(“I would have picked Joey Beltran or Pat Barry but they both just fought.”)
If you’ve been following the story on other MMA websites — and I don’t know why you would be since we thought you were our bros — Fabricio Werdum was rumored to be headed back to the UFC, but then he sort of denied the rumors and sort of didn’t by saying he couldn’t talk about it. Well, “Vai Cavalo” may have let the cat out of the bag that he’s Octagon-bound today since he’s now calling out UFC heavyweight Brendan Schaub — an interesting choice for a guy who beat Fedor Emelianenko and went to a decision against Alistair Overeem in his past two bouts.
(“I would have picked Joey Beltran or Pat Barry but they both just fought.”)
If you’ve been following the story on other MMA websites — and I don’t know why you would be since we thought you were our bros — Fabricio Werdum was rumored to be headed back to the UFC, but then he sort of denied the rumors and sort of didn’t by saying he couldn’t talk about it. Well, “Vai Cavalo” may have let the cat out of the bag that he’s Octagon-bound today since he’s now calling out UFC heavyweight Brendan Schaub — an interesting choice for a guy who beat Fedor Emelianenko and went to a decision against Alistair Overeem in his past two bouts.
It’s worth noting that Schaub, who is coming off of a disappointing UFC 134 loss to Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira, put the seed in Werdum’s head. During a recent interview he did with ESPN about his inclusion in the next UFC Undisputed instalment, “The Hybrid” politely mentioned that Werdum is one of several guys he thinks fans would want to see him face.
“I was on a four fight winning streak with a big knockout over Mirko Cro Cop, and I wanted a challenge. I wanted to do something nobody else had done, and that’s fight Nogueira in Brazil. He’s considered one of the best heavyweights of all time and I knew it was going to be a challenge. It was definitely hostile out there and I that got me up for it, but I was a little too aggressive. He caught me with a good shot and my night was over from there. It was definitely the most disappointing loss of my career and it’s a tough one to swallow, but being a heavyweight in the UFC and at this world class level, you can’t make a mistake. I made a mistake and I paid for it. It’s part of the game. I’m a knockout artist, I’m not the type of guy who is going to go out there and ride out a decision, and I think that’s why I’m a fan favorite, but I learned my lesson that night. I’m already back in the gym working on some things, but where do you go after you’ve fought guys like Cro Cop and Nogueira? I think a match between me and Fabricio Werdum would be something the fans would be into. There are a number of good match-ups out there, but that’s the one that comes to mind right now.”
Strikeforce hosted the semifinal round of the heavyweight grand prix in Cincinnati on Saturday night and fight fans were treated with an exciting night of action.The event was headlined by Josh Barnett (31-5) and Sergei Kharitonov (18-5) to determine w…
Strikeforce hosted the semifinal round of the heavyweight grand prix in Cincinnati on Saturday night and fight fans were treated with an exciting night of action.
The event was headlined by Josh Barnett (31-5) and Sergei Kharitonov (18-5) to determine who would advance to the finals.
Kharitonov was no match for the far superior Barnett and with the victory, Barnett advances to the final round of the tournament and extends his win streak to nine that dates back to 2008.
Former Olympic wrestler Daniel Cormier (9-0) stepped in on short notice against Antonio “Bigfoot” Silva (16-3).
A huge four-punch combination by Cormier dropped Silva, and two devastating hammer fists later, the AKA-trained heavyweight finished the fight.
Barnett and Cormier were both impressive in claiming first-round victories and now face each other in the finals later this winter.
With that being said, we take a look at the fighters who don’t have their next fight set and determine the matchups that should be booked next.
So, if you’d like to hear why Strikeforce should be folded and merged to the UFC, read E. Spencer Kyte’s column on Heavy.com.
Filed under: UFCRIO DE JANEIRO — They don’t charge enough for beers at the HSBC Arena. I never thought I’d lodge that particular complaint against any venue, but as I watched the hailstorm of half-full plastic cups that came down from the rafters afte…
RIO DE JANEIRO — They don’t charge enough for beers at the HSBC Arena. I never thought I’d lodge that particular complaint against any venue, but as I watched the hailstorm of half-full plastic cups that came down from the rafters after Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira beat Brendan Schaub, I was forced to admit that there was at least one upside to gouging event-goers on beer prices.
In the USA, fight fans would never throw away that much beer. Not after they paid nine dollars for it.
The most confusing part about the beer-throwing that went on at UFC 134 was the timing of it. Instead of chucking their brews in angry protest, as American fans might, Brazilians did it in celebration. Seconds after Big Nog’s upset victory, the first cup hit the apron surrounding the Octagon.
Splash. The UFC’s ringside officials looked up with baffled expressions. What kind of jerk throws a beer when their guy wins? you could almost hear them thinking. Then came the rest of the cups, sailing down like confetti.
After Mauricio “Shogun” Rua‘s win, one Brazilian reporter on press row watched as a nearly full cup landed upside down directly on the keyboard of his laptop — an impressive throw, really, and one that taught the rest of us an important lesson. After Anderson Silva‘s victory, ESPN.com reporter Chuck Mindenhall and I both immediately closed our laptops and covered them with our bodies, just in time to feel the foam sprinkling the backs of our necks. Didn’t these people ever drink any of their beer? I wondered.
For the American media members, the event might as well have been dubbed UFC 134: Cultural Differences. We knew they did things differently in Brazil. We just didn’t know how differently.
It wasn’t just the fans either, who were more vocal and more passionate than any crowd I’ve ever seen at an American MMA event. The reporters had their own style as well.
In the U.S. it’s generally accepted that you don’t cheer from press row. In Brazil, it’s no big deal to give a standing ovation to your favorite fighters, to shout encouragement during their fight, or to begin your questions at the post-fight presser by saying, ‘You’ve always been one of my idols…”
For the foreign press, just getting into the building that night had been a struggle. Since the HSBC Arena is a good hour outside of Ipanema, where the host hotel was, the UFC was kind enough to offer us a shuttle to and from the venue. A little over an hour before the first fight the shuttle dropped us off behind the arena, leaving us to wander the perimeter of the building looking for a way in. No one wanted to tell us that they didn’t know where we were supposed to pick up our credentials, so instead they just pointed to the next open door and said, ‘There.’
As in, go bother someone else.
By the time we finally found the Zuffa Will Call sign we’d been instructed to look for, we immediately understood how we’d managed to miss it for so long. Not only was the sign about the size of the top of a pizza box, it was obscured by the thousands of fans milling about in a festive mood on the sidewalk out front. Behind metal bars, and through a window that was barely bigger than a peephole, we received our credentials. Then an armed gentleman in a suit escorted us inside, and any illusion that this would be just another night of work in the MMA media was fully erased.
By the time the first fight began at 7 p.m., there was hardly an empty seat in the joint. Any reporter who’s ever tried to interview Thiago Alves knows all about ‘Brazilian time,’ but apparently it doesn’t apply on fight night.
I guess if you tell a Brazilian to meet you for lunch at noon, he shows up at 12:45. If you tell him to meet you for a fight, he’s there ten minutes early, staring impatiently at his watch.
Ian Loveland had the distinction of being the first fighter to walk out among this madness, and the raucous reception must have surprised him. This might have been the one fight the fans cared least about, since it was the only one lacking a Brazilian fighter, and still they cheered louder than some crowds did at WEC title fights.
At one point during the Loveland-Jabouin fight, a chant started up that seem to really tickle the Brazilian reporter sitting next to me.
“It’s the name of a soccer player,” he told me when I asked what it was all about. “He’s black, like Jabouin.”
“That’s it?” I said. “No other similarities?”
“No,” he said. “They don’t even really look alike.”
The chants would prove to be almost as much a part of the show as the fights. From the simple (David Mitchell probably didn’t realize an arena full of people was calling him a son of a…well, you know) to the unsettling (‘You’re going to die,’ set to the tune of ‘Whoomp! There It is,’ which was supposedly an even bigger hit in Brazil than in the U.S.), the Brazilian fans were never at a loss for words.
When they weren’t singing or chanting, they were doing the wave or else shouting along in unison with Bruce Buffer’s announcer schtick (sidenote: when a crowd knows every word of Buffer’s routine, even if they don’t speak English, you know they’re hardcore fans).
You wonder how much that kind of frenetic crowd support can really help a fighter, or hurt his opponent. It’s not like football, where crowd noise can directly contribute to penalties, so who cares if the fans are cheering for the other guy? At the same time, when Ross Pearson would tag Edson Barboza with a solid kick, the fans acted as if nothing had happened. When Barboza landed a glancing blow, they roared. Maybe that didn’t affect the judges’ decision, but in a fight that close it couldn’t have helped Pearson any.
The lone disappointment on the night for the Brazilian crowd was Luiz Cane‘s knockout loss to Bulgarian light heavyweight Stanislav Nedkov. At first they were stunned into a brief silence, then they booed, as if Nedkov had cheated somehow or else simply failed to follow the script. Then they apparently felt bad about booing, so they clapped politely. Not one to accept polite gestures gladly, Nedkov taunted them by putting his hand to his ear, Hulk Hogan-style, and the boos made an instant comeback.
If I was the beer-throwing type, here’s where I might have most tempted. But no. The Brazilians were apparently saving their cups for Nogueira’s win, which seemed to both surprise and exhilarate the entire arena.
For Nogueira, the party was just beginning. For Schaub, who made his way out of the cage sporting an eye that was already changing colors and an expression that seemed more confused than upset, the realization was just setting in.
Watching a losing fighter make his way past press row and back toward the locker rooms is always a touchingly sad moment, and so it was with Schaub. Just a few minutes earlier he had strutted into the cage like a giant, chest out and chin up in calm defiance. In defeat he seems to shrink inside of himself. You can almost see him looking for a way to disappear into the floor, to become invisible so that he might be alone with his own pain and disappointment for a little while.
Instead he has to make that long walk, where exuberant Brazilians gesture madly at him and shout in a language he doesn’t understand.
Suddenly it all seems like such an obviously bad idea. What was he thinking, coming to Rio to fight a Brazilian? Didn’t he know that this nightmare of a walk was waiting for him? Didn’t he know that they had come to celebrate his suffering, to baptize their heroes with beer, to sing him out of the arena with incomprehensible songs he would never hear again and would never forget?
Read Part I and Part II of Ben Fowlkes’ Postcards from Rio.
UFC 134 in Rio de Janeiro was a memorable night for several reasons, not the least of which was the complete dominance of the Brazilian contingent on the card.
You could look at the match-ups beforehand and tell they were perhaps slightly titled in Brazil’s favor, but who among us really thought Stanislav Nedkov would be the only foreigner to defeat a Brazilian?
But now that the action’s over and the post-fight interviews are done, it’s time to sort through the aftermath to find UFC 134’s biggest winners, losers, and everything in between. Won’t you join me?
Biggest Winner: Anderson Silva
It’s clear to me now that this man has something different in his brain. The same way an owl can triangulate the exact location of a squeaking field mouse in the dark, Silva can perform a minute’s worth of feints and look at where you reflexively move your head and hands and feet, and from there decide exactly how to separate you from your conciousness. To put it another way, he’s on some next level stuff out there. Normal human beings, no matter how much they practice, can’t do that. It seems to come so naturally to Silva that he appears at times incapable of appreciating how rare his violent gifts are. Fortunately, he has the rest of us to tell him, and accomplished, though helpless opponents like Okami to show him.
Biggest Loser: Brendan Schaub
Not only was he the biggest betting favorite who ended up on the losing end in Rio, he was also the USA’s best hope for a win on the night. We expected David Mitchell and even Dan Miller to get beat, but Schaub? He was supposed to be the next big heavyweight prospect, and maybe even the lone American to come back to the Northen Hemisphere with a victory stowed in his carry-on. He couldn’t get his head out of the way of Nogueira’s punches, however, so he ended up face down on the mat instead of hands raised on top of the cage. He’s still young and still growing as a fighter, so it’s not a major catastrophe, career-wise. At the same time, getting knocked out by an aging legend who seemed one or two defeats away from forced retirement is the kind of thing that’ll hit the pause button on your superstar plans with a quickness. The hype train hasn’t derailed, but it is always harder to get it started up again once it’s come to such a sudden stop.
Most Impressive in Defeat: Ross Pearson
That was a painfully close fight, and if it’s anywhere but Brazil, where even a glancing blow by a Brazilian brings the crowd to its feet, maybe he gets the decision. Even without it, he did better than many (myself included) expected him to, and proved his toughness beyond a reasonable doubt. Pearson may not be the best pure athlete in the lightweight class, but the man will keep walking you down and forcing you to fight him. Does that style have its limitations? Sure it does. Is it a whole lot of fun to watch, especially when the practitioner of such a style can take a shot as well as Pearson can? Definitely. I don’t see the hard-headed Brit becoming champion any time soon, but every division needs role-players as well as greats. If Pearson’s role is to put on exciting, gritty fights, at least it’s steady work.
Least Impressive in Victory: Thiago Tavares
His plan seemed to be to control Spencer Fisher on the mat and grind the pace down to such a yawn-worthy crawl that his opponent would eventually do something dumb just to try and force some action. Somewhat disappointingly, it worked. It’s not that Tavares didn’t deserve to win — he effectively dictated where and how the fight was contested, so that’s something — but he has to know that he won’t win many fans with takedowns and short, ineffectual punches on the mat. In a night of memorable Brazilian triumphs, his win was among the most forgettable. At least it’s better than losing.
Most Strangely Sympathetic: Forrest Griffin
Yes, he’s a grumpy young man. And no, he does not travel well. But honestly, once you see that sadsack look on his face and consider the fact that he’ll probably never be able to think about his daughter’s birth without also thinking about the night he got knocked out by “Shogun” Rua in Rio, you have to feel for the guy. What I wonder is whether the pursuit of cold hard cash alone is enough to sustain him in this business. He used to be a workhorse in the gym, the guy who told the new crop of TUF hopefuls that “the juice is worth is the squeeze.” These days he doesn’t act like he really believes it. It’s one thing to hate your job and do it anyway if you work at a kiosk in the mall selling cell phone accessories. When you fight for money, however, there are too many hungry young mercenaries out there for you to be going through the motions just for a paycheck. Griffin needs to decide whether he’s all the way in this sport. If not, he ought to get out.
Most Surprising: Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira
The walk to the cage was the most many of us had seen Big Nog move all week, so it was hard not to analyze every step for what it might tell us about his post-surgery mobility. He wasn’t exactly fleet of foot once the fight started, but then he was never known for his foot speed even in his prime. It seemed as though Nogueira’s plan A was to take Schaub down, but when that went nowhere he quickly resported to plan B: punch the guy in the face until he falls down. Before the fight, I would have said this was a terrible idea. Then he tried it and found Schaub was not all that difficult to hit. I might tap the brakes on the whole ‘Nogueira is back!’ meme that instantly sprouted up after the win, but at least this proves he’s not done. Not just yet, anyway.
Most Baffling: Rousimar Palhares
That’s two bizarre mental lapses in three tries for “Toquinho.” At least this one didn’t cost him the fight. I loved how Herb Dean reacted to Palhares’ premature celebration by looking at Dan Miller like he was a loose ball in a football game, just waiting to be noticed and scooped up. I admit I was a little curious to see what Miller would have done to Palhares had he been allowed to attack as Palhares straddled the top of the cage, flexing for the crowd, but I guess that was the rational point for Dean to pause the action and sort out the confusion. Palhares is obviously talented and has a lot of physical tools at his disposal, but somebody needs to teach this guy to fight until the referee tells him it’s over. There are too many ways to lose in MMA without creating new ones for yourself.
Most Unhelpfully Brief Cage Appearance: Mauricio “Shogun” Rua
I’m sure he doesn’t mind winning inside of two minutes, but I sure would have liked to have seen a little more of him. It’s hard to know where his overall game is at when all his fight lasts about as long as it takes to microwave a Hot Pocket. Rua has always had that explosive power, particularly early in the fight. What people rightfully wonder about is his conditioning over the long haul. Saturday night’s fight didn’t give us a chance to find out anything about that, but hey, you can’t really complain about a first-round knockout. You also can’t say that you learned all that much about a fighter’s overall game that way.
Least Potent Offense: Yushin Okami
Aside from a clinch and a couple pawing right hands, Okami didn’t manage too many attempts at hurting Silva, which I thought was kind of supposed to be the goal. Then again, when you consider what happened on the few occasions when he did try to go on the attack, it’s hard to blame him. It seems like no matter what you do to Silva, whether it’s tossing out a jab or shooting for a takedown, you’re only giving him more information about how best to defeat you. Still, if you’re going to step in the cage and fight him, you have to fight him. The more time you spend standing around and letting him figure you out, the worse it’s going to be. As for Okami, he seemed defeated by the time he got off the stool for the second round. Again, hard to blame him. Just because he failed to figure out a fighting genius in the span of a few minutes, that doesn’t mean he’s not still a gifted fighter in his own right. It’s just that, especially in this business, the space between very good and great is so painfully vast.
UFC 134 in Rio de Janeiro was a memorable night for several reasons, not the least of which was the complete dominance of the Brazilian contingent on the card.
You could look at the match-ups beforehand and tell they were perhaps slightly titled in Brazil’s favor, but who among us really thought Stanislav Nedkov would be the only foreigner to defeat a Brazilian?
But now that the action’s over and the post-fight interviews are done, it’s time to sort through the aftermath to find UFC 134’s biggest winners, losers, and everything in between. Won’t you join me?
Biggest Winner: Anderson Silva
It’s clear to me now that this man has something different in his brain. The same way an owl can triangulate the exact location of a squeaking field mouse in the dark, Silva can perform a minute’s worth of feints and look at where you reflexively move your head and hands and feet, and from there decide exactly how to separate you from your conciousness. To put it another way, he’s on some next level stuff out there. Normal human beings, no matter how much they practice, can’t do that. It seems to come so naturally to Silva that he appears at times incapable of appreciating how rare his violent gifts are. Fortunately, he has the rest of us to tell him, and accomplished, though helpless opponents like Okami to show him.
Biggest Loser: Brendan Schaub
Not only was he the biggest betting favorite who ended up on the losing end in Rio, he was also the USA’s best hope for a win on the night. We expected David Mitchell and even Dan Miller to get beat, but Schaub? He was supposed to be the next big heavyweight prospect, and maybe even the lone American to come back to the Northen Hemisphere with a victory stowed in his carry-on. He couldn’t get his head out of the way of Nogueira’s punches, however, so he ended up face down on the mat instead of hands raised on top of the cage. He’s still young and still growing as a fighter, so it’s not a major catastrophe, career-wise. At the same time, getting knocked out by an aging legend who seemed one or two defeats away from forced retirement is the kind of thing that’ll hit the pause button on your superstar plans with a quickness. The hype train hasn’t derailed, but it is always harder to get it started up again once it’s come to such a sudden stop.
Most Impressive in Defeat: Ross Pearson
That was a painfully close fight, and if it’s anywhere but Brazil, where even a glancing blow by a Brazilian brings the crowd to its feet, maybe he gets the decision. Even without it, he did better than many (myself included) expected him to, and proved his toughness beyond a reasonable doubt. Pearson may not be the best pure athlete in the lightweight class, but the man will keep walking you down and forcing you to fight him. Does that style have its limitations? Sure it does. Is it a whole lot of fun to watch, especially when the practitioner of such a style can take a shot as well as Pearson can? Definitely. I don’t see the hard-headed Brit becoming champion any time soon, but every division needs role-players as well as greats. If Pearson’s role is to put on exciting, gritty fights, at least it’s steady work.
Least Impressive in Victory: Thiago Tavares
His plan seemed to be to control Spencer Fisher on the mat and grind the pace down to such a yawn-worthy crawl that his opponent would eventually do something dumb just to try and force some action. Somewhat disappointingly, it worked. It’s not that Tavares didn’t deserve to win — he effectively dictated where and how the fight was contested, so that’s something — but he has to know that he won’t win many fans with takedowns and short, ineffectual punches on the mat. In a night of memorable Brazilian triumphs, his win was among the most forgettable. At least it’s better than losing.
Most Strangely Sympathetic: Forrest Griffin
Yes, he’s a grumpy young man. And no, he does not travel well. But honestly, once you see that sadsack look on his face and consider the fact that he’ll probably never be able to think about his daughter’s birth without also thinking about the night he got knocked out by “Shogun” Rua in Rio, you have to feel for the guy. What I wonder is whether the pursuit of cold hard cash alone is enough to sustain him in this business. He used to be a workhorse in the gym, the guy who told the new crop of TUF hopefuls that “the juice is worth is the squeeze.” These days he doesn’t act like he really believes it. It’s one thing to hate your job and do it anyway if you work at a kiosk in the mall selling cell phone accessories. When you fight for money, however, there are too many hungry young mercenaries out there for you to be going through the motions just for a paycheck. Griffin needs to decide whether he’s all the way in this sport. If not, he ought to get out.
Most Surprising: Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira
The walk to the cage was the most many of us had seen Big Nog move all week, so it was hard not to analyze every step for what it might tell us about his post-surgery mobility. He wasn’t exactly fleet of foot once the fight started, but then he was never known for his foot speed even in his prime. It seemed as though Nogueira’s plan A was to take Schaub down, but when that went nowhere he quickly resported to plan B: punch the guy in the face until he falls down. Before the fight, I would have said this was a terrible idea. Then he tried it and found Schaub was not all that difficult to hit. I might tap the brakes on the whole ‘Nogueira is back!’ meme that instantly sprouted up after the win, but at least this proves he’s not done. Not just yet, anyway.
Most Baffling: Rousimar Palhares
That’s two bizarre mental lapses in three tries for “Toquinho.” At least this one didn’t cost him the fight. I loved how Herb Dean reacted to Palhares’ premature celebration by looking at Dan Miller like he was a loose ball in a football game, just waiting to be noticed and scooped up. I admit I was a little curious to see what Miller would have done to Palhares had he been allowed to attack as Palhares straddled the top of the cage, flexing for the crowd, but I guess that was the rational point for Dean to pause the action and sort out the confusion. Palhares is obviously talented and has a lot of physical tools at his disposal, but somebody needs to teach this guy to fight until the referee tells him it’s over. There are too many ways to lose in MMA without creating new ones for yourself.
Most Unhelpfully Brief Cage Appearance: Mauricio “Shogun” Rua
I’m sure he doesn’t mind winning inside of two minutes, but I sure would have liked to have seen a little more of him. It’s hard to know where his overall game is at when all his fight lasts about as long as it takes to microwave a Hot Pocket. Rua has always had that explosive power, particularly early in the fight. What people rightfully wonder about is his conditioning over the long haul. Saturday night’s fight didn’t give us a chance to find out anything about that, but hey, you can’t really complain about a first-round knockout. You also can’t say that you learned all that much about a fighter’s overall game that way.
Least Potent Offense: Yushin Okami
Aside from a clinch and a couple pawing right hands, Okami didn’t manage too many attempts at hurting Silva, which I thought was kind of supposed to be the goal. Then again, when you consider what happened on the few occasions when he did try to go on the attack, it’s hard to blame him. It seems like no matter what you do to Silva, whether it’s tossing out a jab or shooting for a takedown, you’re only giving him more information about how best to defeat you. Still, if you’re going to step in the cage and fight him, you have to fight him. The more time you spend standing around and letting him figure you out, the worse it’s going to be. As for Okami, he seemed defeated by the time he got off the stool for the second round. Again, hard to blame him. Just because he failed to figure out a fighting genius in the span of a few minutes, that doesn’t mean he’s not still a gifted fighter in his own right. It’s just that, especially in this business, the space between very good and great is so painfully vast.
Filed under: UFCRIO DE JANEIRO — Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira wanted to fight in front of his countrymen so badly, he admitted to rushing a complex rehab process just to be ready in time for the Rio fight card.
RIO DE JANEIRO — Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira wanted to fight in front of his countrymen so badly, he admitted to rushing a complex rehab process just to be ready in time for the Rio fight card.
But as he made his way to the cage to take on Brendan Schaub at UFC 134, even the veteran of 40 professional fights was a little overwhelmed by the frenzied reaction from the Brazilian crowd.
“When I was walking to the ring I was super nervous,” he admitted with a sheepish smile at the post-fight press conference. “I couldn’t really look up to the crowd.”
A little over three minutes after the fight had started, when Nogueira’s bigger, younger American opponent was lying face first on the mat, that’s when the MMA legend finally took a moment to let it all sink in.
“It was only after I had finished the fight that I looked up to the crowd and saw how much noise was being made,” he said through an interpreter at the post-fight press conference.
Of course, as he looked up, he might have also seen the celebratory beers flying in from the overjoyed audience members, who apparently loved seeing Nogueira win more than they enjoyed finishing their drinks.
UFC president Dana White said UFC officals “get a little freaked out” when fans start throwing nearly full drinks into the cage, but he also said that the stakes may have been higher on Saturday than even Nogueira fully realized.
“I talked to Nogueira after his last fight and was talking to him about retiring,” White said. “And, you know, he was pretty pissed off about that. That’s why when I came out and I was talking about Tito [Ortiz] and Tito won that fight, Nogueira was one of the guys who jumped on his side saying, listen, you don’t make those [expletive] decisions — we do. That’s not really true, I do make those decisions.”
Nogueira might not have wanted to hear it, but after he get knocked out by Cain Velasquez in the first round at UFC 110, White had started to consider whether it might be time for him to hang up the gloves.
But, to his credit, Nogueira went through three surgeries on his hips and knees, built himself back up through an ardous rehab, and came back in surprisingly good condition to out-strike Schaub in front of his home crowd.
It was a long road to get there, and a rocky one at times, according to his wrestling coach, Eric Albarracin.
“I see him in the gym,” Albarracin said before the fight. “We have to stretch him a lot before and after. He’s got a physical therapist who’s always there. She’s on call 24/7.”
It paid off on Saturday, as Nogueira — one of the few Brazilian underdogs on the card — scored a shocking knockout in the opening frame. When asked how far the win might have put him from being in title contention, and how many fights he’d have to win to get back in that conversation, White said it wasn’t simply how many, “it’s who” Nogueira beats.
Regardless of what he says in his own defense, White insisted, he’s not about to sit around and watch Nogueira, or any other fighter, go on too long and risk his own health.
“I’m not going to let this thing be boxing,” said White. “When a guy is done, we know he’s done. I don’t want to make one dollar of that kind of money. “
Filed under: UFCRIO DE JANEIRO — I don’t care what a Fast and the Furious movie tells you, there’s no way you could drag a bank safe through the streets of Rio behind a stolen car. Forget the police, the traffic simply wouldn’t allow it.
RIO DE JANEIRO — I don’t care what a Fast and the Furious movie tells you, there’s no way you could drag a bank safe through the streets of Rio behind a stolen car. Forget the police, the traffic simply wouldn’t allow it.
You could inch it along, maybe. You could pull it through an intersection as the city’s many motorcyclists swerved at suicidal angles around you. You could behave like every other driver in Rio and treat those dotted lines on the pavement as mere suggestions. But the fact is, you’re not going anywhere at any sustained speed.
I came to terms with this during a nighttime ride to Tijuquinha with Brendan Schaub and his entourage. Schaub had been there before, when he was here for a press conference in June, and he promised to bring the kids some gear to train in when he returned for the fight.
As he headed back to fulfill his promise, he knew what to expect. I didn’t.
When I heard the word ‘favela’ associated with Tijuquinha, immediately images of lawless shanty towns filled my mind. When I heard we’d be going at night, I started to question the wisdom of the whole operation. Surely, I reasoned, the UFC wouldn’t let anything happen to Schaub two days before the fight. I decided I’d stick close to him. That is, if we ever made it through the traffic.
Fortunately, I had good travel companions. The man in the backseat next to me was Bony Monteiro. You know those Bony Acai hats you see Brazilian fighters wearing? That’s him. He owns Bony Acai, which means he’s currently doing his best to spread the gospel of the acai berry — a ubiquitous ingredient in Brazil, used in everything from juice to milkshakes, and also eaten in great heaping bowls that my colleague Ariel Helwani became instantly addicted to when we arrived.
“You’ll never get the flu again,” Bony told me when I inquired after acai’s rumored health benefits. “My kids, they don’t even know what the flu is.”
Bony, who hails from Belem, in northern Brazil, turned out to be a great resource to answer all my questions about Rio. Was it true that Brazil worked so Rio could play? “They know how to have fun here,” he replied. Was it true that cariocas almost never moved out of Rio? “Why would you move?” he said. “Great food, beautiful women, even someone in the favela, if he is angry, he can go to the beach and relax. If they could fix the crime, it would be paradise.”
When you’re an American headed to Rio, everybody back home warns you about the crime. They’d have you believe that you can’t walk out of your hotel without being held up and possibly kidnapped. When I told my dad I was coming here, he started forwarding me news stories of foreigners killed or accosted in other South American countries, as if they were all interchangeable when it came to violent crime.
“In Rio, it’s small crime,” Bony told me. “They take your watch, take your bag. In Sao Paulo, it’s big crime. Organized crime. You understand?”
This was one of Bony’s trademark phrases — you understand? — and he used it often in conversation, as if afraid I might be just nodding my head and pretending (something I have absolutely done at least a couple times during this trip). The phrase proved to be the perfect calling card to remind you of his patience and his willingness to explain. He also apologized for his English several times, despite the fact the he spoke the language fluently and eloquently. Nothing could have made me feel worse about speaking zero Portuguese.
Bony was along as one of Schaub’s main sponsors. Thanks to him, as well as to Ecko and RevGear — also Schaub sponsors — the van ahead of us was loaded with bags full of free stuff for the Muay Thai school in the favela.
Only once we arrived I saw that this wasn’t really a favela. Not like the ones you hear about, anyway. Those, Bony explained to me, were communities carved illegally out of forest land, which is essentially what all Rio would be if not for human development. That aspect of the land is evident everywhere you look. The Rio skyline is dotted with hills and mountains that rise sharply in steep lumps, covered in lush green foliage and, often, the thrown-together dwellings of the favelas.
In America, the neighborhoods usually get more affluent as you head up the hills. In Rio, the hills are often favela territory. As a result of the sudden deforestation that accompanies them, and the steep angle they’re built at, mudslides frequently bring them sliding back down. People die. What few possessions they have are lost. Tragedy on an almost regularly scheduled time table.
Then the whole process of building and expansion starts all over again.
And yet, few people in Rio seem inclined to do anything about the favelas. It’s an unfortunate situation for everyone, they shrug, but what can you do? It is, in its own way, the most libertarian of all approaches. A very small percentage of Brazil’s land is considered protected, so people carve out a life for themselves, pirate some electricity, and soon a village of urban refugees becomes its own community.
“In Brazil, we don’t have the problem of racism, like you have,” Bony explained to me. “People don’t care what color your skin is. They just care about rich or poor.”
As affluent, tourist-friendly Ipanema gives way to the outlying neighborhoods on the route to Tijuquinha, the distinction between rich and poor becomes clearer. Dimly lit streets. Handwritten signs advertising business and churches. You can feel the damp heaviness of the forest close around you, and hear the dull beat of the insects in the dark. But as we pull up a back alley and park next to the concrete basketball court where the Tropa Thai classes are held, it’s clear that this is no shanty town.
“The people here wouldn’t say that they live in a favela,” said Dennis Asche of Connection Rio, who helped to link Schaub up with Eduardo Pachu, who’s been operating the Tropa Thai classes for over ten years, bringing free martial arts training to the favelas. “It’s just a poor community. They don’t have much, but they still have a community.”
Classes were already in session on the well-lit basketball court as we made our way inside. Around forty kids, from toddlers up through teenagers, were gathered in rows wearing grimy hand wraps. The hand wraps and the white t-shirts from the city of Rio, which has only recently started to get behind the program, were all they had to train in. Once they saw the two huge duffel bags that Schaub and his wrestling coach, Leister Bowling, plopped down on the court, they must have known that was about to change.
First though, it was practice time. They did punch drills. They did push-ups and crunches. I watched as two little girls took turns jumping over one another, the sound of their bare feet thudding against the pavement as they landed. The skill levels ranged from surprisingly good to seriously uncoordinated, but that was hardly the point, Asche explained.
“Instead of selling drugs or getting into something negative, they fight,” he said. “They come here and train.”
With Schaub’s visit they also got a chance to learn that, when they were involved in some positive pursuit like sports, people took notice. People helped. Even if those people came from far away and didn’t understand a word of what they were saying.
That part became evident when the gear came out and got passed around. Boxing gloves, shin pads, thai pads, focus mitts — piles and piles of them, donated by the sponsors. Schaub walked over and handed a pair of boxing gloves to a little boy who couldn’t have been older than six or seven. He held them in his hands, looking from one to the other, but apparently having no idea what to do with them.
“Here,” Schaub said, holding the glove open for him. “Push your hand down in there.”
The kid stared. Schaub mimed the act for him. Nothing.
After a couple days in Rio, I knew how both Schaub and the kid felt. When you don’t speak the same language, suddenly we’re all just cavemen performing hand gestures that seem perfectly clear to us, but mean nothing to anyone else.
Thankfully, one of the bilingual Brazilians with us came to the rescue. Soon the kid had his hands inside the gloves, and within minutes the court filled with the unmistakable cracking of gloves against pads. Tropa Thai was no longer a basketball court where kids shadow-boxed in old handwraps. Now it was a true training ground.
Then it was time for Schaub, this enormous, mysterious foreigner who had showed up one night like Santa Claus with cauliflower ear, bearing free gifts, to get back in his van and go.
He had a fight to think about, after all. A chance to show up at the HSBC Arena and get booed by all the people who either didn’t know or didn’t care about tonight’s charity, who would rise to the their feet at the weigh-ins the following afternoon and shout “vai morrer” — you’re going to die — as he smiled and flexed in the same Bony Acai cap he’s been wearing since he got here (just one more reason Bony loves him).
But then, he knows to expect that. He is fighting a Brazilian hero, and this is a country that holds its heroes close.
“We need more heroes who are not just soccer players,” Bony told me on the ride home, again picking our way through the traffic. “Now, it’s starting to happen. Fighters are becoming our heroes.”
It’s happening, but slowly. The same way you get anywhere in this city.
RIO DE JANEIRO — They don’t charge enough for beers at the HSBC Arena. I never thought I’d lodge that particular complaint against any venue, but as I watched the hailstorm of half-full plastic cups that came down from the rafters after 
By the time we finally found the Zuffa Will Call sign we’d been instructed to look for, we immediately understood how we’d managed to miss it for so long. Not only was the sign about the size of the top of a pizza box, it was obscured by the thousands of fans milling about in a festive mood on the sidewalk out front. Behind metal bars, and through a window that was barely bigger than a peephole, we received our credentials. Then an armed gentleman in a suit escorted us inside, and any illusion that this would be just another night of work in the MMA media was fully erased.
The lone disappointment on the night for the Brazilian crowd was 
RIO DE JANEIRO — 
RIO DE JANEIRO — I don’t care what a Fast and the Furious movie tells you, there’s no way you could drag a bank safe through the streets of Rio behind a stolen car. Forget the police, the traffic simply wouldn’t allow it.
Only once we arrived I saw that this wasn’t really a favela. Not like the ones you hear about, anyway. Those, Bony explained to me, were communities carved illegally out of forest land, which is essentially what all Rio would be if not for human development. That aspect of the land is evident everywhere you look. The Rio skyline is dotted with hills and mountains that rise sharply in steep lumps, covered in lush green foliage and, often, the thrown-together dwellings of the favelas. 
“Instead of selling drugs or getting into something negative, they fight,” he said. “They come here and train.”
Then it was time for Schaub, this enormous, mysterious foreigner who had showed up one night like Santa Claus with cauliflower ear, bearing free gifts, to get back in his van and go.