10 lessons from the Jon Jones drug testing debacle

The Jon Jones drug testing situation is, among other things, a disaster. It’s also not done unfolding, not by a long shot. Yet, already, there are some lessons that can be learned. This list is by no means definitive or complete, but here are ten that should be considered.

1. With some exception, drug testing isn’t what athletic commissions do. If you review the history of athletic commissions, their creation and use have largely been for administrative functions or to bring the force of government into previously unregulated activity. That’s why there’s little issue when commissions perform those functions. Yes, some fighters get licenses when they shouldn’t and there’s been a weigh-in scandal or two, but those duties are typically carried out without much incident.

Anti-doping is a new a frontier. It’s expensive, requires immense subject matter expertise and year-round, day-in and day-out diligence. That’s something commissions, typically, don’t have and weren’t designed to tackle. They have limited budgets, few (if any) full-time personnel and are tasked with serving the interests of the state. It’s not at all a coincidence that improper drug testing is routinely their biggest problem.

There are exceptions. This isn’t to say it can’t ever work, but places where it does, e.g. New Jersey, benefit from special circumstances. This isn’t also to say we can’t expect them to do more because they’re limited. The point here is to understand how far aware we are and why we are, so we can better understand how to make real improvement.

2. Being halfway with WADA regulations creates problems. Nevada’s regulatory code is a mess. In certain respects, they abide by the guidelines set by the World Anti-Doping Association (WADA). In other ways, they don’t. For example, they still employ a 6:1 testosterone-to-epitestosterone (T/E) standard for violation when WADA is now 4:1. They also don’t use the same type or level of screening for different forms of tests in different kinds of in or out-of-competition windows, the very kind called for by WADA. There are other examples as well, but the key is this. Cherry-picking from the code, or leaving the existing one in place to age and become outdated, creates not just a lack of uniformity, but deep mistrust in a system that makes things seem arbitrary.

3. Expertise matters. A situation involving regulatory mistakes, erudition of the human endocrine system, modern anti-doping testing procedure and other esoterica is too heady for almost anyone to follow. At a minimum, it requires patience, but also the ability to resist judgements or stretch one’s actual expertise.

Yet, I read or was subject to incessant cries and claims about lapses in media coverage when Jones’ testing documents were revealed. Why, it was asked, isn’t the MMA media doing more to cover the real story here? After all, internet sleuths have already determined his results with regard to T/E ratios indicate foul play. And that NAC? They covered the whole thing up, we’re told.

To call this unhelpful (if not outright irresponsible) would be to elevate it from its current position.

While all of this was taking place, I was trying to research the subject by talking to experts. I spoke with many, including Dr. Don Catlin. Catlin is the founder of the UCLA Olympic Analytical Laboratory, which is the first U.S. anti-doping lab, where he served as director for 25 years. During his tenure, the lab became the “the world’s largest testing facility of performance-enhancing drugs.” Catlin has previously provided expert analysis in MMA-related anti-doping matters when he questioned the medical explanations of former UFC middleweight Chael Sonnen for his use of prohibited substances.

Here is a portion of my exchange with Catlin:

The main question is simple: Why is the T/E ratio for Jon Jones seemingly so low?

I wouldn’t pay much attention to it. T/E ratios — the mean, the average — is around 1.0, but that means there’s going to be lots of cases greater than 1. If it’s more than 14 or 15, you start worrying about them using testosterone, but if it’s less than 1, you don’t worry about them taking testosterone. That’s not the answer.

He could be taking epistestosterone. That would give a low ratio, but to find that out, you’ve got to know what you’re doing in the testing and I don’t think the people doing the testing really understand what’s going on.

Jones was screened via urinalysis. Is there a difference in the reliability of results when the test is conducted via urinalysis as opposed to blood testing?

Well, blood test is always better, but you don’t have a blood test. You’ve only got a urine test. You don’t have a T/E ratio in a blood test. In the blood test all you get is the amount, the concentration, of testosterone. It’s fairly unusual for that to be out of whack.

But it could be and that would be a sign that is something is wrong. Here you’ve got a low T/E ratio. Where you get a low T/E ratio is to take epitestosterone.

Are there natural explanations for why it could be that low?

Yeah, the normal range is from around .1 up to 4, so you can be that low and have absolutely nothing wrong.

Ultimately, “It’s probably normal,” Catlin said, “but I need follow-up tests.” With Jones being cleared (for now) with the CIR results, we have some answers. More questions remain, but we require additional information before proceeding.

Notice, though, the utterly different tenor of his proclamations relative to what was being circulated among fans and media. The takeaway here is self-educating or asking pertinent, pointed questions about seeming irregularities is justified. In fact, it’s necessary. Those efforts, though, have to be married with a sense of one’s own limits. The subject matter here is dense and the outcomes could portend massive consequences for the sport. Being prudent doesn’t mean being soft or accommodating. It means fairness to the athletes, hard-to-unearth facts and an often painstaking discovery process.

4. Preserving the in-vs-out-of-competition distinction is critically important. The Nevada Athletic Commission will review its in-vs-out-of-competition drug testing parameters on January 12th. This makes me extremely nervous. While often complicated and hard to make sense of, the distinction between the two types of testing are critical. WADA makes it for a number of reasons, not least of which is so testing organizations don’t morph into lifestyle police. If what and when athletes are introducing to their bodies is relevant for competition, then appropriate testing should take place. If it’s not, why should expensive tests or manpower be employed to determine how and why fighters live their lives?

This is where athletic commissions being tasked with more than administrative functions becomes scary. In a effort to simplify a difficult process, I worry they’ll remove the distinction between in and out-of-competition testing altogether, the results of which could be hugely harmful. Fighters being subject to penalty for wayward personal acts that have no bearing on athletic competition is a recipe for disaster. We know that to be true because we’ve already seen it with Nick Diaz and this very commission. Let us hope the NAC realizes if drug testing is to be done correctly, it means, despite being complicated, there are very good reasons for two different types of testing.

5. However, fighters are right to have questions. Here’s the problem, though. While it’s correct that testing positive for substances out-of-competition that aren’t banned as such shouldn’t carry penalty, it’s entirely understandable why fighters would have issues about a lack of punishment for Jones. For one, Jones’ results run headlong into the UFC’s own Code of Conduct. Two, fighters who have been tested in-competition and popped positive for marijuana have a legitimate argument about the improper urine testing that is overturning their wins and taking away their bonuses. Third, while not true, the whole thing reeks of favoritism.

The solution? Commissions should do nothing about penalizing fighters for testing positive for substances that aren’t banned out-of-competition when tested that way. The UFC, however, should consider it. After all, it violates no commission law, but it does run against the Code. At a minimum, they need to do a much better job of educating fighters about what is and isn’t a violation. Retreating to the line that “We [the UFC] follow the commission’s lead” essentially negates the entire point of having a Code in the first place.

6. UFC abandoning out-of-competition testing via third party is a bad idea. Let’s put aside the timing of the UFC’s announcement that they are abandoning plans for year-round, third-party out-of-competition testing. The fact alone, independent of its bizarre timing, is troubling in light of this fiasco. It also makes little sense. The UFC intends to host 23 shows abroad next year, many of which will still require self-regulation. Moreover, if the Cung Le situation – the alleged fallout of which UFC says precipitated the decision to abandon their testing plans – is the problem, it’s hard to see how taking the money intended for the aforementioned program and diverting it to commissions for their versions of enhanced testing is in any way an upgrade. No system is perfect, but athletic commission testing (outside of places like New Jersey) is not able to reliably do the job.

7. UFC’s public messaging did them few favors. Everyone wanted the fight. Jones, Cormier, media, fans, the athletic commission and UFC all clamored for it. All parties likely would still have felt that way even if the December 4th results where Jones tested positive for cocaine had been revealed before Christmas. Going forward with that information, though, means having a clear, understandable and uncomplicated logic for doing so. It’s a rational decision to want the fight to continue, but a difficult one to defend. The UFC were placed in an unenviable position, but that doesn’t absolve them from not handling this better.

The argument Jones had a ‘right’ to fight is arguably true, but terribly unconvincing. Maybe it’s believable Jones could’ve sought a court remedy to keep UFC 182 on the tracks had UFC tried to kill it, but the entire scenario seems far fetched. No one had a real incentive to want the event to be canceled. Billion-dollar UFC positioning itself as though they were contemplating it, but had their hands tied is a profoundly unrealistic scenario. As for UFC 151 or UFC 176 – events the UFC canceled when the main events fell through – did those fighters who didn’t get the opportunity to compete have a ‘right’ to do so?

As my colleague Jeff Wagenheim points out, the idea UFC is deeply concerned with Jones’ health, yet allowed him to compete in an event where they have an enormous financial interest is also dubious. If the concern was so great, why not address his allegedly troubling drug use ahead of time?

I can’t speak for the UFC, but they wouldn’t be wrong to say, “Everyone would’ve wanted it no matter what.” More than any other argument they’ve actually made, that is convincing. It’s also honest and understandable, too. That’s a tough argument to make, but surely that’s a better alternative to employing poor messaging meant to defend being secretive after the fact. Candor carries its own set of risks, but at least keeps the relationship between the UFC and other stakeholders or observers on a foundation of trust.

8. Controversy can be good for the fighter. This is a big ‘if’, but one worth considering: If Jones leaves rehab, is better able to manage his personal affairs and dedicate himself in a way to his craft that he has yet to do, this moment in his career, for all its present ugliness, could serve to boost his star status. Sports fans love a redemption story. Hell, most people do. While I wouldn’t call this moment a dramatic fall from grace, it should be a bit of a wake-up call. He has real ability and lofty goals, but they are within his grasp. Watching a flawed person finally put those distractions aside to attain their dreams and set records is just the sort of thing to galvanize support.

9. ABC should be empowered to make drug testing more transparent. Boxing is federally regulated and isn’t much (or any) better at policing doping within its ranks, so that isn’t necessarily the right fix for this problem. Instead, a system where the Association of Boxing Commissions (ABC) does more than serve in an advisory role is needed. We need the ABC to establish protocol of what a proper annual drug testing looks like, costs, and otherwise involves. We need this information to be public and accessible to anyone with an Internet connection. We need a road map and a blueprint. We need some measure of tax dollars given to the ABC to help assist commissions or serve as liaisons to ensure they’re up to snuff. Some states have more expertise than others. Some states have more needs than others. There’s always going to be inequality. The key, though, is to empower the community through information. ABC meetings are for ABC attendees. They should be the priority, but not the exclusivity.

10. This is not over. As tiresome or troubling as this saga has been, we are still awaiting the in-competition testing results for both Jones and Cormier. We’re also waiting on the CIR results documents themselves. Much will be made of them, one way or the other.

But I’m not even referring to these two athletes. I’m speaking of the broader future. Drug testing in mixed martial arts is not conducted with great competency. It’s confusing, irregularly applied, often lacking in transparency, imprecise or downright ineffectual. It works, but not often enough and sometimes by dumb luck.

It’s also not that way by accident. Those tasked with the job of carrying it out might be well intentioned, but are badly out of their depth. Those capable of fixing it are doubling down on an already broken system. Jones’ case is high profile and, therefore, partly unique, but he is not alone. He is certainly not the last. And depending on what happens on January 12th, his case could be more of the same or worse, the beginning of something truly problematic.