diaz not catch his flight to Las Vegas?
The stick of uncertainty first breached the hornet’s nest in an official UFC fight-week video that strongly indicated a certain aircraft had departed a certain gate without a certain ticketed passenger, name of Diaz.
Despite this indication, plenty of people claimed that not only were the Diaz wheels down in Vegas, but the UFC knew it. The conspiracy theory typewrote itself and spread like leaflets in the desert wind after Diaz no-showed Wednesday’s open workouts.
Dana White is wondering where Nick Diaz is. Do you think he’ll make it to #ufc 183? http://t.co/WPDKQE4TgW
— MMAFighting.com (@MMAFighting) January 28, 2015
Cesar Gracie once told me he had to buy Nick a new ticket when he got off a plane to eat a burrito on a layover and didn’t get back on. So.
— Ben Fowlkes (@benfowlkesMMA) January 28, 2015
Since it’s well known that Nick Diaz is in Las Vegas and has been for days, pay attention to which media outlets play along with UFC games
— Jonathan Snowden (@mmaencyclopedia) January 28, 2015
Strong voices emerged on both sides. Was it a ploy to sell wolf tickets? The latest caper in a caper-rich career? Sound and fury signifying nothing? We may never know. (Update: He eventually made his entrance.)
But I do know one thing: This is the sort of thing that can only happen to the Manny Ramirez of the Manny Ramirez of sports.
Sorry, two things. When he’s on his own, Diaz keeps everyone with a writing implement at Marshawnesque lengths. And yet, when he allows himself to speak freely, it’s a real thing to witness. Hilarious. Confused. Confusing. Obtuse. Halting. Despondent. Unstable. Insightful. Angry. Above all, the word “remarkable” comes to mind.
But understanding Diaz through his soundbites is like understanding a cow through a hamburger. And that brings me to the second thing I know: Nick Diaz is a freaking weirdo. We don’t know Diaz well, but we know a little, enough to know he is one odd duck.
These two truths, taken together, are why Diaz simply has to beat Anderson Silva this Saturday at UFC 183 out there in Las Vegas. The weirdos need a W, and Diaz is the man to dellver.
Is Diaz the favorite against Silva? Of course not, not against Silva, who in an absolute worst case is the third-best fighter in the sport’s history. But before you lay your allegiances down, consider all the variables these fighters will present, and how many of them we simply won’t know anything about.
Silva (33-6) told reporters last week that he was done talking about the horrifically broken leg he sustained in the final days of 2013. But that doesn’t mean his leg is done being a problem, or that there aren’t residual issues between the ears. And even if that’s not the case, he’s still a 39-year-old man re-entering live competition after a 13-month layoff. Familiar strengths (muay thai) could be weakened, new skills (heavy clinch work) discovered and old skills (taunting) rejuvenated. Regardless of its chemistry, the attack will be cold fury, then hot fury, then colder fury if Silva gets to do things the way he wants.
On the other side, it will take a lot for the prickly pride of Stockton, California, to surrender in any form; he hasn’t been knocked out in seven years and has never tapped. And who do you think would strive better in chaos? Frankly, I don’t see either man as excessively impulsive, but the answer has to be Diaz.
And there’s the fact that a man who walks around at about 200 pounds has preferred a life competing at welterweight. Hey, maybe this, his first UFC fight at middleweight, could be a long-term improvement. With an eight-year youth advantage and cardiovascular stamina honed by the gentlemanly weekend pursuits of triathlons and California mountain biking, it’s entirely feasible he’ll be in better shape despite the extra baggage. (He himself seems to suspect that to be the case.)
And through the aggression and tumbling punch combinations he prefers on the feet would seem to present a meat popsicle to the muay thai striking and (still evident?) quickness of Silva, maybe not. Maybe Diaz can stalk him back to the fence and rip a few hooks to the body.
If not, Diaz has more weapons that he could call upon if needed. He won’t be at the strength disadvantage he was against Georges St-Pierre, which might free him up to employ his formidable guard if he finds himself on his back. (His armbars are especially dangerous) And don’t forget that Diaz has eight pro wins by submission and is still the one of the few fighters to tap an opponent with a gogoplata. (The win was later overturned after Diaz popped for weed, but fine print is for suits.)
Even Mr. Spinning Ish himself, Carlos Condit, one of the most aggressive fighters in the UFC, used an uncharacteristically, if you like, evasive game plan to foil the charging Diaz. Condit took the decision but also took some heat from Diaz, who growled after that the offensive output was not all it was cracked up to be.
Yeah, so Georges St-Pierre outclassed him, pinning him to the ground for much of the match and snapping a jab into Diaz‘s face during the short stretches (especially in the third) when he deigned to stand with Diaz for a bit of fun. St-Pierre even landed a Superman punch! The striking metrics were WHAT.
Anyway, Diaz lost. Then he failed another test for weed metabolites and sat out a year. But all the loss itself did was send him to the back of a very long line.
It is these two things that drove Diaz into a 22-month semiretirement during which he would occasionally peep his head out of somewhere like a spring-loaded midway villain, shouting “Don’t Be Scared!” for an extra bolt of adrenaline.
He wanted the big fights or the big money. Had to be the two. You know what I mean when I say big. Luckily, he didn’t seem bored. There was running and triathloning, after all. He even started War MMA, his own promotion, which put on precisely one card and actually didn’t look too bad in the effort.
He also presumably got his financial house in order, following his rambling post-fight confession in the wake of his GSP fight, in which he admitted to not paying taxes. Ooh. That’s not good.
So fast-forward a ways, and here comes Silva from his leg break, an opponent Diaz has circled for years. Finally, the planets have aligned, and the UFC has bait toothsome enough to lure the Diaz cash cow back into the Octagon. Both men are back this Saturday.
The better fighter is Silva, but the star is Diaz. And he’s not just another media-baiting brat or spoiled prima donna. Far from it. The guy just has a way of thinking and talking that perfectly mirrors his way in the cage. It’s as lovable as it is scary, clearest when it mumbles the most.
You think of him as some kind of blunt-smoking goofball, fooling around with nunchucks in his bedroom? Well, uh, OK, fine. But if you think that’s his sum total, man, please. He gets more done in a morning than we do in a week.
The smart money might be on Anderson Silva. But when has smart money ever gravitated to Nick Diaz? When has “smart” or “money” ever found him, except in these occasional bursts of brilliance that seem to take everyone, him included, by surprise?
It’s impossible to know what’s going to happen Saturday night. There is too much age, too much time off, too many mental and physical variables in the equation. Even so, rooting for Diaz at UFC 183 might not be smart. It might not be wise. But it will be a strange spectacle. And that’s just Nick Diaz‘s game. It’s why we’re all there.
Scott Harris writes about MMA for Bleacher Report. For more stuff like this, follow Scott on Twitter.
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