They got fight, though no finish since when-was-the-last?
So, what to make of Jon Fitch and his kind, which includes the notorious gentleman whose last fight was against the Anderson Silva himself? (And whose battles with the court, the sanctioning bodies and the fans’ perception rage till now?)
Yes, they fight as if MMA is a game of basketball: dribble from the start till the final buzzer sounds and “satisfy” themselves by ending the game with more points than their opponents. (Yup, “satisfy” is enclosed in quotation marks.)
If their way of fighting and collecting wins is some kind of epidemic, here’s a brief, theoretical epidemiology:
They were accomplished wrestlers who, at the start of their cross-over into MMA, wished that the power in their takedowns would translate somehow into their striking.
They earnestly hoped for a high percentage in knocking down or out their opponents, akin to that of their takedowns.
They knew that accomplishing this, among other athletic objectives, would make them complete and more dangerous fighters. (For one, why wish for anything less when starting an MMA career?)
However, after years of training and fighting, they soon realized that nature has only given them so much potential in the striking department.
Turns out it’s true, sadly, that all the hours—and even years—spent in the gym will never, ever give them the fists of a dos Santos in the standup or of a Carwin on the ground. Or even the legs of a Cro Cop or knees of an Axe Murderer.
Maybe they learned the proper striking form and techniques, but the KO power remains a different and rare animal.
So now they fight the best way they can: start with preliminary exchanges in the standup to set up a takedown, then wrestle down their opponents and try to grapple them to submission or ground-and-pound to a decision win (and, just maybe, a stoppage).
The often subtle and sneaky positioning on the ground, to make an opening for a submission hold, may be the least perceivable and appreciated by casual fans.
On the other hand, the ground-and-pound, assuming the top fighter creates enough space and leverage, is more spectator-friendly; it’s easier to see if the fighter throws power bombs or pillow punches. (But let’s also remember that there are fighters like The Spider who are lethal strikers as well on their back, and can effectively neutralize the top fighter’s ground-and-pound and more.)
On the ground, Jon Fitch and his bunch have faced opponents who were effective in defending against their submissions and/or were resistant or evasive to their punches and elbow strikes.
But does it mean that this breed of warriors has lost the intent to finish fights?
Do we have to second-guess and conclude that they no longer look for that lucky strike or series of strikes to gift themselves and us fans with that much sought-after finish? What if it’s against a glass-jawed opponent?
After all, not looking to end an MMA fight as soon as possible is synonymous to masochism.
In MMA fighting, the idiomatic expression “(to) risk life and limb” is fully and portentously realized every time a fighter steps into the octagon. And the longer the fight, the longer a fighter’s exposure to life- and limb-threatening injuries.
The chances of suffering internal hemorrhages due to strikes, and becoming comatose or paralyzed for life, even for the most religious lay-and-pray practitioners, are real.
The shortest fight, in the winning fighter’s favor, is his best preventive measure against such tragic misfortunes.
Aside from their courage, shouldn’t we at least appreciate the other more impressive facets of their game and skill-set?
After all, these are elite fighters who already have so much more to offer than your average MMA warrior.
Their determination to win and impose their will and tactics over their opponents, finish or no finish, must also be deserving of our admiration.
And due credit, too, should go to the resilience and abilities of their opponents, who are more often than not on the losing end of the judges’ score cards.
Again, let’s make a conscious, cognitive attempt to separate a fighter’s intent to finish (largely guesswork on anybody else’s part) and the result of his fight.
There’s a difference between willfully executing a lay-and-pray to avoid standup striking or stall into a decision win, and getting dragged into it, largely due to fatigue or the opponent’s stifling defense.
Also, isn’t the grinding exertion of one’s mental and physical faculties for 15 to 25 minutes to eke out a win, dominant or otherwise, an exemplary display of the virtues of manual labor?
It takes broadmindedness to give a proper valuation of fighters of different sizes, styles and abilities—and to rightfully acknowledge their respective places in this sport.
Otherwise, if we think they’re not worth our patronage, then, let’s call for their retirement or boycott their fights. And let’s walk the talk.
In doing so, perhaps we could compel the top MMA promotions to contract only certified finishers, from amateur and professional MMA and other combat sports, for our instantaneous gratification and ultimate viewing pleasure.
But heck, you just don’t grow Rickson Gracies, Mike Tysons and Alexander Karelins overnight, or even in a lifetime.
So please, when it starts raining fighters with the KO power and octagon savvy of Anderson Silva, the wrestling prowess and athleticism of Georges St-Pierre, the aggressiveness of Wanderlei Silva, the ground-and-pound of Mark Munoz, the grappling of Demian Maia and the relentless endurance of Frankie Edgar, give me a call.
And Jon Jones remains a rare, albeit BIG, drop in the MMA pond.
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