(Wepner was tossed out of the ring in the third round, and lost the fight by count-out. Seems legit. Video of the fight is available after the jump.)
If you happen to be a connoisseur of MMA freak show bouts, it’s likely that you recognize June 25, 1976 as the day that “The Greatest of All Time” Muhammad Ali took on Japanese wrestling legend Antonio Inoki in a mixed rules bout. The fight itself may have been an unwatchable display of bizarre kicks from Inoki – who was only allowed to kick if one of his knees was touching the mat – but it’s remembered as one of our sport’s first genuine freak show bouts.
Yet often forgotten by even the most die-hard fight fans among us is that the undercard for Ali vs. Inoki contained a match between Chuck Wepner (the boxer/liquor salesman whose bout against Ali served as the inspiration for the Rocky series) and Andre the Giant broadcast live from Shea Stadium. Before we go any further: Yes, you read that last sentence correctly, and yes, we’ll have video evidence of this after the jump.
By 1976, Andre the Giant had established himself as an unstoppable juggernaut in professional wrestling, to the point that simply getting in a few good shots in a losing effort against him could put another wrestler over. He may not have been professional wrestling’s first “unbeatable giant” character, but he was certainly the most successful and popular portrayal of it. Naturally, when Vince McMahon Sr. faced the dilemma of finding an opponent for the division killer, he got the idea of having him defeat a real fighter. Chuck Wepner – who coincidentally was considering becoming a professional wrestler by this point in his career – was the ideal opponent.
(Wepner was tossed out of the ring in the third round, and lost the fight by count-out. Seems legit. Video of the fight is available after the jump.)
If you happen to be a connoisseur of MMA freak show bouts, it’s likely that you recognize June 25, 1976 as the day that “The Greatest of All Time” Muhammad Ali took on Japanese wrestling legend Antonio Inoki in a mixed rules bout. The fight itself may have been an unwatchable display of bizarre kicks from Inoki – who was only allowed to kick if one of his knees was touching the mat – but it’s remembered as one of our sport’s first genuine freak show bouts.
Yet often forgotten by even the most die-hard fight fans among us is that the undercard for Ali vs. Inoki contained a match between Chuck Wepner (the boxer/liquor salesman whose bout against Ali served as the inspiration for the Rocky series) and Andre the Giant broadcast live from Shea Stadium. Before we go any further: Yes, you read that last sentence correctly, and yes, we’ll have video evidence of this after the jump.
By 1976, Andre the Giant had established himself as an unstoppable juggernaut in professional wrestling, to the point that simply getting in a few good shots in a losing effort against him could put another wrestler over. He may not have been professional wrestling’s first “unbeatable giant” character, but he was certainly the most successful and popular portrayal of it. Naturally, when Vince McMahon Sr. faced the dilemma of finding an opponent for the division killer, he got the idea of having him defeat a real fighter. Chuck Wepner – who coincidentally was considering becoming a professional wrestler by this point in his career – was the ideal opponent.
As you probably figured out by reading that last paragraph, the fight itself was a blatant work. A loss to Wepner would have killed Andre the Giant’s “unbeatable” aura, and probably his career in general. There was absolutely no way that McMahon was going to let one of his biggest draws fizzle out while fans were still willing to pay to watch him (Ironically, McMahon Jr. would allow this to happen twenty years later). Meanwhile, a loss would do nothing to Wepner’s reputation; if you’re famous for losing to Muhammad Ali, a loss to The Eighth Wonder of the World isn’t exactly going to bury you.
Interestingly enough, the most “fake” parts of the bout – from what appears to be a botched atomic drop to Andre throwing Wepner over the top rope – were possibly the only unscripted events to take place that evening. Rumor has it that by the third round, Wepner decided he’d throw his most powerful punches at Andre the Giant. Andre – who had a reputation for shooting on wrestlers who he felt were working too stiff with him -decided that he would get behind Wepner and pick him up, just to demonstrate that he could seriously hurt Wepner if he wanted to (he allegedly did the same thing to a young Hulk Hogan). When Wepner didn’t take the hint, Andre decided to skip to the planned finish right then and there – Wepner’s compliance be damned.
For better or for worse, Chuck Wepner vs. Andre the Giant was one of the first mainstream American mixed rules bouts, which took place thirty-seven years ago today. Whether or not you can still sit through it today depends on whether or not you appreciate oldschool professional wrestling, but odds are good that if you’re a cinema buff, you have an appreciation for Stallone’s recreation of it.
If you were curious as to how different a night of fights being put together by Nick Diaz would be from a typical night of fights heading into last night’s WAR MMA 1, the short answer is “not too much (yet).” Despite some rule changes designed to prevent stalling and a one point deduction due to timidity during Cody Gibson vs. Darin Cooley – this is right around where you can insert your own Stockton Rules joke – seven out of twelve bouts went to decision. This isn’t to say that the fights were boring, but rather, that the special rules didn’t make much of a difference.
The main event of the evening saw UFC veteran Daniel Roberts take on Justin Baesman. The fight looked like it was in danger of being stopped just seconds into the first round, as Roberts caught Baesman’s kick, took him down and began punching away. But Baesman hung on, and survived the subsequent choke attempt, to get back to his feet and earn two takedowns by the end of the first round.
The second round saw Baesman continue to outwork Roberts, who was visibly spent from his opening efforts by this point. Roberts would earn a takedown of his own at the start of the third round – and spend most of the round in top control – but in the end it wasn’t enough to convince two of the three judges that he did enough to win the fight.
If you were curious as to how different a night of fights being put together by Nick Diaz would be from a typical night of fights heading into last night’s WAR MMA 1, the short answer is “not too much (yet).” Despite some rule changes designed to prevent stalling and a one point deduction due to timidity during Cody Gibson vs. Darin Cooley – this is right around where you can insert your own Stockton Rules joke – seven out of twelve bouts went to decision. This isn’t to say that the fights were boring, but rather, that the special rules didn’t make much of a difference.
The main event of the evening saw UFC veteran Daniel Roberts take on Justin Baesman. The fight looked like it was in danger of being stopped just seconds into the first round, as Roberts caught Baesman’s kick, took him down and began punching away. But Baesman hung on, and survived the subsequent choke attempt, to get back to his feet and earn two takedowns by the end of the first round.
The second round saw Baesman continue to outwork Roberts, who was visibly spent from his opening efforts by this point. Roberts would earn a takedown of his own at the start of the third round – and spend most of the round in top control – but in the end it wasn’t enough to convince two of the three judges that he did enough to win the fight.
Full Results from WAR MMA 1:
Justin Baesman def. Daniel Roberts via split decision
Evan Esguerra def. Caleb Mitchell via unanimous decision
Clayton McKinney def. Mike Persons via unanimous decision
D.J. Linderman def. Mike Hayes via unanimous decision
Cody Gibson def. Darin Cooley via third-round TKO (3:46)
Roy Boughton def. Mike Martinez via verbal submission (toehold) (R1, 0:28)
Dominic Clarke def. Chris Quitiquit via second-round TKO (doctor’s stoppage, 0:37)
Marcel Fortuna def. CJ Marsh via submission (side choke) (R2, 2:40)
Anthony Tatum def. Joey Cabezas via split decision
Adrian Adona def. Beau Hamilton via second-round TKO (doctor’s stoppage, 5:00)
Mike Ortega def. Jordan Powell via split decision
Derek Brown def. Aziz Rashid via unanimous decision
So what was your impression of WAR MMA’s first event? Do you feel the fights were worth whatever you donated to watch them? Let us know what you think.
Since we already made a list of what we consider to be the best fight movies of all time, today we’re here to talk about our personal favorites. Just one small rule: In an attempt to keep this column from quickly degrading into a list of Rocky movies, we agreed that none of them would be eligible for inclusion. What we ended up with is a list containing a few legitimate classics, a few cult favorites, and the formula for a damn good movie night with your fellow fight fans this weekend. At least for those of you who won’t be streaming War MMA’s inaugural event on Saturday night, obviously. Read on for our picks, and please continue to send your ideas for future Roundtable topics to [email protected].
Ben Goldstein – who is making his triumphant return to the CagePotato Roundtable.
(Rather than pick just one memorable scene, we’ve included the whole documentary.)
John Hyams’s 2002 documentary The Smashing Machine is mainly remembered as a cautionary tale — a hard look at a hard sport, full of broken bodies, drug abuse, and predatory behavior of the physical and emotional varieties. And make no mistake, it should be remembered for all of that. It’s absolutely gut-wrenching to watch the downfall of an incredible talent like Mark Kerr, an alpha male who was utterly chewed up by professional fighting.
Since we already made a list of what we consider to be the best fight movies of all time, today we’re here to talk about our personal favorites. Just one small rule: In an attempt to keep this column from quickly degrading into a list of Rocky movies, we agreed that none of them would be eligible for inclusion. What we ended up with is a list containing a few legitimate classics, a few cult favorites, and the formula for a damn good movie night with your fellow fight fans this weekend. At least for those of you who won’t be streaming War MMA’s inaugural event on Saturday night, obviously. Read on for our picks, and please continue to send your ideas for future Roundtable topics to [email protected].
Ben Goldstein – who is making his triumphant return to the CagePotato Roundtable.
(Rather than pick just one memorable scene, we’ve included the whole documentary.)
John Hyams’s 2002 documentary The Smashing Machine is mainly remembered as a cautionary tale — a hard look at a hard sport, full of broken bodies, drug abuse, and predatory behavior of the physical and emotional varieties. And make no mistake, it should be remembered for all of that. It’s absolutely gut-wrenching to watch the downfall of an incredible talent like Mark Kerr, an alpha male who was utterly chewed up by professional fighting.
But it also captures an incredible moment in time that will never, ever take place again. I’m speaking of course of the PRIDE 2000 Open-Weight Grand Prix — the greatest, most absurdly over-the-top MMA tournament in the history of the sport — which is captured in the second half of the movie. Among the competitors were old-school UFC legends who were already considered to be past their sell-by date (Royce Gracie, Kerr’s longtime friend Mark Coleman), international stars (Kazushi Sakuraba, Igor Vovchanchyn), and Kerr, whose career could have reached new heights in the tournament. Instead, it marked the beginning of the end.
Tournaments are inherently dramatic; it’s the reason why Enter the Dragon and Bloodsport are so often name-checked as the greatest martial arts films of all time. But fiction can’t hold a candle to real life, and The Smashing Machine was a perfect meeting of subject and style, full of cinematic moments that felt like they must have been scripted, but weren’t.
How about Renzo Gracie cackling manically as he introduces us to Ricardo Morais, reveling in Morais’s vow to show no mercy against Mark Coleman at PRIDE 8, as Morais swipes his arms along the water like some kind of nightmarish river monster?
How about Mark Kerr’s friends staging an intervention around his hospital bed after Kerr suffers an overdose, breaking the hulking wrestler down to tears?
How about Kerr succumbing to exhaustion in his epic battle with Kazuyuki Fujita — who rightfully earned his “World’s Greatest Chin” reputation that night — but successfully leaving Fujita too damaged to face Coleman in the semi-finals? In the end, Coleman advances to the finals and avenges Kerr’s previous beating at the hands of Vovchanchyn with a series of brutal knee strikes to the head, the same technique that Vovchanchyn used to stop Kerr the previous year. Sacrifice and redemption. You couldn’t write it any better.
May 1st, 2000, was a farewell to MMA’s prehistoric age. It featured the last great eight-man tournament in the sport’s history, and the first loss suffered by Royce Gracie. And while Coleman enjoyed the last heroic moment of his career, Kerr faded away. His most embarrassing losseswere yet to come, and mercifully, the documentary ends before we get to see them.
(“Honey” Roy Palmer vs. “Hammerhead” Hagan: criminally overlooked when discussing the greatest movie fights)
“Fight movies” are a dime a dozen, and to say that most of them are nothing less than cinematic dumpster fires would be a compliment. But every so often there is a beacon of hope that makes us believe in the genre again. That guiding light is what keeps us coming back in anticipation of discovering another Best of the Best – or at least something entertaining like The Hammer – but mostly we end up disappointed with the film and then ultimately pissed off with ourselves for spending the cash, optimism or both in hopes that lightning could strike again.
All fight films should be approached like anything Sensei Seagal has ever made (except Executive Decision – because The Lawman dies early on in that one AND because Judo Gene wasn’t there, so Seagal wrecked John Leguizamo’s ass during filming. I can’t quantify which is more hilarious), but the overwhelming majority of them seem to forget that they’re fight films, and spend too much time on characters and subplots that absolutely no one involved cares even slightly about. The end result is that watching most of them is like taking a shit when you are REALLY sweaty. Whether it is from your occupation or the gym or an athletic competition; leaving a dump while you are fairly lathered up with perspiration rarely ends in a satisfactory fashion. Whether it’s the never ending wipes, the lack of toilet paper or swamp ass, there is almost always a complication. Either way, both dropping a sweat deuce and watching a fight movie almost always leave you in a bad mood with a longing for a hot shower to wash off the filth.
Yet in the case of the 1992 boxing/con artist flick Diggstown, all parties entered the theaters (or more likely, their sofas before watching it on HBO or CineMax) feeling like they just did four miles of road work and dropped a deuce in a Porta Pottie, but then left feeling fresh as a daisy.
Even a quick glance over the cast will leave you scratching your head as to how this movie receives so little fanfare from non-fight fans. Prior to him being a plausible joke on Family Guy, multiple-time Academy Award nominee James Woods was doing real cinematic work (WATCH THESE, TATERS – Ghosts of Mississippi, True Believer and Salvador), and was cast as this film’s protagonist. Louis Gossett Jr. actually won an Oscar but got second billing to Woods and another Oscar nominee, Bruce Dern, was the antagonist; that means BAD GUY for you monosyllabic monkeys. The three main characters were ALL phenomenal actors, but if you throw in a young Roller Girl with Tex Cobb and the fat guy from Flatliners (who is god damn magnificent in his role), this is a virtuoso cast. Also, there is a small role for a very young Jim Caviezel in it. Ya remember him, right? He was JESUS CHRIST in Mel Gibson’s epic The Passion of the Christ – though in Diggstown he’s a boxer whose last words are “Fuck you Nigger” before he rightfully gets KTFO.
I am not going to give a plot line or a step-by-step retelling of what you will most certainly get off Wikipedia, but I urge the younger CP audience members to expand your horizons. Guys like ReX13 and me spread the word by passing along the VHS love of UFC during the early days of MMA and most of you are reaping the benefits. So take a little bit of “Get the FUCK Off My Lawn” advice from the old guys. Though it is not Enter the Dragon or Raging Bull – which are obvious choices that all you keyboard warriors will fault us for not choosing – Diggstown is pretty damn good. So, get on your new-fangled smartphones or tablets or whatever do-hickey you whipper-snappers are using nowadays and look up Diggstown on NetFlix. You’re welcome in advance.
(Yes, that’s the great Jersey Joe Walcott portraying “George” in this scene.)
Long before most of us were born and any of us even knew what MMA was, The Harder They Fall was captivating audiences with its gritty portrayal of prizefighting. Obviously, parts of this 1956 classic are now laughably outdated; black-and-white televisions are incomparable to modern HD 3D TVs, mainstream ethnocentrism has been replaced by political correctness and the typewriter has been made obsolete by the computer. Yet to this day, despite the abundance of movies that have been made about fighting, there still hasn’t been a more honest portrayal of the fight business.
Perhaps the main reason why this movie’s successors- especially the ones about MMA – have mostly failed to be more than watered-down, bastardized Rocky clones is that they’ve gone out of their way to deny that professional fighting is a business. Fighting is not some vaguely philosophical practice of honor and discipline. It is not about “building character,” nor is it a battle between right and wrong. Fighting is a business – one that can be as ugly as any other.
Don’t worry, you don’t have to wait too long for things to get ugly for Toro Moreno, a none-too-subtle wink at Italian heavyweight Primo Carnera (To drive this home, the film casts Max Baer – who beat the tar out of Carnera during their title fight – as the heavyweight champ who destroys Moreno. Subtle!). It’s equally astonishing and tragic how much of this movie fight fans can still identify with almost sixty years later. Let’s see…blatantly fixing bouts? Check. A completely undeserving challenger bumped into a world title fight? Naturally (so the promoter can profit off of it!). A fighter being paid a disgustingly small portion of the money that he made for the promoter? You betcha. A reporter more concerned with earning a paycheck and staying on the promoter’s good side than publishing honest accounts? *puffs out chest* You better believe it. After all, exposing the business would mean losing a paycheck, and no self-respecting entrepreneur would willingly do that.
Ironically enough, critics once complained that the corruption on display throughout this film was “far-fetched” and “not convincing.” If you haven’t noticed, 1956 was a very naive time in our history.
It’s the ugliness of the movie that has made it hold up so well over time, and allows me to genuinely appreciate it. It’s not another bullshit “Guy dreams of being the best ever and he trains all day all guts no glory so he can be recognized as the greatest fighter and get to bang hot chicks and earn the respect of his fellow meatheads through punching other dudes VIRTUE and SACRIFICE and AFFLICTION SHIRTS AND TRIBAL TATZ AND NEVER BACK DOWN BRO!” flick, like most modern MMA movies. It doesn’t fall into the “underdog is automatically the good guy, cheer for him instead of his more talented, far more interesting opponent” rut that even great fight movies like Warrior fall into. No, this is an honest look at a deceitful business. Name one consumer who can’t appreciate that.
(If you *didn’t* attempt an ill-fated split/groin punch combo after watching this movie, you’re smarter than most of our staff.)
Few movies have influenced a generation as much as Newt Arnold’s Bloodsport. Before NHB fighting arrived on American soil, Jean-Claude Van Damme lit up the silver screen, exposing thousands of impressionable adolescent males to the world of underground fighting through his role as Frank Dux and his quest to win the prestigious mixed martial arts tournament known simply as “Kumite.” This was the beginning of an epoch in which everyone and their brother got enrolled in Karate class at the local strip-mall dojo. Unfortunately, for many kids like me, my parents were too poor to afford formal training from a Sensei [Ed. note: That might not have been such a bad thing…]. As a last resort, I replayed my grandfather’s VHS of the movie until I could reenact the fight scenes with my eyes closed and often practiced the moves learned on my less than enthused sisters. Hey, it worked for GSP, right?
Besides its cultural impact on America’s youth, Bloodsport showcased almost everything there is to love about martial arts competition – amazing knockouts, brotherly love for training partners, authentic bad blood between fighters from opposing camps/styles, and a fighter launching himself off the referees back to execute a flying kick, just to name a few. The fight scenes from the Kumite are some of the most memorable for any guy between the ages of 25 and 45. You know what I’m talking about. Remember Dux doing the splits and then punching the rotund Japanese man in his sushi roll? What about the guy who strutted around like a monkey and somersaulted himself to victory? Still need convincing that Bloodsport is the greatest fighting movie of all time? Fine, just let me borrow your hammer, because I’ve got the final coffin nail for this debate. Above all else, Bloodsport is about honor. In the opening scenes, we’re shown a young miscreant named Frank Dux who breaks into a guy’s house in an attempt to swipe his Katana. Little did he know the old man was Ninjutsu master Senzo Tanaka. Dux apologized and fessed up, prompting Tanaka to take him under his wing and train him. After a premature death of Tanaka’s son, Shingo, Dux takes his place in the Kumite to honor Tanaka. Fast forward twenty minutes of the most awesome fighting montage with great 80′s music and you reach the summit – Frank Dux has become the first Westerner to win the Kumite and brings great honor to a man who went out of his way to mentor him. Much hespect, bro.
Okay, let’s get this out of the way right off the bat. Yes, Missing in Action II was a shameless and unapologetic rip-off of Rambo. But biting is pro forma in Hollywood, especially when it comes to martial arts movies. Who among us, while watching Never Back Down, didn’t realize they were witnessing an updated version of The Karate Kid? The only differences were modernity and the indubitable fact that Daniel-san actually deserved many of the beatings he received whereas Jake did not.
Unnecessarily harsh? Consider the facts: not only did Daniel boldly move in on Johnny’s bitch, but he hosed down the Cobra Cai whilst they were puffing a J in the bathroom stall, and he wore that ridiculous red jacket to pick up Ally at the country club. You just don’t do that kind of shit if you’re looking to keep your ass unkicked, especially when you’re the new kid in town.
Anyway, rip-off acknowledgment aside, let that not diminish the greatness of Missing in Action II. This cinematic masterpiece begins with a helicopter going down in enemy territory during the Vietnam War – which must have been an indescribably sickening feeling. Colonel James Braddock, faced with the horrifying decision to either die in a fiery crash or become a POW, instructs his men to jump, where they are captured and imprisoned in an underground pit by the evil Colonel Yin.
Braddock had a lot to deal with aside from being stuck in a POW camp that no one besides Francois and some crazy Australian photographer even knew existed. As the leader he had to volunteer for the old rat-in-a-bag-attached-to-your-head-while-hanging-upside-down-with-your-hands-tied-behind-your-back torture routine, watch as one of his men – bitch-ass Nester switched sides to become Yin’s cabin boy, suffer the indignity of being told his wife was getting tagged by another man, and if all that wasn’t enough he had to deal with Mazilli’s incessant whining the entire time.
Braddock finally decided he’d had enough after Yin administered a hot-shot of opium to his buddy, Sergeant Franklin and commenced to set him ablaze while he was still alive. Lighting a dude on fire is just a real shitty thing to do and goes against every rule of decency known to man. After that, Braddock went on his killing spree, easily taking out enemy soldiers, even flame-throwing a couple guys in an act of heinously poetic revenge.
Add to all this the fact that Braddock actually went back a decade later (in part one) to kill some more motherfuckers and rescue the remaining POWs and we can only conclude that the man was not only fiercely dedicated to his cause, but just took great pleasure in slaying him some Cong.
Chuck’s superhuman martial arts skills are put on display as he chokes the blood out of Nester’s traitorous throat with his leg chains, disposes of Yin’s soldiers with the one punch awesomeness of any quality action flick, and finally at the end when he beats the ever-loving shit out of Yin with minimal effort – even letting go of a lethal choke to deliver a little more pain.
Sure, no one was going to be winning any Oscars for their performances, but the Academy has long ignored the value of martial arts in film, even when it’s as socially significant as Missing in Action II. Yet a stupid piece of shit like The English Patient gets nine statues. But such is the way of those Hollywood douche-bags.
And, it’s Chuck man. What other martial artist is a walking meme? Websites, coffee mugs, t-shirts with such brilliant taglines as “Wrong MC Hammer, Chuck Norris CAN touch this” have been created in his honor. Hell, even Bruce Lee can’t say that.
(Two full movies in one article. Looks like you won’t be accomplishing anything at work today.)
I know, I know. Why would anyone in their right mind pick a Jackie Chan movie that wasn’t The Legend of Drunken Master? And Rumble in the Bronx? That’s, like, the Black Album of Jackie Chan movies YOU UNEDUCATED ILLITERATE HACK GOD DANGA I HATE YOU WITH THE FIRE OF A THOUSAND SUNS.
If my choice didn’t already alienate the lot of you, this next fact probably will: I am a child of the 90’s. Although I was born just outside of the decade that bestowed us with such cultural gems as Suburban Commando, Thunder in Paradise, and Santa With Muscles (and those are just the made-for-TV, Hulk Hogan vehicles), I was as influenced by the content of the decade as much as anyone. I wore light up sneakers. I collected Pogs. I listened to Infectious Grooves (but definitely not Oasis. Fuck Oasis.). And while frequenting the video store in my town that doubled as some sort of redneck petting zoo, I shit you not, I stumbled upon Rumble in the Bronx, the goddamn greatest fight film of all time.
It was there that my journey into the genre of “fight films” began. I started with the other obvious Chan choices; Drunken Master, Operation Condor, First Strike, Who Am I?, then began broadening my horizons with the Bruce Lee films, the Chuck Norris films, hell, even a Seagal film or two (and you can take that to the bank!). In short, Jackie Chan and Rumble in the Bronx was the catalyst that would eventually lead me to the early UFC tapes, to CagePotato, and to the man with the greatest bar fighting tips of all time.
Personal reasons aside, why is Rumble in the Bronx the greatest blah blah blah of blah blah, you blah? Well for starters, it is one of only two films to date that successfully pulled off a “one man vs. an army” sequence (the other of course being The Protector). Secondly, aside from truly introducing Jackie Chan’s death-defying, environment-based and often brilliantly slapstick style of martial arts to a wider audience, Rumble in the Bronx also introduced me to the following:
1.) Multiethnic, Cartoonishly-Characterized Street Tuffs
2.) Street Racing ON THE CARS THEMSELVES.
3.) The Use of a Ski as a Deadly Weapon
4.)The Greatest Stuntman (and the greatest stunt) of All Time
5.) And last but certainly not least: Francoise Yip & Tiger Cage Strip Clubs
In conclusion, Rumble in the Bronx is the greatest fight movie ever, not only because of the nostalgic effect it has on me every time I watch it, but because of the unmatched fight choreography, Jackie Chan’s still unmatched ability to sacrifice his body in the name of art, the five star acting/dubbing, and the giant hovercraft.
Honorable Mentions: Surf Ninjas, Over the Top, Riki-Oh: The Story of Ricky, Hard Times
So what fight movie was your personal favorite? Let us know in the comments section.
(Photo by Josh Hedges/Zuffa LLC/Zuffa LLC via Getty Images)
If what we saw last night was truly the end of the UFC’s experiment with hosting events on FUEL TV (remember, FUEL becomes Fox Sports 2 this August, and no, preliminary cards don’t count), it ended in one of the strangest ways imaginable. A UFC record eight fights ended in submission; four of which ended in less than three minutes. None of the bouts on the main card went the distance, which helped contribute to what felt like an eternity of watching old footage and staring at Kenny Florian’s magnificent hair in between fights. And, of course, there was Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira surrendering to an armbar from Fabricio Werdum in the main event of the evening, marking the first time that Nogueira has opted to submit instead of letting something break.
It would be easy to write about how the once-invincible Nogueira looked like a fighter who should strongly consider retirement, but I can’t help but feel that doing so would be misleading. For starters, focusing on how beatable Big Nog looked would make it seem like the fight was a lopsided, painful to watch beatdown. Although Werdum was in clear control throughout the fight, it was still a pretty close and entertaining scrap between two of the UFC’s best heavyweights.
Perhaps more importantly, attributing Big Nog’s loss solely to Father Time would be an insult to the performance that Fabricio Werdum put forward last night. Right from the start of the fight, Werdum was able to mount Nogueira and began to work for submissions. When Nogueira made his way back to his feet, Werdum got the better of the stand-up exchanges. Rinse, wash, repeat, until Nogueira realized that he wasn’t going to escape the armbar that Werdum locked up in the second round and tapped out.
(Photo by Josh Hedges/Zuffa LLC/Zuffa LLC via Getty Images)
If what we saw last night was truly the end of the UFC’s experiment with hosting events on FUEL TV (remember, FUEL becomes Fox Sports 2 this August, and no, preliminary cards don’t count), it ended in one of the strangest ways imaginable. A UFC record eight fights ended in submission; four of which ended in less than three minutes. None of the bouts on the main card went the distance, which helped contribute to what felt like an eternity of watching old footage and staring at Kenny Florian’s magnificent hair in between fights. And, of course, there was Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira surrendering to an armbar from Fabricio Werdum in the main event of the evening, marking the first time that Nogueira has opted to submit instead of letting something break.
It would be easy to write about how the once-invincible Nogueira looked like a fighter who should strongly consider retirement, but I can’t help but feel that doing so would be misleading. For starters, focusing on how beatable Big Nog looked would make it seem like the fight was a lopsided, painful to watch beatdown. Although Werdum was in clear control throughout the fight, it was still a pretty close and entertaining scrap between two of the UFC’s best heavyweights.
Perhaps more importantly, attributing Big Nog’s loss solely to Father Time would be an insult to the performance that Fabricio Werdum put forward last night. Right from the start of the fight, Werdum was able to mount Nogueira and began to work for submissions. When Nogueira made his way back to his feet, Werdum got the better of the stand-up exchanges. Rinse, wash, repeat, until Nogueira realized that he wasn’t going to escape the armbar that Werdum locked up in the second round and tapped out.
For all intents and purposes, last night’s victory put Fabricio Werdum in line for a shot against the winner of the upcoming rubber match between UFC Heavyweight Champion Cain Velasquez and Junior Dos Santos. His 3-0 run in the UFC has been nothing less than spectacular to watch, and his grappling prowess poses a legitimate threat to anyone in the heavyweight division. He submitted Fedor back when that meant something. He submitted Big Nog last night, who has always been one of our sport’s premier grapplers. If he decides to sit out until Velasquez/Dos Santos III, like he plans on doing, it’ll be hard to argue against giving him the next shot.
And as for Nogueira? There’s no point in writing that he’s in the twilight of his career or that he should hang up the gloves; fans have literally been writing that about him since 2008. He’s going to fight as long as he’s still competitive, and he still looked like a formidable opponent for most of the top-heavy heavyweight division last night. His arm isn’t broken, so he could take another fight by the end of the year if he wanted to. I say match him up against Mark Hunt. Because Pride, you guys.
The rest of the card was a who’s-who of “who’s that?” winning (mostly) by submissions. Notable highlights…
– Your TUF Brazil 2 champion is Leonardo Santos, who tapped out William Patolino in the second round last night. If you follow submission grappling, you’ve probably known about Santos since the late 90s, and were thrilled to watch him pick up a victory in the Octagon last night. At thirty-three years old, I don’t exactly see him having a spectacular run in the UFC, unlike recent TUF champions…um…hmm…
– Oh wait, I thought of one! The first champion of TUF Brazil, Rony Jason, who needed just eighty-four seconds to choke out the previously undefeated Mike Wilkinson last night. He improved to 3-0 in his UFC career, and with that impressive submission on his resume he’s earned a step up in competition for his next bout.
– Last time Thiago Silva fought, I somewhat-jokingly wrote that the result was drug test pending. This time, I’m not joking when I write it. Drug test pending, Silva picked up his first victory since 2009 in a very convincing manner over Raphael “Feijao” Cavalcante. When Thiago Silva is on top of his game, he’s a threat to anyone in the LHW division. Himself included.
– Silva took home $100,000 for both Fight of the Night and Knockout of the Night honors. I personally thought it was far more satisfying to watch Felipe Arantes punch the purple hair dye out of Godofredo Pepey, but you never know, Arantes may end up getting that money after all.
– For whatever reason, Bigfoot Silva took to Twitter to call out Thiago Silva after the fight. You can insert your own rebound fight and/or Thiago ate Bigfoot’s Doritos/Taco Bell/Chips Ahoy jokes in the comments section.
– $50K Submission of the Night honors went to Erick Silva, who reminded everyone why he was riding so much hype before his fight against Jon Fitch with a quick submission over Jason High. He may not be ready for the deep end of the division just yet (ROFL at the idea of having him fight GSP) but he’s an incredibly interesting prospect.
Full Results
Main Card:
Fabricio Werdum def. Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira via Submission (armbar), 2:41 of Round Two
Leonardo Santos def. William Macario via Submission (arm triangle choke), 4:43 of Round Two
Thiago Silva def. Rafael Cavalcante via KO (punches), 4:29 of Round One
Erick Silva def. Jason High via Submission (triangle armbar), 1:11 of Round One
Daniel Sarafian def. Eddie Mendez via Submission (arm triangle choke), 2:20 of Round One
Rony Jason def. Mike Wilkinson via Technical Submission (triangle choke), 1:24 of Round One
Preliminary card:
Raphael Assunçao def. Vaughan Lee via Submission (armbar), 1:51 of Round Two
Felipe Arantes def. Godofredo Pepey via TKO (elbows and punches), 3:32 of Round One
Ildemar Alcantara def. Leandro Silva via Unanimous Decision
Rodrigo Damm def. Mizuto Hirota via Split Decision
Caio Magalhaes def. Karlos Vemola via Submission (rear-naked choke), 2:49 of Round Two
Antonio Braga Neto def. Anthony Smith via Submission (kneebar), 1:52 of Round One
This image is a rare example of both foreshadowing the news and your reaction to it.
Giving yourself a nickname is one of the lamest things you can do, and MMA fighters are some of the most notable offenders. Perhaps I’m just a tad bit jaded from constantly seeing guys calling themselves “The Iceman” or “Hollywood” making their amateur MMA debuts, but I firmly believe that a nickname is something you have to earn. Face it, not everyone deserves the honor of being The White Mamba.
Which is all to say that I was already rolling my eyes at Jacob Volkmann when he announced during yesterday’s WSOF 3: pre-fight media call that he had changed his nickname. Even if he came up with something decent, I wouldn’t have liked his nickname – which is good because what he came up with is terrible.
The man you once knew as Jacob “Christmas” Volkmann would now like you to call him…
This image is a rare example of both foreshadowing the news and your reaction to it.
Giving yourself a nickname is one of the lamest things you can do, and MMA fighters are some of the most notable offenders. Perhaps I’m just a tad bit jaded from constantly seeing guys calling themselves “The Iceman” or “Hollywood” making their amateur MMA debuts, but I firmly believe that a nickname is something you have to earn. Face it, not everyone deserves the honor of being The White Mamba.
Which is all to say that I was already rolling my eyes at Jacob Volkmann when he announced during yesterday’s WSOF 3: pre-fight media call that he had changed his nickname. Even if he came up with something decent, I wouldn’t have liked his nickname – which is good because what he came up with is terrible.
The man you once knew as Jacob “Christmas” Volkmann would now like you to call him…
In fairness to Volkmann, I thought of a few reasons why this nickname actually makes sense:
– I actually look forward to Christmas, so he couldn’t keep calling himself that.
– Despite their reputation off-stage, Motley Crue’s music was pretty weak. Volkmann’s zero wins by knockout and eight decision victories stay true to this.
(It’s not a UFC fight, but you can’t talk awful title fights without at least referencing Sonnen vs. Filho II. Photo courtesy of Sherdog.)
Today we’re talking about bad UFC title fights – fights that fizzled out after weeks of hype, bored even the most die-hard fans among us, and left us baffled that the winner was considered the best in his weight class. Since we’redealing strictly with UFC title fights, notable clunkers like Ruiz vs. Southworth II (Strikeforce), Wiuff vs. Tuchscherer (YAMMA), and Sonnen vs. Filho II (WEC) are ineligible for inclusion. Also, we promise that the only appearance of the name “Ben Askren” in this column lies in this incredibly forced sentence. Read on for our picks, and please, pretty please, send your ideas for future Roundtable topics to [email protected].
Detroit is known by many names – Motown, Motor City, and Hockey Town to name a few. None of which lend to the idea that the birthplace of the assembly line was also a mecca of mixed martial arts or a place to catch great fights on Saturday. Unfortunately, UFC didn’t care; they took the show to the Great Lakes State in 1996 for UFC 9: Clash of the Titans 2 nonetheless. Ken Shamrock and Michigan native Dan Severn were set to face off for the first world title outside of Japan, the UFC Superfight championship. However, thanks to Senator John McCain, instead seeing an exciting rematch that was sure to cover the canvas in bad blood, fans in attendance and at home watching on PPV were treated to what became known as “The Detroit Dance.” And to this day, it is regarded as one of the worst fights in the history of the sport.
(It’s not a UFC fight, but you can’t talk awful title fights without at least referencing Sonnen vs. Filho II. Photo courtesy of Sherdog.)
Today we’re talking about bad UFC title fights – fights that fizzled out after weeks of hype, bored even the most die-hard fans among us, and left us baffled that the winner was considered the best in his weight class. Since we’redealing strictly with UFC title fights, notable clunkers like Ruiz vs. Southworth II (Strikeforce), Wiuff vs. Tuchscherer (YAMMA), and Sonnen vs. Filho II (WEC) are ineligible for inclusion. Also, we promise that the only appearance of the name “Ben Askren” in this column lies in this incredibly forced sentence. Read on for our picks, and please, pretty please, send your ideas for future Roundtable topics to [email protected].
Detroit is known by many names – Motown, Motor City, and Hockey Town to name a few. None of which lend to the idea that the birthplace of the assembly line was also a mecca of mixed martial arts or a place to catch great fights on Saturday. Unfortunately, UFC didn’t care; they took the show to the Great Lakes State in 1996 for UFC 9: Clash of the Titans 2 nonetheless. Ken Shamrock and Michigan native Dan Severn were set to face off for the first world title outside of Japan, the UFC Superfight championship. However, thanks to Senator John McCain, instead seeing an exciting rematch that was sure to cover the canvas in bad blood, fans in attendance and at home watching on PPV were treated to what became known as “The Detroit Dance.” And to this day, it is regarded as one of the worst fights in the history of the sport.
What did McCain have to do with any of this, you ask? The politician was fierce in his letter writing campaign against a sport he knew nothing about. He essentially scared or bullied local government agencies to ban the sport. You know, the more things change, the more they stay the same. Several key components in the UFC machine were tied up in the Detroit courts until 4:30pm the day of the event getting permission to hold an event that was already being set up. The hacks behind the desk said, and I’m paraphrasing here, “You can proceed with your barbaric and uncivilized fisticuffs spectacle as long as no one actually throws a closed fist to his opponents head nor will any butting of the heads be allowed. Anyone seen doing such things will be arrested.”
For the better part of twenty minutes, Shamrock and Severn circled each other with little to no contact. During the last ten minutes of the fight (if you can even call it that) the two played pat-a-cake until Severn decided to throw the special rules right out of Cobo Arena. Despite stalling for two thirds of the fight and head butting his opponent, Dan Severn won the fight and the championship belt. The Michiganders in attendance could be heard throughout the area booing and chanting, “Let’s go Red Wings!” There has never been a more pathetic example of a championship quality fight. The men in the cage deserved to be there, sure, but when you start adding special rules and stipulations, you’re watering down your product. So much so, that Detroit is now in two sport’s Hall of Shame.
It’s kind of ironic that Anderson Silva, who owns the most impressive championship reign in UFC history, also happens to have the distinction of participating in three of the worst championship fights in the company’s history as well. But ironic or not, it’s no less true. Picking the worst of the three is like deciding which segment you want to be in the human centipede, but I suppose it must be done. To that end, I nominate Silva’s bout with Demian Maia at UFC 112 as the worst of the worst.
I remember watching UFC 112 on an internet str- err, on pay-per-view. To say it was an underwhelming card is probably a little more generous than what it deserves, and that was before the main event. Matt Hughes fought Renzo Gracie – who didn’t know how to check leg kicks – for no conceivable reason. Frankie Edgar upset BJ Penn in the most unspectacular way imaginable, via a debatable decision with virtually no emphatic moments throughout the entire fight. But all of this would surely be a footnote when Anderson Silva, fresh off his humiliation of Forrest Griffin, would unveil some hitherto unknown debilitating maneuver that would drop all of our jaws to the floor while our feeble brains attempted to process what we just witnessed.
Instead, Silva spent the vast majority of five rounds dancing, taunting, and throwing the occasional oblique kick. To say it was frustrating doesn’t do it justice. It was maddening, made even more so by the lone flying knee Silva threw out of nowhere in the fight. It knocked Maia down, broke his nose and served as a reminder of just what Silva was capable of… and how he refused to bother indulging the audience with his capability that night. Maia, to his credit, never gave up. At one point in the final round, Maia – with one eye swollen shut – fell in front of Silva and kept swinging wildly from his knees. It was desperate and ineffective, but it exemplified heart and determination in contrast with Silva’s utter lack of such. Silva won the fight, Maia retained his pride, but the audience was left with the worst championship fight you could imagine. The UFC has not bothered returning to Abu Dhabi since.
It’s easy to feel a little sympathy for Tito Ortiz these days. He’s been going through some personal shit – the variety of which we are banned from getting too specific on. But hey, thems the breaks when you shack up with a porn queen. Well-adjusted females with run-of-the-mill daddy issues don’t generally get into fuck films. They just latch onto some poor bastard and systematically suck every ounce of pride and manhood out of him until he’s an obedient slob with a semi-manageable speed habit and a secret fetish for snuff porn. That’s life. The ones that go for the porn queens, well, all I’m saying is disregard the lessons of Little Bill at your own peril.
That sympathy, however, can cause us to forget that there was a time when Tito was a wildly popular UFC champion; not just some dude with a quick mouth and a gigantic head who only tasted victory once during the last six years of his career. It’s hard to deny Tito his accolades. Circa 2002 he was the most successful UFC champion there was. He won the belt and defended it five times. That’s more title defenses than Randy, and even one more than his arch-nemesis, Chuck had. Granted, both of those guys would eventually clown Tito en route to victories (x 2 for Chuck), and of course there was that whole saga of Tito allegedly ducking Chuck, but we’re talking numbers here, bitch. Context is irrelevant when trying to make an absurd point.
Hindsight being 20/20 ‘n shit makes Tito’s title defenses seem mildly comical by modern standards, considering the competition: Yuki Kondo, Evan Tanner, Elvis Sinosic, Vladimir Matyushenko, and Ken Shamrock. But you gotta remember this was pre-TUF, pre-FOX, and pre-UFC monopoly when the glory days of Pride were in full effect. UFC title challengers were often contemptible back then. Incidentally, Dave Menne won the UFC’s inaugural middleweight belt that same night, and well shit I’ll go as far as agree with Danga, Dave Menne – for real???
It’s easy to mock a couple of Tito’s title defenses on grounds of legitimacy. But interestingly enough, perhaps the most legit challenger – Vlady – provided for the worst fight. This was UFC 33, an event which Dana White still to this day describes as, “The worst show we’ve ever had.” It was so bad we could just as easily be talking about the co-main event of the evening – Jens Pulver vs Dennis “Balls” Hallman, but that wasn’t the main event, and the pay per view broadcast didn’t black out in the middle of it – two very important factors that help to solidify Tito Ortiz vs.Vladimir Matyushenko as the worst ever.
According to one analysis, the Tito/Vlady fight produced only 40 “significant strikes.” To further expound on that lamentable figure, in a 25 minute fight that means that a decent strike was landed only once every 37.5 seconds. Might not seem like a long stretch while you’re on YouPorn stroking yourself to some early Jenna, but during an actual fight that’s an eternity of visual pain. Contrast that extreme with a Cain Velasquez, who lands over six significant strikes per minute – or one every ten seconds, and the standard deviation model gets blown all to shit.
Basically, the fight was about as horrific as you’d expect of two wrestlers with rudimentary striking skills. Don’t forget, this was before Tito’s “improved boxing” that Joe Rogan liked to talk about almost as much as his “underrated jiu jitsu.” The bottom line is there have been many terrible title fights in the UFC, but not one of them headlined the worst show ever, and not one of them blacked out on pay per view before the fans could fully experience the horror of just how anally violated they got. So there.
Josh Hutchinson
In deciding the worst UFC title fight I chose to look at a number of criteria. Do I choose one that was boring (GSP/Fitch)? How about one that’s meaningless or undeserved (Jones/Sonnen)? What about one that shames the sport of MMA as whole (Arlovski/Buentello)? Luckily I didn’t have to look far to find a shit sandwich that’s comprised entirely of those three ingredients.
Sean Sherk vs. Hermes Franca at UFC 73 was a complete failure in every sense of the word. A highly forgettable fight, which was put on only to build anticipation for the return of BJ Penn, resulted in a glorified 25 minute sparring session. Someone managed to wake the judges up long enough to decide that Sherk had won, and everyone could start getting damp in their trousers at the thought of Penn fighting for the lightweight title again. Mission accomplished, right? Not quite.
The aftermath of UFC 73 is really what landed this fight as my top pick. It’s a special kind of person that tests positive for anything following a title fight. Honestly, at the highest levels of competition you’d have to be as blind as Anne Frank not to see a drug test coming. It makes it all the more amusing that both Sherk and Franca tested positive for steroids following the fight. I would give up anything in my life to have been able to be a fly on the wall when Dana White heard this news. Something tells me his reaction was a little more than a simple facepalm. As usual, neither fighter was at fault for their positive tests, as Franca was forced by the UFC to roid up, and the CSAC botched Sherk’s results. Hey, these things happen in MMA.
So there you have it folks, a boring ass fight that ended up with both participants being suspended and the champ being stripped of his title. All parties involved, fans especially, would have been better off had these gladiators met under the XARM banner, but alas, it now goes down as the worst title fight in UFC history.
Apparently, now, the CagePotato Roundtable only happens when The Boss is on vacation (which means the inmates run the asylum for a day or two with Mr. Goldtsein’s unbelievable wealth, a seventeen-day luxurious private cruise to the Bahamas – don’t forget my obligatory touristy t-shirt BG) and that means it brings out the “fringe” contributors who enjoy throwing spitballs while generally making a ruckus in the back of the room in order to mess with the substitute instructors.
The topic of the “Worst UFC Title Fight” is a bit of a conundrum for me because, personally, Georges St. Pierre vs. Matt Serra 1 was one of the worst moments of my life because of my inner bro-mance with GSP and my buddies’ propensity for reminding me that my affinity is unnatural. But, I digress. Since I hosted all of the UFC parties (and got ALL the PPV bills) there is still one in particular that pains me.
It was a highly anticipated bout that pitted LHW Champion Randy Couture vs. Vitor Belfort at UFC 46 and if you look at the fight card now, you’d call me a poseur for complaining about this. No shit – the three prelim fights that didn’t air that night had Matt Serra vs. Pat Curran, Josh Thomson vs. Hermes Franca and Georges St. Pierre vs. Karo Parisyan. The PPV featured (in)famous names like Lee Murray, Jorge Rivera, Carlos Newton, Wes Sims, Frank Mir, Matt Hughes and B.J. Penn. The World Series of Fighting would double-barrel jerk-off Mr_Misanthropy AND crappiefloper while Fried Taco watched, if the promoters could get a collection of talent like that [Ed. Note: Wow.].
Needless to say, this main event fight should’ve been awesome but 45 seconds later . . . . . . It was OVER. That’s right! I lasted longer on Prom Night – she’ll tell you too, not by much . . . . but still – than the LHW Championship bout at UFC 46 and I screamed (on both occasions), “WHAT THE FUCK?!”
Then I realized that Couture’s eyeball was literally about to fall completely out of his head – Hostile style. Vitor’s glove grazed his outer eyelid and it caused a HORRIFIC paper cut-esque slice. Yeah, a paper cut that could actually make your eye-ball drop out of your head. It was gross and it was an absolutely warranted stoppage by the hot red-headed doctor (that I still dream of). Yet, 45 seconds later and the championship fight was over without a single punch landing cleanly.
Look, I get that every sport has to start somewhere. I GET THIS. But even by the incredibly low standards of the UFC circa 1997, Frank Shamrock’s light heavyweight title defenses against Igor Zinoviev and John Lober were laughably misguided at best and staged public executions at worst. While the promotion’s heavyweight division featured such names as Mark Coleman, Maurice Smith, and Randy Couture battling it out for the title, down at 205, they were booking Shamrock in freak show matches that even the Japanese wouldn’t touch with a ten foot gunto. The Japanese, you guys.
Where shall we begin?
Ah yes, that’s Franky boy slamming Igor through the mat in under 30 seconds at UFC 16. What a contest.
How a man coming off a pair of draws can be fast-tracked to a title shot in his promotional debut is anyone’s guess. Maybe the UFC honestly thought that this Igor character was the next Randy Couture, or perhaps he just possessed some otherworldly trash-talking skills. In any case, we were left with a pathetic mismatch, one completely shattered collarbone, and a ringside medical crew questioning whether or not a spatula was an appropriate tool to lift a fighter onto a stretcher with by the time all was said and done. Oh yeah, and Igor never fought again. He always knows when it’s about to rain, though, so perhaps it was for the best.
And if you think that’s bad, just try finding a video of Shamrock’s third title defense — a rematch against John Lober at UFC Ultimate Brazil. You won’t be able to, because the UFC most likely destroyed all evidence of the fight for legal reasons. We’ve all heard the story before: Lober managed to score a controversial technical split decision victory over Shamrock at a SuperBrawl event in Hawaii in ’97, so one year later, the UFC decided, “Hey, why not have these two settle the score now that ShamWow is the champ?”
“Sure, Lober has gone 0-5-1 in the time since they first squared off,” they said whilst diving nose first into a mountain of cocaine the likes of which you have never seen, “But it will sell because GRUDGE MATCH.” It’s a strategy that the UFC utilizes to this day, but never did it appear more transparent than during the 7-and-a-half-minute beat down that Shamaroo dished out on Lober before forcing him to tap to strikes.
Lober would go on to score two wins in his next seven contests, and Shamrock would defend the light heavyweight title against his only true test in Tito Ortiz before leaving the UFC citing “a lack of competition.” No shit.
Wow, you guys certainly left me with some options, huh? Let’s see…I guess I should point out that Ben Goldstein, if he was available to contribute, would have picked Anderson Silva vs. Thales Leites, which is the only reason why I won’t be covering that turd on a plate. I could go old-school, “how the hell is one of those guys fighting for a title in the first place?” and tackle Pat Miletich vs. Andre Pederneiras or Maurice Smith vs. Randy Couture, but considering how weak the talent pool in general was back then, it really wouldn’t be fair to include them. So instead I’ll do something even broader, lazier, yet somehow twice as deserving as the rest of the fights we’ve omitted combined, and nominate all of Tim Sylvia’s title defenses as my selection.
Boring title fights from guys like Anderson Silva and Georges St. Pierre – while infuriating for fans to watch – are at least forgivable on the basis that they’re boring because the champion is simply that much more talented than the guy across the cage from him. I may not get too excited about watching GSP jab for five rounds, but I’ll be damned if I don’t acknowledge him as the greatest welterweight in the history of our sport. With Tim Sylvia, this was most definitely not the case.
Sylvia was a champion when the heavyweight division was weak enough for the “Cabbage” Correiras of the world to pick up victories inside the Octagon. During his reign over the heavyweight division, the “strikers” either lacked anything resembling technique (Exhibit A: Gan McGee) or lacked a tough enough chin to actually exchange punches with the big man (Exhibit B: Sylvia/Arlovski III), and the grapplers lacked the striking chops necessary to penetrate The Maine-iac’s awkward jabs (Exhibit C: Jeff Monson). In a sport defined by the diverse skills and athleticism of its athletes, Sylvia managed to defend the UFC heavyweight title that Cain Velasquez proudly wears by simply taking up space and staying on his feet; a “Great White Stiff” with unlimited upward mobility, ”the poster child for over-achievement.”
Fortunately for the fans who tried to stay awake during his title defenses, he was eventually matched up against Randy Couture, and that fight was incredibly memorable thanks to A.) how badass The Natural is and B.) a moment early in the first round, when Couture took Sylvia’s back and (not quite) Fatty Boom-Boom (yet) stalled in an effort to get a completely unnecessary stand-up, which inspired one of Joe Rogan’s greatest rants (“You’re on your back, tough! Figure out a way to get up! If that’s boring, baseball’s about a million times more boring!” Classic.). Ever since that fight, Sylvia began his transformation into the amorphous blob of his former self who loses to guys you’ve never heard of on the “Where are they now?” circuit that we know today. He’s still holding out hope for the possibility of a UFC comeback, but after watching him defend the once-meaningless UFC heavyweight championship…it’s probably for the best that he never even gets close to fighting for it again.
Did we repress all memories of your least-favorite UFC title fight? Then have the honor of ruining our weekends by bringing it up in the comments section.
