The first time Joe Rogan accepted the microphone on behalf of the UFC was at UFC 12, way back in 1997. Since that time, he has become one of the bigger gateways to the fighters for the fans, save perhaps Dana White himself.
Through the years, the comba…
The first time Joe Rogan accepted the microphone on behalf of the UFC was at UFC 12, way back in 1997. Since that time, he has become one of the bigger gateways to the fighters for the fans, save perhaps Dana White himself.
Through the years, the combative sports have been augmented by additional personalities who serve to educate the viewers on one hand and entertain them on the other. Boxing had the excellent combination of Jim Lampley and Larry Merchant. For the UFC, the fans and fighters get Mike Goldberg and Rogan.
And speaking as a fan, we are very lucky to have Rogan in that position.
There may be other men or women out there who possess more broadcasting “polish,” but they do not possess two equally important things: passion and devotion to MMA.
Forget for a moment that Rogan actually has a black belt in Brazilian jiu-jitsu, bestowed upon him by Eddie Bravo, who in turn was instructed by the great Jean Jacques Machado.
Also, set aside his quick wit and extroverted personality—both qualities that make him ideally suited to his position as color commentator for the UFC.
Even without all of this, Rogan would still be one of the most passionate people about the sport you could find.
So, aside from all this, why do we love Joe Rogan?
Timely and Relevant
Many sports share commentators—men and women who jump from one position to the next, using their polish and gloss to maximum effect. However, most of the time they end up speaking a great deal yet saying little of significance or authority.
They act as springboards to other experts who are usually woefully out of their depth and thus need to be spoon-fed direct questions that they can easily answer, all in order to justify their inclusion in the broadcast in the first place.
Rogan serves no other sport but MMA, and his dedication shows.
Perhaps it is the fan in him that drives him to follow the sport (which surely exists outside of the UFC) with such passion. He is ever watchful of other organizations and their fighters because MMA is everywhere and so too must be his attention.
He keeps up with the world of MMA on an almost daily basis, knows about the issues at hand and, more importantly, addresses the issues that are on the minds of the fans.
His first time doing this was at UFC 43, when Chuck Liddell was going to be fighting Randy Couture for the interim title because Tito Ortiz was renegotiating his contract. Rogan paid respect to all the fighters in the situation during the broadcast but voiced his frustration as a fan that Liddell and Ortiz had not fought (as seen on the UFC 43 DVD).
No matter where his desire comes from, he is not just a “company man” who parrots the words and justifies the moods of White. They are friends, to be sure, but Rogan’s opinions are his own, and he fully owns them.
Yes, he can be biased, just as any fan can be, but the bias is tempered far more often than not. When you consider all he brings to the table, that is a very small price to pay.
An Appreciation for History
Sometimes it’s hard to believe that we have a man like Rogan, who has been following the sport for so long, in his position ringside.
While he may not be a true historian of the sport, he has been following it with an insider’s perspective for so long that the lessons of history are not lost upon him. He does not have a lukewarm appreciation for the fighters and fights of yesterday but a fondness and understanding that help frame his understanding of the sport today.
Given that MMA is still relatively young, Rogan is in the privileged position of being involved nearly from the beginning. That kind of grasp of the growth of the sport will help guide the fans for many years to come.
Imagining how Rogan will be able to analyze the sport 20 years from now, based on all he has seen and experienced in the past, will see him firmly positioned much as Larry Merchant was for HBO’s boxing broadcasts—as an expert.
In True Service of the Sport
Many commentators of professional sports do some time fielding interviews and answering questions on the side. It’s part of establishing themselves as authorities, which in turn is job security.
Rogan does the same but on a much greater scale, and thankfully for MMA fans, he does so without a filter.
Fans have been talking with him for years at mma.tv’s The Underground, and he produces a podcast that is perhaps one of the most meaningful Internet programs for fans who want an unvarnished look at the who’s who of the MMA community.
Be it sessions with White, ChaelSonnen, BasRutten, Georges St-Pierre or countless others, the time they spend with Rogan sees them speak openly, from the gut, on a variety of topics that range from the things you always wondered about to the things you never knew, and it’s glorious.
Joe Roganisn’t just a commentator. He’s a complement to the sport, just like a good beer is a complement to a great meal.
Although, you learn a great deal more from Rogan than you do from Sam Adams.
The superfight: It’s a term used so often these days that it’s become a novelty.
In theory, it identifies a bout that is designed to bring two fantastic fighters together in a clash that speaks to the best aspects of their relative skills a…
The superfight: It’s a term used so often these days that it’s become a novelty.
In theory, it identifies a bout that is designed to bring two fantastic fighters together in a clash that speaks to the best aspects of their relative skills and styles.
In boxing, it has often been used to identify bouts that could never happen: Muhammad Ali vs. Mike Tyson, Sugar Ray Robinson vs. Floyd Mayweather Jr., Roberto Duran vs. Manny Pacquiao.
But in the sport of MMA, it is used to describe the dreamlike quality of fights that, while perhaps improbable, are not impossible: Jose Aldo vs. Anthony Pettis, for instance.
Or the previously ballyhooed Georges St-Pierre vs. Anderson Silva.
It’s the proverbial “white whale” of the sport. No matter how many times such bouts are rumored, only to fail to be actualized, the term endures because new fighters are always rising to the top. Thus, new fights could answer the question: Who would win if…?
As fighters fight to answer that question, fans and pundits ponder and posit in the absence of these rarest of occurrences. We question and debate who would win in a bout between two fighters that are so good that they remain nearly untouchable by anyone save perhaps another of their untouchable ilk.
No matter what criteria you favor, you know the fights in question, as we all do. While Anderson Silva may no longer have the title, much of the superfight debate has been built upon his name, and that honestly has not changed.
Even though he lost two in a row to Chris Weidman, he is still thought to be the best because great fighters are not the sum total of their defeats. Muhammad Ali lost to Leon Spinks when the latter had just eight professional fights, yet even after their bout, no one doubted Ali would be remembered as the greater fighter.
So, we ponder the obvious inclusions, as we always have; this time, we include them all, in one place and at one time. In fact, we will also include one boxing bout—Floyd Mayweather Jr. vs. Manny Pacquiao—simply because it has been debated at length in many MMA discussions, which is no surprise; it is the gold standard for incredible fights that should have been made yet never were.
Proof of this bleeding of boxing into MMA can be found when Lorenzo Fertitta tweeted about the topic of superfights after Pacquiao was put to sleep by Juan Manuel Marquez in their epic fourth bout in 2012.
Oh, the irony that not a single superfight has been made since that fateful night.
Of course, you will notice the absence of one fight on the list—a bout between Ronda Rousey and Mayweather Jr., simply because it will never happen and in truth has never really been addressed with any realism. There seems little merit in talking about it again; there are far too many variables involved to debate the outcome in anything that resembles a concise manner.
And anyone who has read my work before knows just how long-winded I can be without due cause.
Thus, I present to you a list of superfights and predictions of victory, as honestly as I know how. I have no doubt this will not end any debates, nor is it meant to. After all, no one has the last word in the hypothetical.
It seems that whenever a supporter of a fighter wants to elevate his name, he is elevated as a pound-for-pound great. Be it fans, writers or Dana White, the term is used quickly and without restraint—the main support being that of an impressive r…
It seems that whenever a supporter of a fighter wants to elevate his name, he is elevated as a pound-for-pound great. Be it fans, writers or Dana White, the term is used quickly and without restraint—the main support being that of an impressive record, usually coupled with an equally impressive winning streak.
At UFC 173, TJ Dillashaw proved that it takes more than a great record or winning streak to hold the mantle of pound-for-pound great; it takes true greatness.
Going into his fight with then-champion Renan Barao, Dillashaw was hardly given a chance to win. Barao was thought to be too dominant to be defeated by a relative newcomer to the sport.
After all, Dillashaw was sporting a 9-2 record going into the fight; weighed in equal opposition to the impressive 32-1 record of Barao, Dillashaw didn’t seem to have the experience needed to handle the Brazilian.
Those sentiments were echoed loudly by just about anyone with a Twitter account and some authority in the sport. Prior to UFC 173, White spoke highly of Barao, showing an appreciation for all of the talents and accomplishments the Brazilian had earned, per John Morgan of USA Today:
He’s never been taken down in the UFC, ever,” said White. “He’s got the most bantamweight finishes in UFC and WEC history. Even after how great Jon Jones looked at UFC 172, the more I start to dig into this thing and look at it, I think you have to say that Renan Barao is the best pound-for-pound fighter in the sport.
At first glance, the reasoning behind this is sound; greatness is recognized by results, and those of Barao are quite impressive.
But that is only half the equation, and it doesn’t even take into account the other fighters who have enjoyed such high praise who are still at the top of their game. White addressed the central question regarding the pound-for-pound term, but seemed to lose sight of the fact that a great record alone is not the be-all and end-all of the debate.
“Pound-for-pound means if everybody was the same size, who would win,” White said. “This kid [Barao] has got the stats to prove it.”
But prove what, exactly—that he could beat Jon Jones or Jose Aldo if they were in the same weight class?
At a certain point, a record alone cannot indicate who would win if two pound-for-pound luminaries were to meet on an even playing field. Obviously, when there is a weight difference involved, speculation is all we have, and pure numbers have always been the true cornerstone for analysis.
But there are also factors of speed, power, explosiveness, conditioning, fluidity, poise and so much more; factors that are not usually factored into the final tally of wins and loses.
And of course, there is the ever-important clash of styles.
Even before his loss to Dillashaw, it seemed hard for me to fathom that Barao could beat a fighter as skilled, powerful and fast as Aldo. It’s not that Barao couldn’t beat Aldo—we will never know until they actually fight—but given Aldo’s talents and physical gifts, it seems as if Barao would be a beat behind the music for most of such a fight.
And what of Jones? Granted, he had his hands full against Alexander Gustafsson, but Gustafsson and Barao are vastly different fighters. Would Barao be able to nullify the grappling and takedown game of a fighter like Jones, just because he boasts an impressive record that never saw him face an opponent like Jones?
These are the kind of intangibles that can never be fully addressed where the pound-for-pound debate is concerned.
When Dillashaw dominated Barao, round after round, while shocking, it was not that far removed from the realm of possibility. After all, Chris Weidman, sporting a record of a mere 10-0, defeated a man who was then considered by most as the greatest P4P fighter in the world, Anderson Silva.
Then, there is another wrinkle; does a loss suddenly mean that a fighter like Barao is no longer as good as he was before? If that is the case, then imagine the chaos in the debate that would ensue if Anderson Silva, coming off back-to-back losses, were to suddenly take a superfight with Jon Jones and defeat him?
It’s a long and tangled web that more often than not loses sight of the fact that great fighters can lose and good fighters can prove themselves great, but they are all capable of great highs and shocking lows on a night-by-night basis.
Barao suffered a tough setback at UFC 173, which by necessity calls into question his inclusion in the P4P debate. But that does not diminish the one thing that he can stand proudly upon: He’s a great fighter who has won far more than he has lost.
When you are fighting in the biggest promotion in the sport, an impressive record reflects a fact that means more than any hypothetical judgment.
To understand just how dominant Anderson Silva has been in the UFC, you really need to take a full day and watch all of his fights, back-to-back. In doing so, you will be shocked at the men he disposed of, especially if you have been following the spor…
To understand just how dominant Anderson Silva has been in the UFC, you really need to take a full day and watch all of his fights, back-to-back. In doing so, you will be shocked at the men he disposed of, especially if you have been following the sport avidly for more than five years.
Be it his Floyd Mayweather-esque destruction of Chris Leben, his utter dominations of the always underrated Rich Franklin, his inspirational rallies against Chael Sonnen; if you watch it all, you see the passage of years while Silva remains constant—as in, constantly so far above the rest that it almost looks unfair.
He wasn’t just good; he was fantastic in every sense of the word.
But when Chris Weidman managed to defeat him in their first fight at UFC 162, there were more than a few people (fighters, writers and fans alike) who were not surprised at all.
In Weidman, Silva was facing what looked to be his true foil: a young fighter with a great wrestling base, a high submission acumen and serious power in his hands.
And most of all, he wasn’t in the least bit afraid or intimidated by Silva—at least not in any way that hampered his performance.
Because of all this, those who were vocal in their predictions of a Weidman victory were not just looking to call an upset for its own sake. They saw something in Silva’s past fights that seemed to indicate a lack of desire, perhaps, or a slowing down of the machine that had ruled the middleweight division for so long.
He was getting distracted, it seemed to some, and moreover, he was just getting old.
Thus, Weidman went out and defeated Silva in nearly all aspects of their short yet sublime bout. Silva didn’t win a round, nor did he win the fight; he was outworked, out-grappled and finally knocked out cold.
It wasn’t supposed to go like that, but it reminded us that this is a sport that will eventually surpass all champions. It will be rejuvenated by fresh faces and young blood while the greats of today become the elder statesmen of tomorrow.
And that is where Silva is heading, if you look at the history of the sport.
Of course, his fans (the legions that they are) will dismiss this as nothing more than bitter talk from either a “hater” or a writer desperate to get reads by “insulting” a legend.
But if it were that simple, history would not paint such a damning picture of the passion plays of older men (such as Roy Jones Jr.) who linger too long on a field destined to be ruled by younger men with faster swords.
Far too many people act as if fighters like Randy Couture, Dan Henderson and Bernard Hopkins are the new norm; the truth is they are grand and unique exceptions to the norm because they did not ignore their age, they adapted to it. Just because they managed to fight well into their 40s does not mean everyone else can, be they named Anderson Silva or not.
For every fighter that fights and succeeds on a serious level past 37 years of age, there are a hundred (or more) talented and hungry fighters of the same or younger age who cannot. Their failure is not based on a lack of dedication or desire; it’s based on the system of nature that says with age comes the benefit of wisdom and the diminishing of the physical.
After losing to Weidman twice, those in Silva’s camp were appropriately optimistic about his return while still being respectful of the fact that Silva’s future, as always, was in his hands alone.
The realism stopped when they talked about a third fight with Weidman for Silva’s comeback bout. To be honest, Silva is no longer in the position to be fighting for the title without qualifying himself by winning at least two bouts against Top 10 competition.
The Silva of old really doesn’t exist anymore; the Silva we have now is honestly an unknown quantity, he’s got all the same skills as his younger self, but his physical gifts have aged, as all men must.
When added to the fact that he suffered a horrific leg injury, it seems clear that he should be required to do some honest work against fighters of serious note before being awarded another chance to fight the champion.
And to be honest, Silva probably wouldn’t have a problem with that. Right now his main nemesis seems to be his leg injury, not Weidman. Fighting two opponents who are ranked in the Top 10 would doubtless be fine with him.
But what are the odds of his success, and what would a successful comeback look like for such a man?
Obviously, the idea of Silva reclaiming the title would be the ultimate coup over the specters of older age and injury. If Weidman still has the belt in such a scenario, then Silva’s chances of victory are slim. Weidman has a style tailor-made to defeat Silva, he is not afraid of Silva at all, and once again, he’s the younger man.
When considering Silva facing anyone for the title, one of the first things that comes to mind is that Silva will no longer be enjoying the once-thought unassailable psychological advantage he used to.
During the height of his power, Silva seemed so untouchable that his opponents acted as if he were a mirage. They second-guessed every movement they made and treated every flinch and gesture of Silva as if it had fight-ending capacity.
In his bouts against Vitor Belfort, Stephan Bonnar, Patrick Cote, Forrest Griffin and others, it seemed as if they were beaten before the fight had already begun. It’s hard enough to defeat a fighter as skilled as Silva without conceding to him a kind of mythic invulnerability.
Now, fighters know Silva is quite touchable and as beatable as the next man.
The idea of future fighters deferring to him and his former air of utter superiority runs contrary to the history of the combative sports. That history has shown, time and again, that once a great fighter is revealed as being “human,” his opposition become much bolder than before; each of them looking to claim dominion over an aspect of his legacy by proving themselves superior to his established and once-feared name.
It’s a common theme among all great fighters; it’s just new to MMA because Silva has honestly been one of the very first who looked like something more than great. In professional boxing (the older sibling to MMA if there ever was one), fighters like Silva have come and gone many times, but without the tenure Silva has enjoyed; normally the story is that the candle that burns twice as bright burns half as long, but Silva has burned three times as bright for twice as long.
Thus, it’s no wonder that his fans think he is beyond such things as age and diminishing passion; it’s what they’ve come to know as fact for many years. How many times have we seen Silva, the older man in the cage, looking terribly bored against an honestly exceptional opponent, suddenly blow all our minds in a split second, leaving the opposition out cold on the floor?
Up until UFC 162, a Silva title bout had seemed like a one-man show; the other opponent regulated to the undignified and hapless role of footnote to his greatness.
Now things have changed, and everyone knows it. Weidman is the mountain that Silva has thrown himself against, twice, and each time been sent away more broken than the last.
And all the while, Silva is growing older.
Obviously, we as fans of the man can make the distinction between failure of planning and the shackles of age; yet that is of no importance. What is important is that Silva can make that distinction, and to be honest, we don’t know that he can.
In fact, in Weidman, Silva is faced with an opponent that rebuffed his greatest advantages with the kind of ease that we used to assume Silva would aim at his opponents.
Recently, in an interview with SporTV (h/t Fernando Arbex of Bloody Elbow), Silva spoke like a confused man, saying on one had that he wanted to finish all eight fights remaining on his contract, and on the other saying he might not be in the mood to do so.
While longtime fans of the man may be happy to relegate his decision as victories in the bank, the fact is that fighters, even those as great as Silva, have never been well served when their passions were wandering the middle of the road.
“I have eight fights to do yet in my contract,” Silva said. “I want to do all of these fights but I don’t know that I will be in the mood to do this.”
Honestly, this kind of uncertainty is not shocking when one considers just how much Silva has already accomplished. He’s been there, done that, time and again.
Obviously the title belt doesn’t look as shiny to him as it would countless others. How man of them does he own after so many years?
It is an honest question, weighed in equal opposition to the fact his future opponents, hungry and talented, own none and want much.
After seeing Weidman (a fighter with a record of a mere 10-0 at the time) do the unthinkable, the idea that the middleweight division reveres Silva as unbeatable is just not honest.
That all ended when Weidman caught him clowning and knocked him flat on his back.
Even if Weidman loses the title to someone else, Silva will still be facing a champion who wants to keep his title far more than Silva wants to win it.
And then there is the area of his skills and talent. Silva has always been a naturally gifted fighter who could do things most cannot and even after his leg injury, on his worst day he’s still a good deal better than most.
But much of his success was based on his near total control of his environment. Now, he no longer has possession of the field like he once did; fighters have seen him taken down and controlled, and they have seen him knocked out while standing up.
They will be bringing the fight to Silva in ways they have seen succeed, and they will be going hard rather than assuming the role of spectators to their own professional demise.
When he started in the UFC, he wasn’t given anything; he took it with a verve and authority rarely seen. His opponents were not deferring to him because he had not established himself as the greatest fighter of all time; they made him work for it, and in that honest labor we saw Silva shine so very bright.
So, can he do it all again, at the age of 40?
Yes, it’s possible, but it will be much harder the second time around. Given his recent admittances, his heart may not be fully invested in the effort; against younger, hungrier fighters, half measures will on get him half way.
And where the championship is concerned, that leaves him with a long way to go in the twilight of his career.
When Bellator began, they had to know that theirs would be a tough road; they were basically born out of the ashes of the UFC’s relationship with SpikeTV and that is one large shadow to toil under.
Now, countless televised events later, they are …
When Bellator began, they had to know that theirs would be a tough road; they were basically born out of the ashes of the UFC’s relationship with SpikeTV and that is one large shadow to toil under.
Now, countless televised events later, they are still no closer to locking up a firm grasp on second place and their first ever pay-per-view event proved it.
For starters, they took a big gamble on one of their most legitimate champions, Alexander Shlemenko, letting him step up in weight to face former UFC champion, Tito Ortiz.
The results were damning; Ortiz made Shlemenko look like a novice, submitting him in under three minutes. While the powers that be at Bellator will no doubt try to spin this as a win, the fact is the value of their title belts was greatly diminished.
Had Shlemenko made a serious fight out of it, things could have been different; instead, he was put into a bad position and he honestly looked clueless on how to defend it.
But even then, it was terribly honest; Bellator was willing to put themselves up for public display, fully aware of the risks and in doing so owned the situation, for better or worse.
And it is probably for the worse. Ortiz is not a star of the future—that was supposed to be Shlemenko’s position. Now, he’s a middleweight champion that was essentially stomped, with shocking ease, by a UFC-castoff who hasn’t won a fight of any significance since his upset victory over Ryan Bader.
Now, Shlemenko goes back down to middleweight and although he is still the champion, his loss to Ortiz puts him into a position of starting over. It could be rough going for Shlemenko as he tries to erase that bad first impression with the pay-per-view audience.
But that is the no-frills foundation that Bellator has built itself on. Granted, they have tried to engage in some fluff in the promotional side of things, but their format has seen the fighters who win rewarded more often than not, which is a good thing in many ways.
Then, Bellator tried to take lemons and make lemonade by matching Michael Chandler against Will Brooks for the interim Bellator Lightweight Championship. Brooks was a substitute for Eddie Alvarez, who had to pull out late due to a training injury.
Originally, Chandler was to face Alvarez for the title in a bout that would give us what promised to be a thrilling final chapter in one of the better trilogies in MMA.
And so, Chandler and Brooks went at it hard for five full rounds. It was honestly a great fight and worthy of any PPV; both men did a lot of damage and fought hard, coming back from moments of serious adversity in order to regain advantage.
In the end, Brooks was awarded the split-decision victory, possibly putting an indefinite hold on Chandler-Alvarez 3, which was one of the few fights that Bellator could honestly provide that had true divisional merit.
Brooks will now face Alvarez to unite the titles and even though Chandler falls in the rankings, the fight itself was excellent. These things happen in the combative sports; it isn’t scripted and it doesn’t always follow fortune, but it’s honest and that is what this sport is all about.
Finally, Bellator put their other big price-tag fighter, Quinton “Rampage” Jackson, in against “hated rival,” Muhammad “King Mo” Lawal.
They had invested a great deal of time and promotional expense in selling what looked to be a true bad-blood bout. For their efforts, we were rewarded with a lukewarm effort that fell far short of living up to the billing.
Jackson was awarded the victory but it could have gone either way. Lawal then made it known he would like to be released by the promotion and accused them of favoritism, per MMA Junkie; not exactly the ending they would have liked, to be sure.
And so their first ever PPV event ended with their biggest fights unfolding in directions contrary to their best interests.
They can say they’ve gotten their first PPV under their belts and their next effort will be smoother, but given their position, how far will another PPV get them?
At best, a fight between Rampage and Tito would be sellable and perhaps the bout between Alvarez and Brooks, but that is about it for now.
In fact, their only PPV event would have been ideally placed on SpikeTV, where it could be appreciated by a wider audience that has grown fond of the Bellator brand. If they could put names like Rampage, Ortiz, Alvarez and others on a card for network television, they would likely be better served in the long run.
As of now, if this event has proved anything, it is that which does not kill them only makes them stronger. Since the fallout of the Shlemenko-Ortiz and Chandler-Brooks fights have not really settled, we don’t know just how much the worth of their titles has been diminished.
The minds of MMA fans are fair yet unpredictable, knowledgeable yet dismissive; predicting how they are going to react is nearly impossible. Thus, the waiting game begins for both Bellator and the fans.
And if we are going to wait, it should be in front of our television screens, watching on free television.
It may seem like a bitter pill to swallow for now, but the fact is, the UFC succeeded in no small part because they had no real competition. Bellator does not enjoy that position, so they need to make use of what they do have: SpikeTV.
They could do a lot worse; after all, it was considered a major coup to get the UFC on free television, and that was less than 10 years ago.
Perhaps Bellator can re-imagine another television program that put on some of the greatest fights of its time—The Gillette Cavalcade of Sports, which showcased some of the greatest boxing matches to be found on television.
It might not seem as grand as PPV, but it’s gotten them this far; what could be more honest than that?
On Saturday night at UFC Fight Night 40, Matt Brown reminded us all why he is a fighter not to be missed.
It’s not that he’s the walking definition of technical perfection because he’s not. But he is violent, fully committed, utterly …
On Saturday night at UFC Fight Night 40, Matt Brown reminded us all why he is a fighter not to be missed.
It’s not that he’s the walking definition of technical perfection because he’s not. But he is violent, fully committed, utterly courageous and willing to take bullets to the teeth if it will get him up close and personal with his opponent.
And lest we forget, he hits damn hard, throws strikes in bunches, is excellent up close and tough as a coffin nail. In fact, if it weren’t for his suspect submission defense, his record would probably be a lot better than it stands now.
But even with 11 losses on said record, right now he is looking mighty fine to both fans and the UFC brass. He’s won seven fights in a row, with six of them coming via stoppage.
If there is any knock against him, it is a simple one that is a symptom of the depth of the sport: He still looks beatable by fighters with a strong wrestling base.
That being said, he’s in good company. There is another fighter out there (although on the sidelines right now) who has been in the same boat for most of his career: Nick Diaz.
Like Diaz, Brown is a stand-up slugger who loves to fight. Granted, Diaz might not like the preparation for the fight, but once the bell rings, he looks like a man who is doing what he loves. If that is just a case of Diaz doing what he must instead of what he loves, then he’s one dedicated man in the heat of the moment.
The difference between the two of them, at least outside the cage, seems to be one of philosophy. Diaz no longer feels like fighting anyone save champions or big-money fights. Without either, he seems more than content to sit on the sidelines and let the sport pass him by.
Brown does not seem to suffer that kind of jaded viewpoint; back in 2010, very few pundits or fans would have pegged him as a fighter who could turn it all around like he has. He paid them no mind and was just happy to be training and fighting—keeping it simple and working hard.
Now, he’s in more than a few conversations regarding title contenders. In a sport where excitement is worth its weight in gold, that is not surprising.
During Brown’s performance against Silva at UFC Fight Night 40, one has to be wondering if Diaz was watching—cheering for a great fight on one hand while pondering how he would handle such an adversary.
When you consider a bout between Brown and Diaz, the mouth just waters at the promise of violence. Both men are cut from the same cloth: Each would rather go out on his shield than be in a boring fight.
And not to be a wet blanket for Brown fans (of which I am one, to be sure), but Diaz could defeat Brown, either in a stand-up war or on the mat.
Of course, Brown could also defeat Diaz, either by KO or TKO.
On paper, this fight is an excellent clash of styles, even though both men are primarily stand-up fighters. Diaz does his best work when he can keep his opponents on the end of his punches; Brown shines when he is up close and able to attack with elbows, punches and knees.
Both men are incredibly durable when it comes to taking punishment and responding in kind; evidence of this is seen in their past fights. How many times have both men been involved in the kinds of bouts that seemed like clear nominees for Fight of the Year?
For a long time, talk of superfights has floated around, and it almost always involved bouts between fighters of different divisions—fights that were never likely to be made.
This time, we have a potential megabout between two fighters in the same division. The only thing missing is the big money needed to make it happen.
When thinking about the spending of such money, the first question to ask is: Is it worth it?
In the case of Brown vs. Diaz, the answer is a resounding yes. This is a fight for the fans and nothing more. Of course, Brown could see his name elevated if he were to defeat Diaz, while Diaz would get the money he wanted while having the chance to further his argument of being one of the biggest draws in the sport.
The second question is: Would giving up the money for this fight set a bad precedent?
If there are any bad precedents to be set, they have already occurred, and the sport has thrived. While divisional ramifications are important, the promotion of great fights is equally important, and a bout between Brown and Diaz seems like an instant candidate for Fight of the Year before the first punch is thrown.
It seems high time that the UFC took the time and invested the money needed to redefine the term superfight—bringing it out of the realm of improbable and actualizing it for perhaps the first time ever.
Brown would clearly be stepping in as the white hat, with Diaz utilizing his incendiary brand of trash talk to claim the black hat. Everyone who dislikes Diaz would be tuning in with the hope of seeing him lose (perhaps retiring for good after), while the rest of us would watch because that much violence in one location is just mind-blowing.
This is the time to honestly make such a fight. Brown is on a hot winning streak, and Diaz still has the name value (and the proven hostility and ability to go with it) to make this a must-see bout.
The idea of a superfight has always been, at least at its core, about wish fulfillment. Short of seeing Georges St-Pierre battle Anderson Silva in a video game (or Silva battle Jon Jones), we won’t get to see those fights.
But a superfight between Brown and Diaz? That is a very possible fight that is not only the most viable great fight to be made using the term but also the one that promises to yield the results that the term engenders.
And when you envision Brown staring down Diaz, with the latter talking his patented trash, well, things suddenly get very real, very quickly.
And in a sport where the tagline of the lead promotion is “As real as it gets,” nothing could be more important.
The first time Joe Rogan accepted the microphone on behalf of the UFC was at UFC 12, way back in 1997. Since that time, he has become one of the bigger gateways to the fighters for the fans, save perhaps Dana White himself.