More than 14,000 fans packed the American Airlines Center in Dallas the last time Elias Theodorou stood face to face with another man, only the referee standing between them and pure chaos. With 53 seconds left in the second round of that fight, a feat…
More than 14,000 fans packed the American Airlines Center in Dallas the last time Elias Theodorou stood face to face with another man, only the referee standing between them and pure chaos. With 53 seconds left in the second round of that fight, a featured prelim at UFC 185, the 27-year-old former The Ultimate Fighter winner overwhelmed poor Roger Narvaez with persistent ground-and-pound.
The win marked the 11th in his perfect professional career and third in the UFC’s Octagon. With that record, Canada’s dearth of native-born prospects and his model looks, it’s a track record that could lead to big things in the future.
It would have been easy then, for the UFC star to look down his nose at the tiny Great Hall in Toronto and the 200 fans who showed up there to watch him step into the ring against veteran Kris Chambers.
Instead, the butterflies were real—and so was the risk. This, after all, wasn’t the UFC. It wasn’t even MMA. Only July 18, 2015, Theodorou wasn’t even himself. As “Greece Lightning,” he became the next in a growing list of fighters to blur the lines between sport and sports entertainment.
“Pro wrestling is something every 14-year-old boy wants to do when they grow up,” Theodorou told Bleacher Report. “I thought I’d have some fun, and that’s what the night was about. I’m a professional athlete and really didn’t want to get hurt. The last thing I want to do is have to tell anyone at the UFC ‘Yeah, I’d love to fight but I broke my ankle doing pro wrestling.’ So, obviously, safety was first. But I got to unveil my alter ego and take a crack at it.”
Stepping into the ring, however, was more than mere wish fulfillment. There was a method to his madness—and plenty to learn from another group of professionals who make their living convincing fans to watch them perform.
“It’s not just how good you are—it’s how many people want to come and see you,” Theodorou said. “It doesn’t matter if they love you or hate you. Just so long as they want to watch you. Pro wrestlers are great at finding a storyline. And that’s something a lot of UFC fighters lack. People are spending their hard-earned money on what you’re trying to sell.”
While the appearance for the independent Superkick’d promotion didn’t have the grandeur of Ronda Rousey’s WrestleMania appearance or garner the attention CM Punk’s departure from the squared circle for the cage did, Theodorou certainly looked to be having the most fun. Wearing white tights and running a brush through his trademark locks, he did his very best Shawn Michaels impression en route to victory with a Superman punch off the ropes.
“I have total respect for what they do and the bumps and the bruises that come with it,” Theodorou said. “Kris Chambers was the real pro wrestler, and I was basically following his lead. I had a great pro wrestler show me the ropes, pun intended. He made me look good as a guest in his home.
“I did my due diligence. I don’t half a– anything, spent a couple days a week for a month in training with Superkick’d. A great group of guys who really took care of me.”
While he didn’t close the door completely on a career in “a–less chaps—because who doesn’t want to wear a–less chaps,” Theodorou made it clear the UFC was his priority for the time being.
“I’m not ready to become a pro wrestler or be the next Ken Shamrock any time soon. I’m focused on getting ready for my next fight. But down the line, when I hang up my gloves? You never know. I just wanted to do it for s—s and giggles—but I don’t think I looked too bad to be perfectly honest. I’m a mixed martial artists, but I’m also an entertainer.”
Jonathan Snowden covers combat sports for Bleacher Report.
He came to Las Vegas and UFC 189 with the strength of a nation, as thousands of Irishmen joined him on the Strip for a weekend no one will soon forget. For new UFC interim featherweight champion Conor McGregor, Saturday night was going to be a raucous …
He came to Las Vegas and UFC 189 with the strength of a nation, as thousands of Irishmen joined him on the Strip for a weekend no one will soon forget. For new UFC interim featherweight champion Conor McGregor, Saturday night was going to be a raucous party or the world’s most raucous funeral.
A thunderous left hand made sure all the tears were joyful, sending opponent Chad Mendes turtling to the mat and ushering in a new era—or perhaps a new Eire.
Aging pop star Sinead O’Connor set the tone, with her version of the classic ballad The Foggy Dew reminding everyone from the Emerald Isle of the contest’s stakes. McGregor, more than any other fighter in UFC history, wasn’t fighting for himself alone—he represented the Irish, as he was propelled by their power but also burdened by their weight.
It’s an old romance, that between the people and their amorous cavalier. Patriotism, pride and ancient ethnic enmity have long powered combat sports. In fact, British boxer Ricky Hatton had been in McGregor’s shoes in the very same building— but his barbarous hordes and all their heraldries could do little to help him against Floyd Mayweather Jr.
But McGregor is no Hatton. And Mendes, despite sharing a nickname, is no Mayweather.
Whippet thin but healthy, McGregor emerged Saturday a far cry from the man who appeared the day before at the weigh-in meager, barefoot and wan. Confidence was his game, a swagger powered by defiance, hate and scorn—a serpent in man’s form.
Mendes, as many expected, provided the test that had to eventually come. With just two weeks to train, the former All-American remained a sleeping dragon with a ready shield. He landed early, with hard punches and easy takedowns. McGregor took it in stride, with his iron chin putting doubt into the wrestler’s eyes and no doubt fear into his heart.
McGregor, it turned out, is susceptible to the takedown, a kryptonite that also plagued UFC legend Anderson Silva. His stance, legs spread impossibly far apart, makes him easy game for a powerful wrestler. But, like Silva, he was calm on his back, even in the face of serious firepower, throwing elbows of his own from the bottom and delivering a harsh penance whenever he eventually returned to his feet.
The best you could say for McGregor, through most of two rounds, was that he was a survivor, a tough guy who ate Mendes’ best shots but couldn’t defend his best shots—a flawed fighter who needed some time back at the drawing board.
“Make no mistake, Mendes was winning the fight,” Fox Sports analyst Kenny Florian said after the bout. “He was doing unbelievable in the fight.”
But though he was winning on all three judges’ scorecards, Mendes looked for a finish early, trying to secure a guillotine choke rather than secure his position when McGregor attempted to escape to his feet late in the second round.
Whether it was his short training camp, McGregor’s vicious body kicks or both, Mendes looked spent. With three long rounds looming, perhaps the dream of early victory seemed preferable to the grind of dealing with McGregor’s power for 15 more minutes.
It was a fatal mistake. A reinvigorated McGregor creased the right side of Mendes’ face—“the soft part” as he likes to say—with a left hand that dropped Money to the mat. McGregor’s is an unmatched dedication to the kill, to ensuring victory with a fighter’s best tools—his fists.
“I’m overwhelmed,” McGregor said after the fight. “When I stopped my opponent I jumped up on the cage I was so excited. I’m blown away. I put a lot of work into this. It came out of me after the fight. The buildup to this, the up and down, it was a lot of work. I’m just blown away.”
The MGM Grand Garden Arena exploded in the pure joy; it emitted a festive clarion of triumph. But the boisterous din must eventually abate, and McGregor must eventually face an even more daunting task—the one who originally brought him to Las Vegas in the first place.
Longtime champion Jose Aldo looms.
“Jose Aldo is a little more nervous right now,” UFC light heavyweight champion Daniel Cormier said on Fox Sports 1 after the fight. “I’m picking McGregor in any stand-up fight he gets now, and all wrestlers are scared of him now.”
When the fight finally occurs, it will be bigger than ever. A huge crowd of 16,019 fans crowded the arena for this bout, drawing an American MMA record gate of $7.2 million. After months of buildup, a world tour and McGregor’s emergence as the true, rightful top contender, the fight might actually end up being exactly what UFC President Dana White promised it would be: the biggest fight in UFC history.
The key to it all is McGregor. The trash talk and his motor mouth delivered him to this stage. But it is incredible power and his power of will that will keep him here. Yes, he’s beatable. Mendes showed cracks in his armor, but it will require 25 minutes of perfection and discipline to take advantage of them.
When McGregor hits people, they stay hit. It’s a rare power that cures many ills and guarantees he’s always in the fight, even when his opponent appears to be winning. This combination of vulnerability and fearsome ability is the golden ticket to box-office riches.
None of this will come as a surprise to his legions of fans. But even his critics can no longer deny the obvious—McGregor is for real.
Jonathan Snowden covers combat sports for Bleacher Report.
Everywhere you look, there he is.
If the UFC had its own television network, The Conor McGregor Show would be running on replay all day every day. Would it be its most-watched show? We’ll find out if the rubber meets the road this Saturday ni…
Everywhere you look, there he is.
If the UFC had its own television network, The Conor McGregor Show would be running on replay all day every day. Would it be its most-watched show? We’ll find out if the rubber meets the road this Saturday night at UFC 189 in Las Vegas.
Early indications are good. Conor McGregor’s showcase fight versus Dennis Siver on Fox Sports 1 did gangbuster ratings for the fledgling sports network. On the latest installment of UFC Tonight, UFC President Dana White predicted UFC 189 was trending toward being the biggest event in UFC history.
With all the time and money the UFC has sunk into its ambitious new company man, Jonathan Snowden and Brian Oswald, Bleacher Report’s version of Simon and Garfunkel, are here to answer the one question on everyone’s mind—does the UFC have too many eggs in one basket?
Oswald: McGregor is a force of nature. It didn’t even matter that the champion, Jose Aldo, was forced to pull out of the fight due to a broken rib. The UFC simply inserted perennial contender Chad Mendes and the The Conor McGregor Show appears to be rolling on better than ever.
For a fight promotion that’s seemingly fallen on hard times over the last few years—be it sagging PPV numbers or the injury bug that it can’t seem to catch a break from—the breath of fresh air that is Conor McGregor must feel like sunshine on its shoulders.
But lest we forget, McGregor is only five fights into his UFC career. And in a division chock-full of strapping wrestlers, the flashy stand-up fighter has faced a grand total of zero. Mendes will be the first—and he’s possibly the worst stylistic matchup in the featherweight division’s stacked deck of cards.
If Mendes goes out there and stomps through McGregor like he’s a field of daisies, well that is less than ideal for his long-term marketability.
Snowden: The UFC took a big risk here. The show has been at the forefront of its promotional efforts since the amazing World Tour all the way back in March. Every other event, even the big UFC heavyweight title fight between Cain Velasquez and Fabricio Werdum, was given short shrift.
With that in mind, is it any wonder White was so furious in the wake of Aldo’s injury?
When the UFC brass looks at McGregor, it sees a combination of Chuck Liddell and Chael Sonnen, a charismatic knockout artist with a gift for sales. Every promoter dreams of an athlete like that. So do fans. That’s why McGregor has created such a buzz, not only in his native Ireland but around the world. We desperately want him to be everything he appears to be.
But what if he’s not?
UFC matchmakers, traditionally, employ a wrestling test. Before the promotion really gets behind a fighter, officials put him in the cage with a competent American grappler. If he passes the test, it’s full speed ahead. If not, it’s back to the drawing board.
McGregor has advanced to the top of the sport without passing that all-important test. What if Chad Mendes comes into the MGM Grand on no real notice and turns the UFC’s pleasant daydream into a nightmare?
The UFC has invested millions of dollars and months of precious promotional muscle in a fighter who might not have the ability to thrive at the highest level. That has to be a scary feeling.
Oswald: Scary indeed. It would be unfair to fault White for any unsavory emotions he’s holding onto in the wake of Aldo p–sing out. McGregor’s words, not mine. If only the UFC could have found a named doctor to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt Aldo’s ribs were merely bruised and not broken. But I digress.
It must be the luck of the Irish that McGregor successfully sidestepped wrestlers like Darren Elkins, Clay Guida, Nik Lentz, Dennis Bermudez, Ricardo Lamas and Frankie Edgar en route to a title shot. No offense to the guys he did beat, like Dennis Siver and Dustin Poirier, but they couldn’t take down a ceiling fan if they hung from it.
And none of those guys can hold a candle to Mendes. I was joking with our brother in arms Chad Dundas that if I were the UFC I’d think about pumping sleeping gas into Mendes’ corner between Rounds 1 and 2 for good measure. Maybe place a booby trap under his corner stool.
But seriously. When you find a guy who has the sizzle of Chael Sonnen (and then some), and possibly the steak of Chuck Liddell (and then some), how can you not try to capture that kind of lightening in a bottle? Not only that, but he packs a whole country in his suitcase every time he fights outside of his homeland of Ireland. It all comes down to whether McGregor has as much streak as he does sizzle. FYI: Mendes is a big meat eater.
One more thing before I kick it back your way: What’s up with the UFC allowing former pop star Sinead O’Connor to serenade McGregor as he makes his way out to the Octagon? I’m sure it will be a lovely moment. But has the UFC ever allowed such razzle-dazzle for any fighter in the history of the sport?
Snowden: “Who’s in the house? The Iceman’s in the house.”
Before there was Conor McGregor, there was Chuck Liddell, Zuffa’s original golden boy. Dana White was a manager of some renown before becoming UFC president; Liddell was his favorite client and the relationship never faltered. Pushing the “Iceman” to the top was a clear goal for the new UFC boss—but it didn’t always go smoothly.
First, White commissioned custom intro music for the rising star, concocting a bizarre entrance that included TapOut’s Mask and the the sounds of faded rap star Vanilla Ice. The already silly spectacle looked even sillier when the promotion’s chosen fall guy, Randy Couture, went out and beat Liddell on the very night the expensive song debuted.
Months later the UFC put company pride, and $250,000 of White’s money, on the line by sending Liddell to compete in rival Pride FC’s Middleweight Grand Prix. The plan was for Liddell to settle all questions about which company had the better fighters by mopping the deck with Pride kingpin Wanderlei Silva.
Instead, the UFC’s representative was eliminated in the semifinals by eventual runner-up Quinton Jackson and White very publicly threw him under the bus in the commentary booth, repeating “Chuck’s not following the game plan” over and over again like a mantra.
You have to give the UFC and White credit, though—they didn’t give up. Eventually Liddell was able to get the better of a 41-year-old Couture and secure a UFC title. In time, he became the legend White yearned for him to be. And that’s good news for McGregor. If he falters here against Mendes, he will surely get another chance or three to make it right. He’s the UFC’s guy, whether he deserves to be or not.
Oswald: The White-Liddell relationship raises an interesting thought. Is it possible that White never entirely gave up on the idea of “managing” fighters?
He’s the president of a private corporation. He’s also a carnival barker and a promoter in the Don King mold. Maybe after all of this time he still fancies himself as a manager of sorts—but for his fighters, the handful of top stars like McGregor and Ronda Rousey the UFC has gotten behind.
People think of McGregor as this brash and braggadocios rebel rouser, but really he’s the model employee for what the UFC wants. Keep in mind the UFC is not General Electric or Google; it is in the face-punching business.
So to answer the question we posed earlier: Does the UFC have too many eggs in the Conor McGregor Basket? I’d say absolutely not. Did you happen to catch the weigh-ins yesterday?
Even if he gets put on his back and pounded by Mendes, UFC 189 is still reeling in a monumental live gate and pay-per-view buy rate off of McGregor. And it’ll still be able to turn around and promote him until he’s lost enough fights that people don’t care anymore. Even after Brock Lesnar got destroyed by Cain Velasquez, people still tuned in to see him get pummeled by Alistair Overeem. They’ll be able to milk McGregor until there’s nothing left but his Irish accent.
But if he does beat Mendes? Well, then the UFC certainly has something on its hands the likes of which its brass, or its fans, have never seen.
Faith Van Duin may have been standing in the opposite corner, but the Kiwi grappler was never Cris Cyborg’s opponent at Invicta 13. Not really.
As always, Cyborg was battling expectations, combating memories, attempting to live up to her fearsome reput…
Faith Van Duin may have been standing in the opposite corner, but the Kiwi grappler was never Cris Cyborg’s opponent at Invicta 13. Not really.
As always, Cyborg was battling expectations, combating memories, attempting to live up to her fearsome reputation as the world’s most dangerous female fighter. It’s a daunting task—but in just 45 seconds she delivered in a big way, crushing poor Van Duin with a knee to the body and finishing her business with punches on the ground.
After the fight, her message to the fight world was every bit as blunt as her devastating striking.
The two women have been on a collision course for years. Rousey, the UFC’s bantamweight champion, is the face of women’s mixed martial arts. The blonde bombshell, as comfortable in front of the television cameras as she is in the cage, has all the tools to become the most compelling fighter in the sport.
In some ways, however, Rousey is just a little bit too good. Like Cyborg, there’s never any doubt about the outcome of a Rousey fight. It’s a question of how long she’ll play with her food before finishing a bout, not whether or not she’ll win.
Beating up a series of hapless opponents was enough when Rousey was establishing her brand and making a case for women on the sport’s grandest stage. She’s won that fight already, resoundingly.
It’s harder now, in the wake of her destruction, to get excited about a Rousey fight. Even manufactured drama against the likes of Bethe Correia is only so compelling. After all, is there really any doubt what’s going to happen when the two women step into the cage?
A Cyborg fight would be different. Instead of assuming the result in advance, there would be substantive debate. Battle lines would form in the MMA world. People would care.
Cyborg is the kind of opponent Rousey needs to continue pouring coal into the women’s MMA freight train. It’s the kind of classic battle that has defined the sport from its earliest days—science and technique versus strength and pure animal brawn. It’s the kind of fight that turns champions into legends.
“I think everybody want to watch this fight,” Cyborg told MMA Fighting’s Marc Raimondi. “I think it’s very important for women’s MMA. I want to be part of this. The first very important fight was with Gina Carano, and I’m very happy about this…I fight Ronda Rousey, I fight two big events. I helped grow up women’s MMA.”
The stumbling block to making this obvious fight actually happen is weight. Cyborg fights at 145 pounds and weighs up to 175 pounds when she’s not competing. Cutting to 135 pounds for a Rousey bout may simply be impossible.
“I already have a lot of problems about cutting weight, dieting and a lot of things,” Cyborg told the media. “It’s not healthy what we do. Drop to 135? And be healthy? OK, of course.”
Cyborg has proposed an elegant solution to what might otherwise be a fight-killing problem—that the two meet in the middle at 140 pounds. Rousey, who once fought in the 145-pound class herself and competed at the Olympics in Judo at 154 pounds, is well suited physically to match up well with her there.
As the more popular fighter she could draw a line in the sand and refuse to make this concession. There are hints that she will. That would be a mistake.
Rousey’s goal is to be the greatest fighter ever. Not the greatest female fighter. The greatest fighter. Making that case will be tough—and you can’t do it against overmatched, hapless foes like Correia. If Rousey really wants to be the best, she needs a rival worthy of song.
A little more than six months ago, the UFC’s best fighter Jon Jones strolled to the cage and made easy work of his rival Daniel Cormier, putting an end to a blood feud that ultimately featured more smoke than fire.
In some ways that fight feels like ye…
A little more than six months ago, the UFC’s best fighter Jon Jones strolled to the cage and made easy work of his rival Daniel Cormier, putting an end to a blood feud that ultimately featured more smoke than fire.
In some ways that fight feels like yesterday, the rest of the year a blur of interchangeable events and ubiquitous UFC action. In other ways, UFC 182 was a lifetime ago.
The next time a fighter, any fighter, steps into the cage, he will be sporting Reebok and not whatever sponsor has supported him throughout his career. The drug testing procedures and policies governing his bout will be substantially changed, the punishments frighteningly severe. Misbehavior outside the cage will no longer be tolerated.
It’s a brand-new world—and Bleacher Report’s lead MMA writers have gathered together to discuss this startling transformation of our sport. Have some thoughts of your own to add? Come and join us in the comments.
There is no such thing as consensus when discussing MMA history. It’s both fractured and fiercely contested, with fans separating into self-selected groups and arguing on message boards and Twitter. Dividing lines have been drawn and hyperbole reigns.
…
There is no such thing as consensus when discussing MMA history. It’s both fractured and fiercely contested, with fans separating into self-selected groups and arguing on message boards and Twitter. Dividing lines have been drawn and hyperbole reigns.
If you want to see how bad it can get, simply ask any group of hardcore fans who the best fighter in the sport’s history is, then stand back and watch the fireworks. You’ll see fighters like Jon Jones and FedorEmelianenko lavishly praised and dismissed as utter frauds—often in the same conversation. This is not a fanbase big on nuance.
Jose Aldo cuts through the partisanship in many ways. Because, with Aldo, there’s not much to dispute. He is the greatest UFC featherweight champion of all time. Period. We can say that definitively because he happens to be the only champion the division has ever seen.
That’s about to change.
Tuesday on Sports Center, UFC President Dana White announced that Aldo was pulling out of his title defense at UFC 189 on July 11 in Las Vegas with a rib injury. Instead, top contenders ConorMcGregor and Chad Mendes will fight for the interim title and the honor of becoming the second man to claim gold at 145 pounds.
“It’s (Aldo’s) decision. I don’t feel great about it,” White said. “We’ve spent a lot of money promoting this fight and a lot of people were excited. It’s definitely disappointing.”
The UFC clearly wants to be in the McGregor business, and for good reason. The Irish sensation has taken the sport by storm, injecting an energy into the featherweight class that the division has never seen. A brilliant self-promoter, he’s also managed the rare feat of backing up his tough talk in the cage. There’s a lot to be excited about.
But manufacturing an excuse to give McGregor a chance to wear a title belt isn’t the right answer for the promotion. White claimed Aldo had pulled out of five title fights in his career, but in truth, he’s defended his title with the same frequency as most other UFC champions. He just fought last October, and it seems likely he will be able to fight again before the end of the year.
Traditionally, the UFC has only resorted to interim titles when a champion was seriously injured. The champions in question ended up missing significant time, at least one year in every instance. There’s no indication that Aldo will be out for an extended period.
In this case, sources say McGregor demanded the fight with Mendes be for an interim belt. But I doubt he had to twist anyone’s arm too hard to get his way.
It’s not just a move the UFC has to make to appease their star—it’s one the promotion wants to make. McGregor is their guy. He often stays at UFC owner Lorenzo Fertitta’s personal suite and trains at a UFC gym in Las Vegas. They would like nothing more than to see the sport’s next big thing secure a championship at the expense of the greatest featherweight ever.
There’s also a whiff of the punitive hovering over the decision to crown a new kingpin at featherweight. When Aldo’s team initially announced his injury as broken ribs, the UFC took the strange measure of essentially releasing it’s own competing medical analysis, claiming the injury was just a bruise.
The pressure on Aldo to fight in the most important bout he’s had in years must have been enormous. When he could not ultimately physically comply, the promotion seemingly lashed out in the only way it could—by offering his rival a chance at the belt.
The UFC has, as White pointed out, spent freely to promote this fight. It’s been tabbed as the biggest card of the summer and expectations were high. Aldo’s injury, frankly, blows those careful plans sky high.
It makes sense to be upset. These are upsetting circumstances. But it doesn’t make sense to be upset at Aldo. That didn’t stop White or McGregor from laying it on thick during their ESPN appearance.
“If a man is scared for his life, we can not force him to step inside and fight me,” McGregor said on SportsCenter. “Doctors have cleared him to fight. It’s a bruise—but he still pulled out. Rightfully so, the belt should be taken from him and we will contest for the interim belt, or in my opinion, the real belt.”
Here’s the thing, though—no one buys that. Aldo is the only featherweight champion any of us have ever known. That status doesn’t just disappear because the UFC says so. To be the man, you have to beat the man. And, no matter how loud his mouth or his suits get, McGregor isn’t yet the man.
More than 14,000 fans packed the American Airlines Center in Dallas the last time Elias Theodorou stood face to face with another man, only the referee standing between them and pure chaos. With 53 seconds left in the second round of that fight, a featured prelim at UFC 185, the 27-year-old former The Ultimate Fighter winner overwhelmed poor Roger Narvaez with persistent ground-and-pound.