Even through an orchestra of slot machine jangles and a Taylor Swift mashup blasting from one of the casino bars, Brian Foster’s voice is impossible to miss.
“It’s been too long, man,” he shouted with his deep southern drawl that is immediately inviting, but at a volume that made a few groups of bystanders turn their heads in curiosity. “Good thing you can write, because you definitely aren’t getting any better-looking.”
While the contact between us had remained frequent since I met him back in the spring of 2011, two solid years had passed since we last stood face-to-face. And where there had been plenty of ups and downs of various severity in his career over that stretch, on that Thursday afternoon the scrappy welterweight from Sallisaw, Oklahoma, was absolutely beaming with positive energy.
The smile on his face was seemingly as big as his profile on the huge digital sign that hung above the entrance to the Axis Theater—the place where he would finally make his return to the spotlight. We stood there looking up at the promotional ad for World Series of Fighting 17: Jake Shields vs. Brian Foster, and it was impossible to ignore the look of satisfaction he wore standing in the red hues the sign cast.
After four years of trials and tribulations where his hopes of reigniting his fighting career were sparked, dashed, then lit again, the former UFC fighter-turned-resurgent-veteran had finally reached a place where his past had begun to fade out and his future was illuminated.
A few hours later, after getting in a hard workout with teammate Chris Camozzi, the 29-year-old powerhouse expanded on the emotions of finally landing a high-profile fight. In three days he would step in against former Strikeforce champion and former UFC title challenger Jake Shields in the main event of a promotion that had been making solid strides since its launch back in 2012.
“It feels like one chapter is closing and another one is fitting to begin,” Foster said as he relaxed for a second in his hotel room. “All the suffering is finally coming to an end, and all the sacrifices I’ve made and all of the times I’ve had to pick myself up off the ground and start again are all worthwhile. It’s been a long road back, brother, and even though I’m nowhere near achieving my goals, this is a pretty damn good start.”
While the struggles that have plagued Foster’s fighting career have been well-documented (by this writer especially), articles and interviews hardly do the reality of his situation justice.
Just north of four years ago, he suffered an injury during a sparring session in his preparation to face Sean Pierson at UFC 129, an incident that would begin a chain of events that put his livelihood in jeopardy. The UFC refused to give him clearance due to an issue that arose on his MRI in his pre-fight medicals, and his bout in Toronto was scrapped.
Shortly after receiving that news, things continued to travel on a downward turn as he was released from his contract with the UFC. Suddenly, the surging 170-pound striker went from finishing future contender Matt Brown and picking up his second consecutive victory inside the Octagon to being just another addition to a long list of fighters who used to compete under the Zuffa banner.
Nevertheless, while losing his place on the UFC roster was an unfortunate setback, it would hardly be the end of his troubles, as the next three years brought a storm of chaos into his life.
He would sign with Bellator and be hyped to compete in the promotion’s Season 6 welterweight tournament, but those plans would also fall by the wayside when his past injury came back to haunt him—only this time it would lead to his name being added to the list of fighters who are nationally suspended and therefore prohibited from competing in the United States.
Yet, while his resolve, patience and resilience would be tested over that period, the door was finally closing on one of the toughest stretches of his life.
And when considering how much Foster has had taken away from him (his father was murdered when he was 13, and his brother Brandon was killed in a hiking accident back in 2006), the magnitude of the situation as a whole would begin to take shape for anyone who had been paying attention.
“I’ve been through so much just to get here, and people will never understand,” Foster explained later that night as we strolled through the seemingly endless maze of the Planet Hollywood casino.
“I’ve spent my entire life trying to get my feet back under me after having my heart ripped out of my chest, and I’ve been through s**t that would make most people crumble. But I’m still standing, man, and I can feel the time coming where I get to show the world what I’m all about.”
The energy that was so obvious upon our meeting would only continue to amplify as that Thursday night grew longer on the Las Vegas Strip. As people from all over the world were watching their fortunes rise and fall on craps tables and roulette wheels in Sin City, Foster was sharing the amazement of just how much training at altitude in Denver had strengthened his cardio.
Alongside The Ultimate Fighter alum Camozzi, fellow teammate Chase Hackett was there to show support and help Foster chip away at the remaining few pounds that remained on his weight cut before hitting the scale on Friday afternoon.
As I made a quiet exit that night, the last thing I saw was Foster shadowboxing at the end of a long hallway on the eighth floor of the hotel, and the weight and realization of just how far this man had come to reach the place he now stood finally set in.
***
There once was a time where getting back to the UFC was all Brian Foster thought about. Phone call after phone call during the darkest days of his suspension was nothing but a constant string of questions as to why he was being held back from fulfilling his dream and bolstering the self-confidence to convince himself that fighting inside the Octagon and competing with the best fighters in the world was where he belonged.
That said, as he milled about backstage at the Axis Theater on Friday afternoon, waiting to step on the scale and make his bout with Shields official, the most successful promotion in the sport was the furthest thing from his mind.
Time and circumstance had created a wedge between Foster and the place he once held so highly, but the business at hand was drawing near, and there was a new organization which showed its belief in his skills.
“I’m a happy man fighting for WSOF,” Foster blasted as he walked down the hall to distance himself from a group of fighters who were suffering on their way to the scale. “These guys signed me and gave me a main event fight against one of the best welterweights in the world. How could I not be happy with that? Plus, the money is good, and I’m working with good people here. It’s a great situation, and I’m fired up to be fighting for them.”
As the official weigh-ins got underway and the rest of the fighters on the card began to drag themselves up to the stage, Foster was pulsing with energy behind the divider. Where he had been only five pounds off the 171-pound limit the night prior, he awoke that morning even lighter and with less weight to cut.
Those circumstances would raise the spirits of anyone who is familiar with the weight-cutting process, and as Foster waited for his name to be called, he continued to shake out his arms and legs in an effort to keep his composure in check.
On the other side of the crowd, his opponent, Jake Shields, was the model of relaxed cool. The San Francisco native’s history of rough weight cuts are well-known throughout the MMA community, but in the lead-up to his official weigh-in for the bout with Foster, the Team Cesar Gracie representative appeared to be in firm control of the process.
While Shield’s appearance surprised several fighters and coaches waiting for their turns on the scale, it only seemed to increase Foster’s anticipation for the fight.
“He looks good, and I’m glad,” Foster said as he continued to shoot eyes over in Shields’ direction. “Looks like he’s in great shape, and that’s the Jake I want to fight. I want to step in there with him at his best, and anything less than that would be unacceptable in my mind.”
While his bravado and confidence continued to ratchet up in the few minutes that remained before taking the stage, there was also something else—something yet unseen—that seemed to be motivating him in those moments before walking out to weigh in. Foster is very much a salt-of-the-earth, heart-on-his-sleeve type of guy, but there was a little something extra providing a boost backstage.
Several moments later, after both fighters made weight and the main event for WSOF 17 became official, Foster returned backstage, where he finally elaborated on the added bit of fuel that had boosted an already raging fire.
“The first fight is officially over, and I won,” he said with a huge smile on his face.
Where fighters often refer to their battle with the scale being the fight before the fight, having to cut only a handful of pounds on weigh-in day didn’t carry enough pop to explain his level of excitement.
“That’s one huge hurdle behind us,” Hackett added as he slapped Foster on the back. “The fight is officially set, and you’re going to compete tomorrow night in Las Vegas. This is one of the best commissions in the world, and you are never going to have to deal with those issues again. The door is closed on the past, and now it’s time to start your future.”
As Hackett, Foster and Camozzi moved with their conversation and began to discuss dinner plans, the full scope of the moment began to become clear: Where Foster had spent the past four years fighting governing bodies in MMA to prove he was healthy enough to compete, his bout’s becoming official represented a shift into a new era for the hard-charging welterweight.
The Nevada State Athletic Commission is the standard-bearer for other commissions around the country, and with Foster receiving his license, being medically cleared and making weight for his bout in Las Vegas, old ghosts would finally be put to rest.
For the first time in as long as he could remember, the only thing Foster had to focus on was defeating the man standing across from him inside the cage. And despite how enormous a task besting a fighter with one of the best resumes on the current landscape of MMA was going to be, it was one he was elated to get after.
Foster’s ear-to-ear grin was shining brightly as he’d put away one major challenge, and he was only 24 hours from coming face-to-face with his next tough obstacle. Nevertheless, in that moment Foster was happy—truly happy in the realization of how far he’d come—and the time to shift gears and summon the internal fire that had made him a feared finisher in the welterweight ranks had finally arrived.
***
“Turn that up,” Foster growled as he resumed stalking the mat in the backstage locker room.
Upon hearing his request, fellow teammate and current Bellator fighter Dustin Jacoby cranked up the volume on the speaker, and country music filled the small space.
In an hour he would sit while his head coach at Factory X, Marc Montoya, would sit to wrap his hands, and then commission would come in, sign off and put the blue tape on his gloves. Once this was completed, Hackett would hit the mat to roll through several grappling exchanges as they attempted to get Foster primed for Shields’ strongest weapon.
Where the mood had been loose and jovial the day before, the vibe in Foster’s locker room on fight day was a stark contrast.
Several minutes after stepping foot in the two-roomed outpost WSOF had given him to prepare, Foster took a framed picture of his late brother Brandon from his gym bag and hammered in a nail so that he could hang it on the wall. Upon withdrawing the picture from his bag, Foster dropped to his knees and clutched it tightly as he whispered words to the photo with his eyes closed, deep in his own personal mental space.
After placing the frame on the wall of the training room, Foster once again took several moments to share some internal thoughts with the person who made him want to be a fighter. In addition to his three sons back home in Oklahoma, his brother was and will forever be the driving force behind Foster’s career fighting inside the cage.
When his eyes opened again and he turned around, there was something different about him.
Several moments prior, he was a man getting ready to step into hand-to-hand combat, but when he turned around and returned to moving on the mat, something had changed within him. The smile was gone. The loose and instantly likable southern charm was suddenly absent, and in its place stood a fighter.
While the overall transformation had been in process all day, the sharp turn into a man who was fierce and ready for battle was abrupt.
“We’re up next,” Camozzi said as he tapped Foster on the shoulder. The Oklahoma native was rocking from side to side—continuously shifting his weight from one foot to the other as the clock ticked closer to showtime.
Several minutes later, the fight on the television screen in the locker room came to an end, which was immediately followed by a knock on the door telling Foster it was time to go.
He kept his head down and his breathing steady as he navigated the narrow hallway, down two flights of stairs and out into the wide-open space of the main stage of the Axis Theater. Behind the curtain, fight-hungry fans waited for their main event, and the platform Foster had been scrapping tooth and nail to reclaim was just seconds away from being his.
While there were only a handful of seconds before he had to make the walk down to the cage, Foster made sure to go to each one of his teammates and coaches who had stayed by his side, supported and prepared him for the biggest fight of his career, and thank them for their belief in him and the effort they invested to make sure he was ready for what was to come.
Each embrace was sincere. Each exchange was filled with encouragement and care, and when Shinedown’s version of “Simple Man” hit the speakers in the theater, Foster walked around the curtain and dove headlong into the fray, as the next chapter of his life was about to unfold under the bright lights.
***
When an athlete signs on for a career in combat sports, he is willingly boarding a roller coaster of uncertainty. Fighting, by its very nature, is a brutal, unforgiving endeavor, one that comes with the possibility of tremendous highs when victory is obtained and desolate lows when defeat comes to call.
In the locker room following Foster’s submission by Shields in the first round, the mood was somber and silent.
He had started out on a positive note—keeping his distance and landing several shots at range and breaking free when Shields looked for the clinch—but the savvy veteran capitalized on a moment of over-aggression and took control as he put Foster on the canvas.
With Shields possessing one of the most dominant ground games in the sport, having his back to the mat is the last place Foster wanted to be, and it didn’t take long for Shields to apply his offensive attack.
The former Strikeforce titleholder moved through his progressions from top position, and Foster did his best to defend himself until the “Skrap Pack” representative found the opportunity he’d been working for and locked in a fight-ending rear-naked choke.
Shortly after Foster tapped out from the pressure Shields applied, he sat on his knees in the center of the cage as disappointment hung heavily on his face. The battle he’d envisioned in his mind never materialized, and a brief mistake once the cage door closed had brought his long-awaited comeback to a sour end.
Ever the sportsman, Foster walked over to give Shields a congratulatory hug for a job well done, then made his way out of the cage and back toward the locker room where he’d stood only several minutes before. As the team filed in behind him, Foster was silent as he attempted to replay what had gone wrong in the fight.
He hadn’t overlooked or underestimated Shields’ ground-game talents in the slightest; he just simply couldn’t stop what many other exceptional fighters were also overwhelmed by once they squared off with the submissions ace.
Foster’s misfortune inside the cage kept things silent inside the locker room as he and Montoya stepped over to the corner to discuss the fight. While Foster remained speechless, his coach reiterated over and over how much he believed in Foster’s heart, drive and skill set. Montoya refused to allow Foster to beat himself up over what unfolded in the fight with Shields and ensured his fighter that this was just one small step in what was going to be a great return.
Foster nodded his head in agreement as Montoya embraced him once more, then the coach slipped away to give him his fighter time and space to absorb the outcome.
As Hackett set about gathering up their belongings and clearing out the locker room, Foster quickly came to the center of the mat to address his teammates. His apology was immediately met with correction from his brothers in arms as they took turns building up a man they truly believed in.
And while Foster couldn’t shake the obvious disappointment from his face, he did assure his teammates that his presence in Denver was going to be full-time going forward.
“I’m going right back to the gym,” he said with heavy eyes. “I can’t live with what just happened in that fight, and the only way to fix it is to be in the gym busting my ass. I’m going to make the cut to 155, and I’m not leaving Las Vegas until they get me another fight. It’s what I have to do, and I’m going to be there in Denver on Monday.”
In addition to informing his teammates and coaches that he was going to make the move to Denver, Foster also confirmed to them that his next fight would come as a lightweight.
That shift had been set in motion prior to the bout with Shields and was the reason he’d come into the fight at a much lighter weight than ever before. Yet those were all things to come in the future, and he still had to deal with the reality of what had transpired against Shields in the cage.
That said, Foster was going to keep things positive while he made his peace with the loss, and his teammates echoed his sentiment as they passed around encouragements for their close friend.
After a quick shower, Foster burst out of the locker room en route to finding WSOF matchmaker Ali Abdel-Aziz with the full intention of getting another bout lined up that instant. The promotion has two cards on the docket in the coming months, and Foster was hellbent on getting confirmation that he’d be fighting on one of them.
After a quick talk with Abdel-Aziz with a promise to discuss things in greater detail later in the night, Foster and his crew took the side exit and made the walk back to their hotel rooms. As his teammates fell into conversations with fellow fighters and familiar faces from the fight business, Foster kept to himself—with his head down aside from the occasional shake in disbelief—until they had arrived back at the rooms.
Once inside, Foster drifted off to find solitude and took his phone from his pocket. It had been ringing non-stop since the fight ended, and the list of missed calls on the screen wasn’t something he was interested in looking at. Yet there was one very important phone call that needed to be made, and with a heavy heart, he dialed the number to speak with his sons, who had been watching back home in Oklahoma.
In that moment, he wasn’t just a fighter who had been bested on live television or a man whose comeback had been stunted in abrupt fashion by a former world champion—he was a father.
He was a dad who needed to call the three people who love him the most in this world to tell them that he was not hurt, but most importantly, to show that even when you are knocked down, it’s getting back up that matters the most.
Yet while he didn’t find everything he was looking for when he came to Las Vegas to fight in the main event at WSOF 17, Foster did discover that even when the chips are down and disappointment is hanging heavy overhead, the bigger picture of his life remains fully intact.
Victory may have eluded him on this run, and the setback he suffered against Shields may ultimately force his road back to take a few extra turns, but it still wasn’t enough to shake the resolve he’d forged on his journey to get to where he stood.
Fighting is a brutal, unforgiving sport by its very nature, and Brian Foster is a fighter through and through. He’s wired to overcome adversity and press onward. That’s the only way he knows, and that is how he will continue.
While he may be back in the gym on Monday and find himself fighting at 155 pounds on an upcoming WSOF card, he’ll still be fighting for the people who matter the most to him in his life. On Saturday night, three of those people were waiting anxiously on the other end of the phone, and the other was locked in his heart as a life cut short and the reason his journey began in the first place.
Foster may not have found victory on Saturday night, but he’ll now go forward free of the weight that once threatened to drown his career.
That’s redemption on a grander scale, and a lesson he can one day pass on to those people who make every bit of sacrifice worthwhile.
Duane Finley is a featured columnist for Bleacher Report. All quotes are obtained firsthand unless noted otherwise.
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