They’re actually going to do this. After replacements and upsets and injuries and scheduling problems and repeated assertions that the latest date would not work because hair simply does not wash itself, all the principals in the Strikeforce Heavyweight Grand Prix finally gave a collective shrug and said, meh, why don’t we go ahead and wrap this up.
And wrap it up they will, tonight in San Jose, Calif. Veteran submission grappler Josh Barnett stares across the cage at the supremely skilled fire hydrant of a man that is Daniel Cormier.
Cormier (9-0) is an Olympic wrestler, but it’s those bowling balls at the ends of his arms that opponents fear the most these days. Against Antonio Silva back in September, Cormier, who trains at the elite and aptly named American Kickboxing Academy, wobbled and then toppled his larger opponent with laser-guided lefts and rights.
The quick jabs found Silva’s jaw every time. The big overhands repeatedly buried themselves in that special spot behind the ear. It was clear Cormier’s standup was ready for prime time, and had improved greatly since his previous fight, in which he had also showed great strides in battering and decisioning Jeff Monson.
The Silva win was Cormier’s sixth by KO, TKO or taps from strikes. I’m no Bas Rutten, but that would appear to be a not insignificant data point. Cormier is dangerous in all phases, and has a shark’s keen sense for blood.
And yet, you saw the headline. You know I think Barnett is going to win. Convincingly. Why do I think that in a matchup that seems so even?
True, the Olympic freestyle wrestler is unassailable in that particular phase, at least in an absolute value context. He is an Olympic freestyle wrestler, after all. He brushed off Silva’s takedowns like he was pushing away a begging dog, and splayed Bigfoot flat on his back the one time he actually seemed interested in doing so.
But Monson and Bigfoot are not Josh Barnett. They don’t have Barnett’s guile or guts (not to mention skills). Barnett may be the cagiest cage fighter on Earth. That’s the kernel of his advantage in this grand prix final, both horizontally and vertically
Back to the standup phase for a moment. Cormier has apparently fallen in love with his own fists. Call it the Liddell stratagem: Cormier has honed his MMA wrestling so that he need never use it. But for all the emphasis placed on it, and for all its power and precision, Cormier’s standup is pretty vanilla. He’s got great combos. He’ll throw a knee from the clinch or wing a head kick here and there. For the most part, though, he’s planting and punching. His hand speed is terrific, but the rest of his body movements are not exactly Dos Santosian.
What I’m saying is, it’s not exactly a challenge on par with landing the Space Shuttle to stay away from the ends of Cormier’s fists. Sure, easier said than done, but a little creativity, a little evasiveness and a little unorthodoxy could go a long way. And that’s just where Barnett excels.
Let’s put a finer, more tangible point on it. We all know Barnett’s bread and butter is grappling. If striking is merely a means to an end for Barnett, then the key to this fight might be the leg kick.
Cormier likes to throw leg kicks to find his range and “stay busy” while he’s loading the next overhand into the chamber. There is almost nothing behind those leg kicks. Barnett could easily catch one, as he did to great effect against Brett Rogers. It epitomizes the kind of destabilization on which Barnett thrives and which Cormier has probably never encountered.
The notion of catching a leg kick leads to the central question of the fight: can Barnett get the Olympian to the ground?
Sure can. Barnett knows how to time his takedowns to capitalize on all sorts of vulnerabilities. Like a lazy leg kick, for example. Like when an opponent plants himself to swing, which, as noted, is something Cormier sort of likes doing.
Barnett’s prodigious chin is another unlikely weapon. He’s only been knocked out once, and that was 11 years ago against young demon Pedro Rizzo. So he’s likely not going to fall victim to the big shot. And if he does get caught, there could be a bit of a rope-a-dope opportunity when Cormier charges in for the kill. So let Cormier plant. Let him swing. Barnett knows how to exploit opponents who don’t even realize they’re being exploited.
Once the action hits the mat, Barnett knows how to chain moves together. Triangle, armbar, kimura, rear naked, heel hook, knee bar. What if Barnett goes for a key lock? It’s all on the table. He won’t let Cormier rest, and might throw things at Cormier that he’s not used to seeing or defending, particularly with his heavy training focus on kickboxing. Barnett’s 15-pound, four-inch size advantages won’t hurt him here, either.
Bottom line: Cormier is an outstanding wrestler and an ardent headhunter. But his ability to thrive during chaos is unproven. What happens when the game plan goes awry? It just so happens that Barnett eats game plans for breakfast and produces chaos like it’s a bodily function. He builds houses out of it in the cage, drags his opponents inside and draws down the blinds.
He’ll find a way to get Cormier horizontal, either on his own or by frustrating Cormier on the feet to the point that he compels Cormier to deploy Plan B. Barnett may be the only heavyweight in the world whose ground game is such that getting taken down by a world-class wrestler constitutes getting that world-class wrestler right where he wants him.
Barnett will find a way to kick up enough dust to confound his less-savvy adversary. That’s been the Josh Barnett story in the cage for years now, and it will be the story again tonight.
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