Author: By Frank Curreri

Some media outlets have framed Saturday’s Roy Nelson-Frank Mir scrap as ‘friend versus friend.’

Roy Nelson, however, says that’s not exactly the case.

“I know who Frank is and Frank knows who I am,” said the heavyweight contender, who has trained with his fellow Las Vegan sporadically in the past. “We know a little bit about each other’s personal history. Have I ate at Frank’s house? No. Are we business acquaintances? Yes. But it’s not friend versus friend. Friend versus friend is somebody that wants what is best for their friend — that will sacrifice for their friend. Me and Frank are not that kind of friends.”

Though highly complimentary toward his UFC 130 opponent, Nelson (16-5) probably won’t lose any sleep if he manages to derail Mir’s bid for a third UFC championship. He is also keenly aware that Mir, owner of eight UFC victories via first round stoppage, is as dangerous as they come.

“You’ve always got to be scared of Frank,” Nelson said. “He’s got a true mix of martial arts. He’s good in every aspect. He’s knocked out (Mirko) Cro Cop. Frank’s even said he’s bigger and stronger than (Junior) Dos Santos, so I’m assuming he hits harder.”

The intimidating knockout artist that is Dos Santos, you might recall, battered Nelson with heavy punches over three rounds at UFC 117. Yet “Big Country” impressed many and perhaps saw his stock rise by exhibiting exceptional toughness and charging forward and courageously winging punches until the final horn. While onlookers admired his survival skills, Nelson didn’t draw any moral victories from his gutsy performance.

“The biggest thing I learned from the Dos Santos’ fight is that you’ve got to have offense,” he said. “You’ve got to punch him more than he punches you. It’s that simple in the fight game.”

(Incidentally, for anyone wondering, Nelson likes Dos Santos to beat Shane Carwin next month in Vancouver at UFC 131. The basis for his prediction? “Just because he beat me,” Nelson said).

Speaking of prognostication, Nelson also predicted months ago that Brock Lesnar would end up bowing out of his scheduled UFC 131 matchup with Dos Santos. His foresight powers have not gone unnoticed.

“A couple days ago I was named the Nostradamus of MMA so I’m just really good at predicting the future,” the 34-year-old said. “It’s just like how I see myself being UFC champion.”

Winner of season 10 of The Ultimate Fighter, Nelson is a former International Fight League champion who turned pro in 2004. Only a year earlier he had faced Mir in a renowned Grappler’s Quest submission wrestling match that has since garnered nearly 400,000 views on YouTube. Mir started quickly, scoring a takedown, but gassed late. Nelson dominated the rest of the way en route to a 15-2 win to advance in the Absolute Division.

Today, both men are Brazilian jiu-jitsu black belts under reputable instructors; Mir under Ricardo Pires, Nelson under Renzo Gracie. But the 2003 victory means little to Nelson these days.

“It was, what, eight or nine years ago? We’re doing MMA now and I’m a bigger and fatter guy now,” Nelson said.

Nelson’s memory of their oft-cited grappling match goes like this:

“He scored the first two points and then tried to submit me,” he said. “It just lit a fire under my belt from then. Right after that I tapped out Brandon Vera and then I beat Diego Sanchez 19-2.”

Nelson has conceded in interviews that Mir’s jiu-jitsu skills, as it relates to MMA, are superior to his. In fact, statistics indicate the same, since Nelson hasn’t submitted anyone in a live MMA bout since 2006, yet has TKO’d seven opponents.

“If we’re talking MMA, he has more submissions than I have,” Nelson said of Mir. “Frank is a two-time UFC champ and is a living legend of the UFC heavyweight division. I like to think that I might be able to fit in that same category. But he’s a two-time UFC champion so I’m just lucky to be in the same room with him.”

They last trained together “years ago,” Nelson said.

“With Frank you just have to be prepared for anything,” he said. “When I go into fights I just try to impose my will and not worry about what the other guy is going to do.”

Some presume that Las Vegas bragging rights will be at stake. Nelson downplayed that as a motivation, saying, “The only thing is that whoever wins will have gym rights. He’ll get to dictate when he can train and when he can’t train” at area gyms.

Nelson expects to enter the fight right around the 265-pound weight limit. A week or so before arguably the biggest match of his career, Nelson conceded that he had hit up Taco Bell the night before for a taco and bean burrito. But in the next breath he said he cooks at home regularly and avoids “anything that is unhealthy.” Yes, his belly protrudes and draws a lot of attention. And Nelson is not afraid to poke fun at his robust frame, but claims his fat guy shtick is more of a marketing ploy to entertain fans.

“Being a UFC fighter or somebody in the entertainment business, you want to have attention because the more fans you have the more money you can make,” he said. “So if it’s my size, my fighting skill, I really don’t care as long I’m making fans happy and they consider me an inspiration.”

Could he lose the belly if he dieted better?

 “My ideal weight is 265,” he said. “That’s what I fight at, that’s what I win at. I look just like my dad. My dad is a little bit shorter and 215 pounds. My younger brother is 6’4”, probably 280.

“When I came out (as a newborn) I had a belly. It’s genetics. We can just chalk it up as baby fat. As long as my chest sticks out farther than my stomach then I’m OK. The thing is that it’s flat but I stick it out for the camera. It’s movie magic, that’s what I call it. Everybody likes to know how movie magic works. It’s what makes me special.”

“Fear: It will either shut you down, or make you want to perform.” – Marcus Luttrell

LAS VEGAS – One of the most gripping and heart-wrenching stories you will ever encounter is “Lone Survivor,” a No.1 bestselling book that captures the against-all-odds saga of Marcus Luttrell — the only man to miraculously escape alive from a war operation that resulted in the tragic death of 19 of his U.S. Navy Seals brethren.

In honor of his peers who perished in the remote mountains of Afghanistan at the hands of Taliban fighters, and other military personnel who return home from combat still battling a host of life-changing physical and/or mental hurdles, the 35-year-old Texan now spends a good deal of his time raising money for wounded U.S. troops through his charity, “Lone Survivor Foundation,” and the “Boot Campaign” (For info about how to donate toward these important causes, as well as how to bid on rare UFC items that are being auctioned to benefit these charities, please click on this Web site: http://www.bootcampaign.com/UFC).

Luttrell’s fundraising partnership with the UFC is fairly recent, but his love for the skyrocketing sport is not.

“I remember watching the first UFC ever,” said the recipient of the prestigious Purple Heart and Navy Cross awards, referring to UFC 1 back in November 1993. “I was in the dojo after class and we sat down together and watched it. But I never thought in a million years I’d ever get to see one live.”

The former medic/sniper has sat Octagonside at a handful of live UFC events and is poised to add UFC 130, at the MGM Grand Garden Arena on Saturday night, to that number.

“I don’t miss a UFC event unless something catastrophic happens,” said Luttrell, who stands 6’5” and weighs roughly 240 pounds.

In Luttrell’s view, a common thread unites courageous fighters and courageous soldiers. Those commonalities, and the pressure to perform under extreme conditions, are a big part of the sport’s appeal to him.

“I admire the attitude of the fighter: His body is a machine, it’s a temple,” Luttrell said. “They train so hard and do everything for that one moment. When they get into the ring my adrenaline gets pumping too — and I don’t even know most of these guys. I watch football and baseball and get pumped up, but there is something special about a fight. It’s the purest form of combat because there’s nothing standing between you and the other guy except your fists and your brain. It’s just everything I got against everything you got and let’s see who walks away with their hand up.

“The military is a huge fan base for the UFC because we pretty much walk the same line. People always say, ‘Well you guys could die.’ But, you know, there are times I’ll make it out alive. And it’s the same in that I trained and trained and trained for that one moment. Everybody knows what to do until they get punched or until the bullets start flying. There are so many things that run hand in hand in what they do and what we do. It’s just a natural fit.”

Luttrell shared a bit more about the thrills of fanhood.

“All fighters think they want to win, but sometimes things change when you get hit for the first time,” he continued. “There are guys who keep getting up, or blood is pouring down their face but they won’t wave it off. Something inside of them says ‘Keep going, keep going.’ There are those fights where a guy is being badly damaged and he looks up at the other guy like, ‘Come get some more.’ That gets my adrenaline flowing. You’ve got some guys that get tired and they quit or they break their hand and decide, ‘I’m done.’ Then you have another guy who gets a broken hand and he’s like, ‘Come on, let’s go, I’ll hit you with the other one!’ That’s the mind at work right there. It really fuels me when I see those guys who go, ‘Come get some more.’”

Luttrell’s UFC experiences peaked at UFC 98 in May 2009. His friend, former UFC welterweight kingpin Matt Hughes, delivered a surprise request before a showdown with Matt Serra.

“Hey, why don’t you walk out with me,” Hughes suggested.

“Absolutely, man,” Luttrell responded.

During Hughes’ walkout to the cage, with Hank Williams’ “A Country Boy Can Survive” blaring throughout the arena, Luttrell walked alongside the future Hall of Famer.

“That was beyond a bucket list kind of thing,” Luttrell said. “Then I got to step into the Octagon with him after the fight and give him his shirt, take his mouthpiece and things like that. It may seem trivial to everybody else but I was humbled that he would ask me to walk in his train.”

The Luttrell-Hughes bond makes a lot of sense. Both are country boys and super-tough guys. Both are loyal supporters of the U.S. military. And both are avid hunters.

“We’re still waiting for the day when we can go hunting together,” said Luttrell, who hunts about once a month throughout the world, including excursions in Africa, New Zealand and Hawaii. “Usually one of us (him or Hughes) is so busy and the other one has time off. One day we’ll go hunting. We talk about it regularly and I’m sure we’ll get it done.”

As much as Luttrell admires guys like Matt Hughes, Randy Couture and middleweight Brian Stann (a U.S. Marine who commanded combat missions in Iraq and was awarded a Silver Star), they in turn harbor exponential admiration for Luttrell’s extraordinary sacrifices and warrior spirit. Couture and Stann, as well as a host of other UFC fighters, including Jon Jones and Ryan Bader, gladly participated in the Boot Campaign.

“It’s a great way to support the troops,” Luttrell said. “The cool thing about it is that once people get the boots and get their pictures taken in ‘em and raise awareness and then pass it on, and tell all their friends about it, it just spreads like wildfire. It’s for the troops and it’s been really exciting to watch this thing grow.”

http://ufcboots.thegivingbridge.com/

Wins and losses are but one measure of a fighter. How he copes with suffering and adversity is another. Some men bleed more, endure more pain and climb from deeper depths of despair and hardship in the relentless pursuit of mission improbable than others. Cole Escovedo, without question, is one of that super-tough breed.

A decade into his career, the northern Californian finds himself days away from his UFC debut. It is a surreal achievement considering the wave of injuries that have threatened not only Escovedo’s athletic career, but also his life. How many fighters can say they underwent heart surgery as a teenager? Throw in a facial reconstruction. And the most wicked opponent of them all – partial paralysis and a doctor’s prediction that Escovedo would be lucky to ever walk again of his own volition.

“Fighting in the UFC had always been a dream of mine,” Escovedo said. “I just honestly never really thought it would ever happen. I thought that window had shut forever.”

Most everyone else who knew Escovedo presumed the same following the 2007 episode that quickly reduced Escovedo from MMA standout to disabled, bed-ridden hospital patient. The woes that besieged the former WEC featherweight champion – the first-ever to hold the title    began with little warning. The life-changer started as a tiny red bump on his left forearm. No cause for alarm, Escovedo thought, it’s probably a pimple or ingrown hair.

Within a few days, the red bump kept getting bigger and bigger.

“I started to lose feeling in my hand,” he said, “and my fingers started to go numb.”

He visited a doctor, who prescribed a course of antibiotics, pierced the wound and drained part of the infection.

But the infection continued to spread aggressively and out of control.

“It made its way into my spine and then my bloodstream and went to work,” Escovedo said. “Then the paralysis started. I started having a hard time going to the bathroom. I couldn’t urinate much. Then everything from the waist down started to lose function. I stopped urinating and using my bowels altogether. I couldn’t feel my legs. My body was shutting down. At this point I had no clue what was going on. I had a million things running through my mind. I feared it was just a matter of time that this thing will spread to my other vital organs and my heart. I had a ‘this-is-how-I’m-going-to-go-out’ kind of fear. This is how it’s going to end. I’m going to end up dead.”

Late January 2007, early morning, Escovedo underwent emergency surgery. A neurosurgeon attempted to remove a huge lump of staph that had collected in the fighter’s spine and was eating away at it.

Escovedo spent nearly two weeks in the hospital, hooked to a catheter and tubes that pumped a powerful antibiotic into his body.

“I’d gone through so much stuff in my life, so for me it was just one more thing I had to go through,” said Escovedo, who is part Apache Indian and was raised in Madera, California in California’s Central Valley, near Fresno. “My father went to prison for rape when I was 12 years old. That was a starting point for everything to come in my life. I grew up poor. My parents didn’t have much. Until age seven we lived in trailers. My parents raised me to believe, ‘No matter what, never quit.’ I’m stubborn, so having a doctor tell me I would never walk again … I’m going to decide that. I was never willing to accept the idea that I’ll never be able to fight again or never be able to walk. I always thought I would fight again.”

It took him roughly six months to re-learn how to walk without assistance, Escovedo said. Two years later, after working himself into tip-top form, he returned to the cage against a highly-promising and unbeaten prospect by the name of Michael McDonald (then 7-0). As matchmaking goes, it seemed unwise for Escovedo to face such a tough foe after a nearly three-year hiatus and a brush with mortality.

“The best Cole Escovedo ever showed up,” he said. “I pretty much felt I controlled the whole fight.

Escovedo prevailed by second-round TKO.

In a rematch, McDonald would turn the tables and triumph via second-round knockout. Escovedo (17-6) has mad respect for the 20-year-old phenom, predicting McDonald has the makings of a future UFC champ.

“Without question,” Escovedo said. “He’s young and his mental attitude is what will carry him to the next level. He’s hungry and has committed himself to this sport and it being the only thing he wants to do. That’s selfish, but you have to be that way if you’re going to be champ.”

Since the staph scare that could have easily pushed him into retirement, Escovedo has won six of eight headed into his May 28 clash with Renan Barao (27-1, 1 NC). Barao, a feared finisher and celebrated teammate of UFC featherweight kingpin Jose Aldo, is undefeated in his past 28 fights and is equally adapt standing and on the ground. The Brazilian poses a tall order for any bantamweight in the world, let alone a man making his UFC debut.

Yet, as Escovedo’s resume demonstrates (He’s fought some of the sport’s biggest names in Urijah Faber, Jens Pulver, Bart Palaszewski, Antonio Banuelos and Yoshiro Maeda), he has never been one to turn down tough opponents or challenges.

“The UFC doesn’t call you every day so I feel this is an opportunity to get in where I belong,” said Escovedo, who has submitted 12 foes and TKO’d 6 others. “At the end of the day, his (Renan’s) record is just a number and he’s just another man. On any given Sunday, that’s how I think. He’s in my way of a better lifestyle for me and my family.”

One brief remark, whether delivered with positive or malicious intent, can change a man’s life. UFC veteran Kendall Grove is proof of that.

It was the power of suggestion that guided the once-insecure Hawaiian on an unlikely path that will culminate at UFC 130 with Grove’s 13th appearance inside the Octagon. Unbeknownst to many, the catalyst for Grove’s conversion to the sport is a provocative figure known more for his mercurial temper and four-letter words than his mentoring skills.

“F—, you should fight. You got potential.”

The man doing the talking: Phil “The New York Badass” Baroni.

Baroni’s high praise toward Grove came circa 2002-2003 in Las Vegas, a time when Baroni sported a 5-1 record, and had earned a reputation as one of the UFC’s most ferocious knockout artists. The swaggering bundle of fistic fury was widely feared, even by his sparring partners.

“For me, a kid from Maui … I was ashamed and too embarrassed to fight in front of everyone,” Grove recalled of his mindset back then. “But this guy who fights in the UFC – who just destroyed Dave Menne – he’s a (freakin’) animal and I’m sparring with him and he’s kicking my ass but I’m coming back every day – told me I should fight. If anybody else had said that to me I probably wouldn’t be fighting.

“I thought to myself, ‘If this guy (Baroni) sees something in me then maybe I’ve got a shot.’ I ran with it and put all of my chips on the table.”

Baroni’s compliment sparked the dawn of a new day. Grove, who had simply been content training Brazilian jiu-jitsu and Muay Thai, and competing in grappling tournaments, turned MMA pro in July 2003, prevailing by first round triangle choke. Three years later, in the highlight of his career, Grove toppled Ed Herman to win season three of The Ultimate Fighter and earn a six-figure UFC contract.

Now 14-8 with 1 NC headed into next week’s showdown with Tim “The Barbarian” Boetsch (12-4), Grove has weathered the highs and lows of the fight game. The highs: wins over former UFC champ Evan Tanner, Alan Belcher, Jake Rosholt and Goran Reljic. The lows: back-to-back TKO losses to Patrick Cote and Jorge Rivera at UFC 74 and 80, respectively.

“Those two losses weren’t my downfall,” the 28-year-old Grove said. “I see those losses as world-class athletes showing me holes in my game. My losing was because of me getting caught up in the spotlight and thinking ‘you’re the s—.’ That was my downfall. Thank God Jorge and Cote put me in my place and knocked me back down to reality.”

With that lesson learned, portraying humility seems to be at the forefront of Grove as he talks about himself and his life. Whenever he says something positive about himself or his fight game – as virtually all fighters naturally do during media interviews – Grove almost apologetically prefaces his comments with “Not to sound cocky but …”

Yet as much as Grove would like to lay low and just “be one of the guys,” his towering 6’6” frame ensures that he will usually stand out in a crowd and command attention from others. His height is even more remarkable when you consider that Grove, at birth, was born two months premature and weighed just 2 and ½ pounds at birth.

“My mom almost died giving birth to me in Maui,” he said. “I was MedEVAC’d to a medical center in Oahu and my father flew with me. The first night that I was born my father was sleeping by my side. He said I had an incubator and all of these tubes running into my nose and mouth. He said that my heart rate flatlined a few times and that he would panic and rub my heart real soft and lightly to get my heart rate going again. And then boom it would start again. He said he did that three or four times, and then after that I was good.”

By his sophomore year of high school, Grove was 5 feet 10 inches tall. By senior year he had added six more inches. The unexpected bump in elevation invited the obvious encouragement from others. “You should play basketball” was a common refrain to teenage Grove’s ears.

One thing shied Grove away from hoops – he was dysfunctional with a basketball, incredibly uncoordinated off the dribble. Despite his ideal frame and extraordinarily long arms – making him at the very least a capable shot blocker – the game did not come natural to him. He was a wrestler. A 6’4”, 157-pound wrestler. He lost a little more than he won, but loved the sport still.

A special person in his life changed his mind. It was Uncle Derrick. He was dying from cancer and young Kendall occasionally cared for him.

“You should play basketball,” his uncle said.

For anyone else, the answer would have been ‘no.’ But soon enough, Kendall Grove was auditioning for his varsity basketball team in Maui. By his own recollection, he shined at the free throw line.

“I could make 95 percent of my free throws,” he said.

Unfortunately, free throw skill marked the beginning and the end of Grove’s skills on the hardwood.

“I was one of the first cut,” he said. “I suck at playing basketball. I just couldn’t get the coordination down with the dribbling and passing. I would panic. Basketball wasn’t for me.”

Reunited with wrestling, he would go on to finish 6th in Hawaii’s state wrestling tournament. Yet Grove was, by his own account, far from a spectacular athlete. In fact, the hands-down best athlete in his family was his brother, Chad Kauhaahaa, a defensive lineman who starred on the University of Utah football team in the early 1990s.

Kauhaahaa, now the defensive line coach at his alma mater, has attended several of his younger brother’s fights and is expected to be in the audience cheering Kendall on at UFC 130. The matchup between Grove and Boetsch is intriguing for several reasons. First, it marks Boetsch’s debut at 185 pounds. Second, it pits brute power (Boetsch) versus scrappiness and finesse (Grove).

“He’s a big, strong fighter with powerful strikes,” Grove said. “He goes for it – but that’s at 205. He might be the same at 185, but we’ll see what the weight cut does to him. But I like that he comes to fight and won’t just come in, try to take me down and hold me down.”

Though Boetsch has finished 11 of his 12 foes (six TKOs, five submissions), Grove notes that his style and freakishly long limbs have posed big problems for a lot of opponents.

“I’m a hard person to prepare for; I’m one of a kind. I have my own style and a long reach, so it’s hard to mimic,” Grove said. “I saw it in my last fight. Damian Maia couldn’t submit me for s—. I should have done more. I gave him too much respect. Even when he had my back and had me mounted I didn’t feel threatened. I always felt comfortable.

“I’m beatable. I’m still growing in the sport. I’m a medium-sized fish now but I’m trying to swim with the sharks. I ain’t the best fighter but I can beat some of the best. Any given Sunday, right?”

One brief remark, whether delivered with positive or malicious intent, can change a man’s life. UFC veteran Kendall Grove is proof of that.

It was the power of suggestion that guided the once-insecure Hawaiian on an unlikely path that will culminate at UFC 130 with Grove’s 13th appearance inside the Octagon. Unbeknownst to many, the catalyst for Grove’s conversion to the sport is a provocative figure known more for his mercurial temper and four-letter words than his mentoring skills.

“F—, you should fight. You got potential.”

The man doing the talking: Phil “The New York Badass” Baroni.

Baroni’s high praise toward Grove came circa 2002-2003 in Las Vegas, a time when Baroni sported a 5-1 record, and had earned a reputation as one of the UFC’s most ferocious knockout artists. The swaggering bundle of fistic fury was widely feared, even by his sparring partners.

“For me, a kid from Maui … I was ashamed and too embarrassed to fight in front of everyone,” Grove recalled of his mindset back then. “But this guy who fights in the UFC – who just destroyed Dave Menne – he’s a (freakin’) animal and I’m sparring with him and he’s kicking my ass but I’m coming back every day – told me I should fight. If anybody else had said that to me I probably wouldn’t be fighting.

“I thought to myself, ‘If this guy (Baroni) sees something in me then maybe I’ve got a shot.’ I ran with it and put all of my chips on the table.”

Baroni’s compliment sparked the dawn of a new day. Grove, who had simply been content training Brazilian jiu-jitsu and Muay Thai, and competing in grappling tournaments, turned MMA pro in July 2003, prevailing by first round triangle choke. Three years later, in the highlight of his career, Grove toppled Ed Herman to win season three of The Ultimate Fighter and earn a six-figure UFC contract.

Now 14-8 with 1 NC headed into next week’s showdown with Tim “The Barbarian” Boetsch (12-4), Grove has weathered the highs and lows of the fight game. The highs: wins over former UFC champ Evan Tanner, Alan Belcher, Jake Rosholt and Goran Reljic. The lows: back-to-back TKO losses to Patrick Cote and Jorge Rivera at UFC 74 and 80, respectively.

“Those two losses weren’t my downfall,” the 28-year-old Grove said. “I see those losses as world-class athletes showing me holes in my game. My losing was because of me getting caught up in the spotlight and thinking ‘you’re the s—.’ That was my downfall. Thank God Jorge and Cote put me in my place and knocked me back down to reality.”

With that lesson learned, portraying humility seems to be at the forefront of Grove as he talks about himself and his life. Whenever he says something positive about himself or his fight game – as virtually all fighters naturally do during media interviews – Grove almost apologetically prefaces his comments with “Not to sound cocky but …”

Yet as much as Grove would like to lay low and just “be one of the guys,” his towering 6’6” frame ensures that he will usually stand out in a crowd and command attention from others. His height is even more remarkable when you consider that Grove, at birth, was born two months premature and weighed just 2 and ½ pounds at birth.

“My mom almost died giving birth to me in Maui,” he said. “I was MedEVAC’d to a medical center in Oahu and my father flew with me. The first night that I was born my father was sleeping by my side. He said I had an incubator and all of these tubes running into my nose and mouth. He said that my heart rate flatlined a few times and that he would panic and rub my heart real soft and lightly to get my heart rate going again. And then boom it would start again. He said he did that three or four times, and then after that I was good.”

By his sophomore year of high school, Grove was 5 feet 10 inches tall. By senior year he had added six more inches. The unexpected bump in elevation invited the obvious encouragement from others. “You should play basketball” was a common refrain to teenage Grove’s ears.

One thing shied Grove away from hoops – he was dysfunctional with a basketball, incredibly uncoordinated off the dribble. Despite his ideal frame and extraordinarily long arms – making him at the very least a capable shot blocker – the game did not come natural to him. He was a wrestler. A 6’4”, 157-pound wrestler. He lost a little more than he won, but loved the sport still.

A special person in his life changed his mind. It was Uncle Derrick. He was dying from cancer and young Kendall occasionally cared for him.

“You should play basketball,” his uncle said.

For anyone else, the answer would have been ‘no.’ But soon enough, Kendall Grove was auditioning for his varsity basketball team in Maui. By his own recollection, he shined at the free throw line.

“I could make 95 percent of my free throws,” he said.

Unfortunately, free throw skill marked the beginning and the end of Grove’s skills on the hardwood.

“I was one of the first cut,” he said. “I suck at playing basketball. I just couldn’t get the coordination down with the dribbling and passing. I would panic. Basketball wasn’t for me.”

Reunited with wrestling, he would go on to finish 6th in Hawaii’s state wrestling tournament. Yet Grove was, by his own account, far from a spectacular athlete. In fact, the hands-down best athlete in his family was his brother, Chad Kauhaahaa, a defensive lineman who starred on the University of Utah football team in the early 1990s.

Kauhaahaa, now the defensive line coach at his alma mater, has attended several of his younger brother’s fights and is expected to be in the audience cheering Kendall on at UFC 130. The matchup between Grove and Boetsch is intriguing for several reasons. First, it marks Boetsch’s debut at 185 pounds. Second, it pits brute power (Boetsch) versus scrappiness and finesse (Grove).

“He’s a big, strong fighter with powerful strikes,” Grove said. “He goes for it – but that’s at 205. He might be the same at 185, but we’ll see what the weight cut does to him. But I like that he comes to fight and won’t just come in, try to take me down and hold me down.”

Though Boetsch has finished 11 of his 12 foes (six TKOs, five submissions), Grove notes that his style and freakishly long limbs have posed big problems for a lot of opponents.

“I’m a hard person to prepare for; I’m one of a kind. I have my own style and a long reach, so it’s hard to mimic,” Grove said. “I saw it in my last fight. Damian Maia couldn’t submit me for s—. I should have done more. I gave him too much respect. Even when he had my back and had me mounted I didn’t feel threatened. I always felt comfortable.

“I’m beatable. I’m still growing in the sport. I’m a medium-sized fish now but I’m trying to swim with the sharks. I ain’t the best fighter but I can beat some of the best. Any given Sunday, right?”

One brief remark, whether delivered with positive or malicious intent, can change a man’s life. UFC veteran Kendall Grove is proof of that.

It was the power of suggestion that guided the once-insecure Hawaiian on an unlikely path that will culminate at UFC 130 with Grove’s 13th appearance inside the Octagon. Unbeknownst to many, the catalyst for Grove’s conversion to the sport is a provocative figure known more for his mercurial temper and four-letter words than his mentoring skills.

“F—, you should fight. You got potential.”

The man doing the talking: Phil “The New York Badass” Baroni.

Baroni’s high praise toward Grove came circa 2002-2003 in Las Vegas, a time when Baroni sported a 5-1 record, and had earned a reputation as one of the UFC’s most ferocious knockout artists. The swaggering bundle of fistic fury was widely feared, even by his sparring partners.

“For me, a kid from Maui … I was ashamed and too embarrassed to fight in front of everyone,” Grove recalled of his mindset back then. “But this guy who fights in the UFC – who just destroyed Dave Menne – he’s a (freakin’) animal and I’m sparring with him and he’s kicking my ass but I’m coming back every day – told me I should fight. If anybody else had said that to me I probably wouldn’t be fighting.

“I thought to myself, ‘If this guy (Baroni) sees something in me then maybe I’ve got a shot.’ I ran with it and put all of my chips on the table.”

Baroni’s compliment sparked the dawn of a new day. Grove, who had simply been content training Brazilian jiu-jitsu and Muay Thai, and competing in grappling tournaments, turned MMA pro in July 2003, prevailing by first round triangle choke. Three years later, in the highlight of his career, Grove toppled Ed Herman to win season three of The Ultimate Fighter and earn a six-figure UFC contract.

Now 14-8 with 1 NC headed into next week’s showdown with Tim “The Barbarian” Boetsch (12-4), Grove has weathered the highs and lows of the fight game. The highs: wins over former UFC champ Evan Tanner, Alan Belcher, Jake Rosholt and Goran Reljic. The lows: back-to-back TKO losses to Patrick Cote and Jorge Rivera at UFC 74 and 80, respectively.

“Those two losses weren’t my downfall,” the 28-year-old Grove said. “I see those losses as world-class athletes showing me holes in my game. My losing was because of me getting caught up in the spotlight and thinking ‘you’re the s—.’ That was my downfall. Thank God Jorge and Cote put me in my place and knocked me back down to reality.”

With that lesson learned, portraying humility seems to be at the forefront of Grove as he talks about himself and his life. Whenever he says something positive about himself or his fight game – as virtually all fighters naturally do during media interviews – Grove almost apologetically prefaces his comments with “Not to sound cocky but …”

Yet as much as Grove would like to lay low and just “be one of the guys,” his towering 6’6” frame ensures that he will usually stand out in a crowd and command attention from others. His height is even more remarkable when you consider that Grove, at birth, was born two months premature and weighed just 2 and ½ pounds at birth.

“My mom almost died giving birth to me in Maui,” he said. “I was MedEVAC’d to a medical center in Oahu and my father flew with me. The first night that I was born my father was sleeping by my side. He said I had an incubator and all of these tubes running into my nose and mouth. He said that my heart rate flatlined a few times and that he would panic and rub my heart real soft and lightly to get my heart rate going again. And then boom it would start again. He said he did that three or four times, and then after that I was good.”

By his sophomore year of high school, Grove was 5 feet 10 inches tall. By senior year he had added six more inches. The unexpected bump in elevation invited the obvious encouragement from others. “You should play basketball” was a common refrain to teenage Grove’s ears.

One thing shied Grove away from hoops – he was dysfunctional with a basketball, incredibly uncoordinated off the dribble. Despite his ideal frame and extraordinarily long arms – making him at the very least a capable shot blocker – the game did not come natural to him. He was a wrestler. A 6’4”, 157-pound wrestler. He lost a little more than he won, but loved the sport still.

A special person in his life changed his mind. It was Uncle Derrick. He was dying from cancer and young Kendall occasionally cared for him.

“You should play basketball,” his uncle said.

For anyone else, the answer would have been ‘no.’ But soon enough, Kendall Grove was auditioning for his varsity basketball team in Maui. By his own recollection, he shined at the free throw line.

“I could make 95 percent of my free throws,” he said.

Unfortunately, free throw skill marked the beginning and the end of Grove’s skills on the hardwood.

“I was one of the first cut,” he said. “I suck at playing basketball. I just couldn’t get the coordination down with the dribbling and passing. I would panic. Basketball wasn’t for me.”

Reunited with wrestling, he would go on to finish 6th in Hawaii’s state wrestling tournament. Yet Grove was, by his own account, far from a spectacular athlete. In fact, the hands-down best athlete in his family was his brother, Chad Kauhaahaa, a defensive lineman who starred on the University of Utah football team in the early 1990s.

Kauhaahaa, now the defensive line coach at his alma mater, has attended several of his younger brother’s fights and is expected to be in the audience cheering Kendall on at UFC 130. The matchup between Grove and Boetsch is intriguing for several reasons. First, it marks Boetsch’s debut at 185 pounds. Second, it pits brute power (Boetsch) versus scrappiness and finesse (Grove).

“He’s a big, strong fighter with powerful strikes,” Grove said. “He goes for it – but that’s at 205. He might be the same at 185, but we’ll see what the weight cut does to him. But I like that he comes to fight and won’t just come in, try to take me down and hold me down.”

Though Boetsch has finished 11 of his 12 foes (six TKOs, five submissions), Grove notes that his style and freakishly long limbs have posed big problems for a lot of opponents.

“I’m a hard person to prepare for; I’m one of a kind. I have my own style and a long reach, so it’s hard to mimic,” Grove said. “I saw it in my last fight. Damian Maia couldn’t submit me for s—. I should have done more. I gave him too much respect. Even when he had my back and had me mounted I didn’t feel threatened. I always felt comfortable.

“I’m beatable. I’m still growing in the sport. I’m a medium-sized fish now but I’m trying to swim with the sharks. I ain’t the best fighter but I can beat some of the best. Any given Sunday, right?”