Tag: CagePotato Roundtable

CagePotato Roundtable #4: What Was the Greatest Rivalry in MMA History?

We have a very, very special guest on this week’s installment of the CagePotato Roundtable: UFC light-heavyweight legend Stephan Bonnar, who has agreed to join the CP gang for a spirited debate on the most epic rivalries in MMA history — something he knows a thing or two about first-hand. Follow Stephan on Twitter @stephanbonnar, buy some of his t-shirts at PunchBuddies.com, and if you have a suggestion for a future Roundtable topic, please send it to [email protected]. Now then…

Stephan Bonnar

I’m here to talk about MMA’s most intense rivalries. Catering to the casual fight fan first, I’ll start with the most obvious one. (I know it’s not fair to you hardcore fans, but no one cares about you. We know that you will tune in no matter what. I still appreciate you, you obsessed lunatics, so just stay tuned.)

Chael Sonnen vs Anderson Silva. Chael recently received his PHD in the art of trash talking (TT), and was also the valedictorian of his class. He took TT to new heights. His words ripped not only through his adversaries intestines, but the intestines of his counterpart’s entire country. Trust me though, this brilliant TT’er has an outrageous yet adept plan to convert the hate of some of those countrymen to love and acceptance. Yes, I have inside info…but no, I won’t spoil Chael’s next scheme. Take it from me, “You’ll see what’s up Chael’s sleeve!”

If Chael was valedictorian of his class, then Anderson was the class buffoon. Anderson’s knowledge of the English language quickly evaporates when it’s his turn to retort to some of Chael’s verbal onslaught. This rivalry has had the most one-sided trashtalking in the history of the sport. When it comes to slanging rhetoric, is Anderson worse than Joe Frazier was against the great Ali? I’d enthusiastically say so. I’d also have to say that Chael would be able to hang with “The Greatest” when it came to sparring with verbs. Even in his native tongue, Anderson fails to even so much as hold Chael’s jock strap. Landslide victory for Chael in this event. And for those of you that say talking trash doesn’t do shit, I beg to differ. It has increased my anxiousness ten fold in anticipation of seeing this “rivalry” settled with extreme violence.

We have a very, very special guest on this week’s installment of the CagePotato Roundtable: UFC light-heavyweight legend Stephan Bonnar, who has agreed to join the CP gang for a spirited debate on the most epic rivalries in MMA history — something he knows a thing or two about first-hand. Follow Stephan on Twitter @stephanbonnar, buy some of his t-shirts at PunchBuddies.com, and if you have a suggestion for a future Roundtable topic, please send it to [email protected]. Now then…

Stephan Bonnar

I’m here to talk about MMA’s most intense rivalries. Catering to the casual fight fan first, I’ll start with the most obvious one. (I know it’s not fair to you hardcore fans, but no one cares about you. We know that you will tune in no matter what. I still appreciate you, you obsessed lunatics, so just stay tuned.)

Chael Sonnen vs Anderson Silva. Chael recently received his PHD in the art of trash talking (TT), and was also the valedictorian of his class. He took TT to new heights. His words ripped not only through his adversaries intestines, but the intestines of his counterpart’s entire country. Trust me though, this brilliant TT’er has an outrageous yet adept plan to convert the hate of some of those countrymen to love and acceptance. Yes, I have inside info…but no, I won’t spoil Chael’s next scheme. Take it from me, “You’ll see what’s up Chael’s sleeve!”

If Chael was valedictorian of his class, then Anderson was the class buffoon. Anderson’s knowledge of the English language quickly evaporates when it’s his turn to retort to some of Chael’s verbal onslaught. This rivalry has had the most one-sided trashtalking in the history of the sport. When it comes to slanging rhetoric, is Anderson worse than Joe Frazier was against the great Ali? I’d enthusiastically say so. I’d also have to say that Chael would be able to hang with “The Greatest” when it came to sparring with verbs. Even in his native tongue, Anderson fails to even so much as hold Chael’s jock strap. Landslide victory for Chael in this event. And for those of you that say talking trash doesn’t do shit, I beg to differ. It has increased my anxiousness ten fold in anticipation of seeing this “rivalry” settled with extreme violence.

Ok, you hardcore fans. Your time has come. The next rivalry? Tom Atencio vs Dana White. Even though the “Affliction” fight league sunk, the animosity between Affliction CEO Tom Atencio and Dana White managed to stay afloat. To fill you in, Tom Atencio lobbied for an MMA fight with UFC pres Dana White, and some decent TT’ing between the two had been exchanged as well. To be honest with you, I WOULD PAY fifty bucks easily to see this scrap. It is a very interesting match-up. For those of you that don’t know, Atencio has MMA experience. Style wise, I see this fight being a carbon copy of Cung Le vs Wanderlei Silva. With his Muay Thai background, Atencio would be launching a kick-heavy attack to Dana’s legs and body to slow him down and set him up for the kill. In Wanderlei-like ferocity, Dana would be plunging forward with his heavy hands and crisp boxing, relentlessly trying to find the chin of Atencio. Just like with Le vs Silva, Dana would eventually land and land big, sending Atencio into stage 4 R.E.M. sleep with his favorite hook-straight, hook-straight combo. Tito sitting cage side will have just exhaled a big sigh of relief, knowing that he made the right choice in pulling out of his fight with Dana. After all, it is no secret that when it came to boxing, Dana used to give Tito a working over in the gym.

The co-main-event on this card, would feature a relatively new & exciting rivalry: Me vs Donald Jr. and Eric Trump. The interesting handicap in this fight, is that even though I am fighting both of these pussies at the same time, I am only allowed to use one weapon in the entire arsenal of techniques in mixed martial arts….my jab! For a look at how this beef got started, click here on the link under Trump proudly holding up a dead elephants tail.

Jared Jones

Before the rest of you chime in with your opinions, let me just tell you that they’re all wrong. Don’t believe me? Ask yourself this: Has any other rivalry in MMA ever been waged against an entire family? Has any other rivalry been the basis for the fighter’s nickname? Has any other rivalry ever included a war of attrition so grandiose in scope, so insane in nature, that it rivaled, no, surpassed the Battle of Thermopylae?

Kazushi Sakuraba vs. The Gracies did.

Simply put, no rivalry will ever be greater than Sakuraba vs. the Gracie family because no one will ever mean as much to MMA as Sakuraba and the Gracie family. Try and argue this point. I dare you. Though their war has been only existed on paper a mere 12 years, every true fan of MMA, or ancient world history for that matter, knows that it dates back much further than that. To feudal times…725 B.C. to be exact. But that story is for another time; the point is that the Gracies created the fucking game, and Sakuraba managed to beat them at it. All of them.*

When Saku defeated Royler Gracie at PRIDE 8, by technical submission nonetheless, the MMA world nearly lost its damn mind. The Gracies were the Gods of the sport, and watching one of them go down was equivalent to watching God die before our very eyes. No, I’m not being dramatic, it was truly that disorienting. And since the Gracie family is closer than your average human centipede, they understood that from that day forth they would have to regain their family’s honor or die trying. And who understands the trappings of honor better than a descendant of the noble Sakuraba Dynasty? His fight at the PRIDE Grand Prix 2000 Finals, against perhaps the most famous Gracie of all in Royce, is one of those moments in life that words fall short of describing. It was a 90-minute war. That’s an hour and a half for you dyscalculiacs out there. Sakuraba made Royce quit on the stool after the sixth 15-minute round, and earned the nickname “The Gracie Hunter.” Not only was God dead, but the Devil had raped his corpse and stolen his identity.

Sakuraba then squared off against Renzo Gracie at PRIDE 10, and not only did he win that fight as well, he won in in the exact same fashion as he had the Royler Gracie fight, by snapping his arm like a chicken’s neck. After the fight, Renzo declared that Sakuraba was like, “the Japanese version of the Gracie family.” Not only was God dead, and not only had the Devil raped his corpse, but the Devil had then brought God back to life for just long enough to watch his family beg for their lives. Defeating Ryan Gracie was just the blood icing on the brimstone cake. Sakuraba had nothing left to prove; he had
already claimed his place in the MMA world as the man who killed God.

And that’s why I worship the Devil.

* I do not consider Sakuaraba’s losses to Royce and Ralek legitimate losses. The loss to Royce in their 2007 rematch does not count for obvious reasons, and the man fighting against Ralek was not Kazushi Sakuraba. We all know the real Kazushi Sakuraba died fighting Hedorah back in 2006 after Godzilla had failed.

Ben Goldstein

Once upon a time, there was a big silverback gorilla who ruled over a patch of land deep in the forest. He came from far away, and had taken power by bullying the natives. After a while, it became accepted that this silverback would be the Alpha until he grew old or left the forest. Challenging him was considered a suicidal act.

One day, a new male gorilla arrived. He had also come from far away, and didn’t respect the order of things. He huffed and puffed near the silverback’s patch of land. He groped the silverback’s females. And one day, he walked straight into the silverback’s territory and loudly jabbered a challenge in front of everybody. The silverback puffed his chest in alpha-like fashion, and destroyed his beta-male challenger via first-round TKO; such is the way of the forest.

Except this rival was different from the others that came before him. Instead of cowering away and humbly accepting his second-class status, he licked his wounds and waited. He waited an entire year, and when he felt strong enough he challenged the silverback again. The silverback, offended at the young challenger’s brazenness, dished out the worst beating that the forest had ever seen. “Did he died?“, wondered a nearby gazelle.

The beta-male challenger, who we’ll call “Q” from now on, survived the beating and left the silverback’s territory, but vowed to have his revenge, someday, one way or the other. Q traveled the jungles and savannahs until he came upon an eight-sided field ruled by an aging alpha named Chuck, who Q had dominated in the past. The timing was perfect. Q deposed him, but the field was a shark tank, full of contenders who could be champ on any given day, and Q’s reign didn’t last long. Still, it wasn’t a bad place to live if you were a gorilla, and Q decided to remain there.

One day, he saw his old friend the silverback lumbering into the eight-sided field. The scars near the silverback’s eyes suggested he had been forced out of his old land. He was past his prime, no longer worth fearing. Q approached him. “Remember me, motherfucker?” Q said. The silverback squinted. It took a minute for him to make the connection — there had been so many rivals over the years — but then he remembered the young up-and-comer who wouldn’t bow down, and shoved him backwards. It was on, son.

The silverback carried many legends with him, and all the males gathered around to see what would happen. “Guaranteed fight-of-the-night,” said a toucan who nobody liked. But it actually started kind of slow, with both enemies circling around each other, tentative. Finally the silverback rushed in, throwing those nasty hooks that made him famous. Q ducked and slipped, letting the punches bounce off his fists, then came back with a left hook of his own, loaded with five years of pent-up hostility, all the pain and disappointment of being subjugated by his rival.

Quinton Jackson knocked out Wanderlei Silva at 3:21 of round 1 at UFC 92, December 27th, 2008. Standing over his fallen foe, Q howled, howled, howled, and the animals of the eight-sided field shrieked into the night in savage approval.

Chris Colemon

The battle is nothing new, but the guns are getting bigger.

It seems like only yesteryear that Dana White‘s struggles with the information super-highway were limited to news leaks and damage control. Whenever those pesky bloggers scooped his big news, Dana stuck to a rigid formula: deny the reports, then deny them some more, and continue to do so until he was left with no choice but to confirm the story.

Unable to control what news journalists ran with, D-Dub tried to limit their access to all news, cutting some reporters off from access to the UFC at large. Veteran members of the MMA media were blacklisted, with even the most responsible reporters in the business getting caught in the crossfire.

Before laughing at our misfortune, take note that some of you are in the crosshairs as well. Zuffa’s most recent battle has been with the pirates who steal its pay-per-views and the fans that stream them. Though they’ve had mixed results in the courtroom, Zuffa’s aggressive litigation may be enough to scare fans away from the Internet’s countless illegal streams.

One man who isn’t fucking scared of the Internet is Dana White. After publicly supporting the SOPA bill, Zuffa drew the ire of hacktivist organization Anonymous. The group first targeted the UFC by taking over its website. Following taunts and challenges from Dana, the group then attacked the man himself, posting some of his sensitive personal and financial information online. SOPA may not live on, but Dana’s war with the Internet has only just begun.

Jason Moles

In an illustrious fifteen-year career, Tito Ortiz managed to steal the limelight long before his star rose and well after it burned out. For nearly two decades, the “Huntington Beach Bad Boy” has drawn the ire of fans and fighters alike. When you think about what makes a great rivalry, you immediately think passion, competitiveness, and entertainment. Like no other, Ortiz has done that and much, much more as he created some of the most memorable feuds in MMA history and his list of adversaries include, but is not limited to, Ken Shamrock, Chuck Liddell, Dana White, and Jenna Jameson.

The Ortiz/Shamrock trilogy helped the UFC avoid bankruptcy, putting $50-60 million (by the estimation of unbiased financial reporter Ken Shamrock) into the UFC’s coffers. The former light-heavyweight champion bested “The World’s Most Dangerous Man” on all three occasions and rubbed salt in Ken’s wounds with his explicit insults to him and his Lion’s Den comrades.

Like all rivalries, The People vs. Tito Ortiz is not without each side facing difficulties, and Ortiz took his share of beatings at the hands of Chuck “The Iceman” Liddell. If there were ever a time to borrow a line from WWE, before the whole Rashad Evans/Jon Jones thing went down, this is what we mean when we say fighters are “Good Friends, Better Enemies.” This beef was so epic it even got its own DVD so we can relive the highlights for years to come.

Just like the Yankees/Red Sox hatred has spilled into the streets and isn’t limited to just the actual players of a given team, UFC President Dana White has been an integral part of the Tito Ortiz story. The back and forth between White and Ortiz was enough to keep the media abuzz in between droughts of live action. The verbal sparring was just short of amazing; make of that what you will. Not many fighters have the brass balls to set their crosshairs on the boss, but he did…and then ducked out of a boxing match to settle the score like a man. Speaking of being a man, real men don’t hit women — or do they, then say it was all just a big misunderstanding? No one is safe in the prolific rivalry of Tito Ortiz and The People, not even camera phones.

Anthony Gannon

Mixed martial arts is a grappling-centric sport, with wrestling and Brazilian Jiu Jitsu reigning as the dominant forces. So it’s only natural that a rivalry would arise as to which style is the premiere base for MMA. As with all rivalries, the goal is to establish dominion. It doesn’t matter if it’s the two trashiest girls in school battling over who’s queen slut, the two toughest kids on the block fighting over who’s king shit, or more public feuds – such as McDonald’s vs. Burger King slugging it out over whose disgusting food can cause more cases of diabetes and heart disease. In a rivalry, someone’s got to lose.

The wrestling vs. BJJ rivalry is no different.

BJJ was without question the first dominant martial art in MMA. Royce Gracie opened up a can of chute burro on the martial arts world. He tapped out eleven dudes in a row to win the tournaments at UFCs 1, 2, and 4. He didn’t even have the decency to offer his conquests the choice between jelly and syrup. He just came in and established himself as the Triple OG. It took a few years for guys to catch on, but eventually it got to the point where a fighter could play the ground game with a BJJ pimp and not head home that night minus a limb. It wasn’t advisable — still isn’t, but it’s doable. Look to UFC 5, where Ken Shamrock took Royce Gracie down and laid on top of him for 36 agonizing minutes. He did less in the prone position than the girl who’s aptly known around my neighborhood as “Stump,” and the UFC’s first “superfight” was a horrifying spectacle, but it showed that a wrestler could survive a BJJ guy’s guard with a little knowledge of how to defend submissions.

What started as an opportunistic endeavor to introduce Gracie Jiu Jitsu to America spiraled into the evolutionary beast we know as modern MMA. Enter wrestlus dominus onto the scene — a particularly gruesome species with a nasty disposition and real fucked up ears. Gnarled appearance notwithstanding, the ability to dictate where a fight takes place is the wrestler’s greatest gift. It’s that ability that makes wrestling a dominant base. And the benefits for the sport have been amazing. Both styles have brought out the best in one another. Would Jose Aldo be the dominant champion he is had he never developed his stellar takedown defense? Would Ben Henderson still have a head to grow his gigantic hairdo on if he didn’t learn how to escape from a sickeningly deep choke? Just as homo erectus was forced by necessity to construct more advanced tools and weapons to have a fighting chance against the ungodly creatures that existed back then, fighters too were forced to evolve, and wrestling and BJJ were at the forefront of that expansion.

But what makes wrestling the dominant base is how the fights are judged. With few exceptions the guy in top position wins the fight, even if he’s not doing much. That may suck to those of us who love an active guard, but the scoring system is what it is. So in my most humble opinion, and with tremendous regard and respect for BJJ, wrestling must be given the edge in this rivalry. And if you don’t like it, I cordially invite you to suckle on my bountiful gluteus.

Seth Falvo

It’s fitting that Stephan Bonnar is our guest this week. Odds are pretty high that if you’re reading this article, you became an MMA fan after watching the first season of The Ultimate Fighter. And while Bonnar’s classic battle against Forrest Griffin may have sparked your interest in the sport, Chuck Liddell’s rivalry with Randy Couture is what made you stay.

Not only were the two UFC Hall of Famers in the primes of their careers for this rivalry, but they were two of the most popular, charismatic fighters in the sport. When UFC 52 shattered live gate and PPV buy records, it wasn’t exactly because of Lindland vs. Lutter. It was entirely because of all the new fans who wanted to see Chuck Liddell fight Randy Couture. And just in case you don’t believe it, their third and final bout at UFC 57 — which featured Brandon Vera vs. Justin Eilers as the co-main event, mind you — shattered those records yet again.

This is the rivalry that made it cool to tell your friends that you liked MMA. These are the athletes that virtually every fan since has listed among their favorite fighters. This is what brought MMA into the mainstream and kept it there — what more is there to say?

CagePotato Roundtable #3: Who’s Your Favorite Fighter to Never Win a Major Title?


(In the heart of the child who made it, the Super HLUK belt is the most prestigious title on the planet.)

CagePotato Roundtable is our new recurring column in which the CP writing staff and some of our friends all get together to debate an MMA-related topic. Joining us this week is MiddleEasy.com founder Zeus Tipado, who was kind enough to smoke an entire bag of PCP and channel the spirit of Wallid Ismail. If you have a suggestion for a future Roundtable column, send it to [email protected]. This week’s topic: Who’s your favorite MMA fighter to never win a major title?

Ben Goldstein

We take personality for granted these days. Everywhere you look, the MMA ranks are packed with shameless self-promoters, aspiring comedians, unrepentant assholes, and assorted clown-men. But in the UFC’s infancy, fighters tended to come in two types: Stoic (see Royce Gracie, Dan Severn) and certifiably insane ( see Joe Son, Harold Howard). David “Tank” Abbott changed all that. He entered the UFC with a fully-fledged persona, and managed to stay in character through his entire career. Simply put, he was the UFC’s first villain, and he played that role more effectively than anyone has since.

Heralded as a “pit fighter” — a term invented by UFC promoter Art Davie — Tank’s martial art of choice was hitting guys in the head really hard, which he did while wearing the sort of fingerless gloves that soon become industry standard. It’s difficult to overstate the impact that Tank’s debut at UFC 6 had on a 14-year-old Ben Goldstein as I was watching the pay-per-view at my friend Josh’s house. It wasn’t just that Abbott starched John Matua in a mere 18 seconds, or that Matua’s body seized up when his head hit the canvas. It’s that Tank reacted to the knockout by mimic-ing Matua’s stiffened pose. Tank actually mocked John Matua for having a seizure. Ruthless! And how about his destruction of Steve Nelmark at the Ultimate Ultimate ’96, which had to be the first “oh shit is that guy dead?” moment in UFC history. Tank was a living reminder that the UFC was very real, and very dangerous.


(In the heart of the child who made it, the Super HLUK belt is the most prestigious title on the planet.)

CagePotato Roundtable is our new recurring column in which the CP writing staff and some of our friends all get together to debate an MMA-related topic. Joining us this week is MiddleEasy.com founder Zeus Tipado, who was kind enough to smoke an entire bag of PCP and channel the spirit of Wallid Ismail. If you have a suggestion for a future Roundtable column, send it to [email protected]. This week’s topic: Who’s your favorite MMA fighter to never win a major title?

Ben Goldstein

We take personality for granted these days. Everywhere you look, the MMA ranks are packed with shameless self-promoters, aspiring comedians, unrepentant assholes, and assorted clown-men. But in the UFC’s infancy, fighters tended to come in two types: Stoic (see Royce Gracie, Dan Severn) and certifiably insane ( see Joe Son, Harold Howard). David “Tank” Abbott changed all that. He entered the UFC with a fully-fledged persona, and managed to stay in character through his entire career. Simply put, he was the UFC’s first villain, and he played that role more effectively than anyone has since.

Heralded as a “pit fighter” — a term invented by UFC promoter Art Davie — Tank’s martial art of choice was hitting guys in the head really hard, which he did while wearing the sort of fingerless gloves that soon become industry standard. It’s difficult to overstate the impact that Tank’s debut at UFC 6 had on a 14-year-old Ben Goldstein as I was watching the pay-per-view at my friend Josh’s house. It wasn’t just that Abbott starched John Matua in a mere 18 seconds, or that Matua’s body seized up when his head hit the canvas. It’s that Tank reacted to the knockout by mimic-ing Matua’s stiffened pose. Tank actually mocked John Matua for having a seizure. Ruthless! And how about his destruction of Steve Nelmark at the Ultimate Ultimate ’96, which had to be the first “oh shit is that guy dead?” moment in UFC history. Tank was a living reminder that the UFC was very real, and very dangerous.

The rise of talented, well-rounded heavyweights in the UFC made Abbott obsolete just as quickly as Nirvana killed Warrant. (Work with me, here.) Violent losses to guys like Vitor Belfort and Pedro Rizzo in 1997-98 led to the end of his first stint in the UFC, and his return five years later — as promising as it looked at the time — ended in three more first-round stoppage losses. Since then, Tank’s career highlights have included getting knocked out by Paul Buentello in Strikeforce, getting knocked out by Kimbo Slice for EliteXC, and taking an unofficial decision win over Scott Ferrozzo in a backyard. His famous beard has gone gray with age, and now Tank Abbott looks exactly like what he is — a faded legend from the old times, an MMA pioneer who deserves your respect even though he never respected anybody.

Wallid Ismail, via Zeus Tipado

A lotta guys, they talk alotta bullsheet. They say ‘Wallid, who’s the best guy that never had a…how you say, that never had a belt.’ Guys, they ask me this all the time, man. I say there’s one guy that I remember from Curitiba, Brazil. This guy name Pele, he fight everybody. He’s from the heart of Brazil, the jungle of Brazil — like me. I’m from the Amazon.

Pele fight everybody — he fight Matt Hughes, Pat Miletich, Babalu, Lee Murray, Jake Ellenberger — and he still fighting, man! Pele is still fighting…and winning! This guy no cheeken, he knows! He knows he da best, ya undastand? I told you, I told everybody last time I do interview with Cagea Potato, I say ‘Hey, this guy Pele should be champion.’ I just want everybody to remind — everybody to remember that this guy Pele should be champion.

A long time ago, Pele fought this guy Macaco Patino at the Campeonato Brasileiro de Vale Tudo. These guy, he talk alotta bullsheet. Before the fight me, Macaco, Pele and this guy Stephen Quadros — you know Stephen Quardos? Stephen Quadros was in the room and Macaco has too much cock. He’s too cock, how you say — he cocky. He had alotta guys on the side, talk alotta bullsheet. Macaco pick up a phone a threw it at Pele from across the room! This guy coward, ya undastand? Pele, he was confident. Everybody get in between Pele and Macaco. Pele say ‘You fight now, but tomorrow I make you quit fighting I hit you so hard.’ Pele confident man, he no coward. Next day at Campeonato Brasileiro de Vale Tudo, Pele make Macaco tap to strike. To strike! No one tap to strike! I see Macaco after the…after the fight and I ask ‘Why you talk alotta bullsheet and tap to strike? Because you cock, you coward — you scared about Pele.’

I think I get Pele in Jungle Fight to win a title. He train hard for every fight, no doubt about. Believe me, he will put on a great fight in Jungle Fight. Tell everybody go to Jungle Fight and get my website because everybody know I don’t stop. This is my home. I don’t care. Let’s go to the big fight.

[Ed. note: Wallid would like all of you to buy his “Angry Wallid” t-shirt for just $17.99 on WorldOverEasy.com]

Seth Falvo

I’ve implied it on here before, so I might as well just come out and say it: I grew up a professional wrestling fan. Growing up, Razor Ramon (later known by his real name, Scott Hall) was one of my biggest heroes (draw your own conclusions). Every now and then, I’ll still watch AWA reruns on ESPN: Classic and legitimately enjoy it. There, I said it.

That being said, I never got behind the professional wrestling careers of the MMA fighters like Ken Shamrock and Dan Severn. To me, the MMA fighters were way too normal for professional wrestling’s cartoonish reality (Ed. Note: Obviously, aside from Tank Abbott’s obsession with boy bands). They weren’t working class white guys acting like pro-Apartheid South African colonels — they were tough guys acting like tough guys. They weren’t jumping off of the top rope — they were using somewhat realistic looking takedowns and submissions. The fact that they would lose to oiled up steroid abusers that they would destroy in real fights made the whole thing too stupid for me to continue to suspend my disbelief. In my case, The Masked Man’s theory is true: The legitimate tough guy who earns a living as a fake fighter is too much of a paradox.

Needless to say, I immediately fell in love with Ikuhisa Minowa.

Minowaman appeals to my inner wrestling geek the way that Chael Sonnen wishes he did. We’ve seen fighters donning professional wrestling attire before, but they’ve tended to get their asses kicked. We’ve seen professional wrestling moves in MMA, but not as frequently or deliberately as Minowa uses them. We’ve seen freak show fights, but this guy has made a career out of winning them.

Of course, it bears mention that as good as he’s looked against Super Hulks, he tends to lose to guys his own size. And while he’s been fun to watch in Japan, his most recent fight against Kendall Grove was “adequate (for a ProElite bout)”, which is the nicest way to say “boring as shit” that I could think of. But while Minowaman will never hold a major title, he’ll always be one of my favorite fighters because he’s the bridge between professional wrestling and mixed martial arts that guys like Shamrock and Severn couldn’t be: He’s the cartoonish fighter who is legitimate enough to win real fights.

Mike Russell

The first name that popped into my head when we were discussing the theme for this week’s roundtable was Renato Sobral, who I’ve enjoyed watching for as long as I remember. The only snag was I had forgotten that he held the Strikeforce strap briefly after snatching it from overachieving Bobby Southworth. Damn, so much for Babalu.

Then I spent the next half-hour crossing names off my rapidly dwindling list.

“Okay, I’ll take Sakuraba instead. Rex has Sakuraba? Then I’ll go with Karo. Wait. Does Pre-Zuffa WEC count as a major title? It does? And Zeus has Pele, right? In that case I’m going with my number-five favorite fighter to never hold a major title: Igor Vovchanchyn.”

Yeah Google experts, “The Ukraine Freight Train” wore gold briefly, but his belt was almost immediately repossessed by the Yakuza because he kneed Mark Kerr in the head while he was on the ground, so it doesn’t count. See, we have Wikipedia in Canada too. It’s a bunch of binders full of printouts stored at the library/post office/trading post and we can only sign out one volume for 15 minutes per week, but we have it, so suck it Xenophon.

Anyway, at the time the Japanese promotion rules said that the winning strikes he landed in the bout were simply not allowed, domo arigato. The rule was changed months later and he would avenge the fight by beating Kerr one year after coming within a rule change of being a champ. Always a bridesmaid, huh I-Vov?

Prior to the controversial first fight with Kerr, which was afterwards ruled a no-contest, Igor was on a 32-fight winning streak. Not many fighters are able to flash that card — let alone wins over a prime Sakuraba, Gary Goodridge, Gilbert Yvel, Yuki Kondo, Enson Inoue and Valentijn Overeem — who were all victims of “Ice Cold.”

Sure Vovchanchyn wasn’t the most athletic guy and he was far from being the most talented fighter, but he always came to fight, which is something a lot of guys in the current point-fighting era of MMA don’t do. When Igor was one of the guys in the ring, you could expect punishment, and no matter if he was the guy inflicting it or the one absorbing it, the fight was going to be exciting. The dude had 55 wins in his 66-fight career: 29 knockouts, 17 submissions and only eight decisions, which says a lot about his style, which, if had to describe, I’d say was “tactical brawling.”

After walking away from the sport before hitting his stride (sort of like ReX) due to a glut of nagging injuries back in 1998 at the prime fighting age of 32 and with a staggering 55-10 (1NC) MMA record, Igor reportedly took his career earnings and opened up a small restaurant back in the Ukraine. The eatery caters to well-fed, hard-drinking Russian tourists. They have a unique dash and dine policy at the restaurant: If you can make it to the door without getting knocked out by a karate chop to the neck, your meal is on the house.

Andrei Arlovski forfeited the bet when he crumpled to the floor while tucking in his napkin during his first visit to the establishment.

Chris Colemon

A few seconds into your first Genki Sudo fight you ask yourself, “What the fuck is he doing?!?” A few minutes later you have your answer: “Whatever the fuck he wants.”

Sudo’s entrances were more entertaining than most fights; his fights were more interesting than most of our lives. The “Neo Samarai” made a career of unorthodoxy. His unique arsenal included superb takedowns and flying submissions, and when spinning backfists and sommersault kicks lost his interest he’d simply start making shit up. The “Mixed” in Sudo’s MMA included maneuvers from professional wrestling and the B-Boy world. From bouncing off of the ropes for a drop kick to taking his opponent for a helicopter ride, he transformed high-risk, crowd pleasing moments into fight finishing techniques. And if you think losing a fight in front of thousands of people is demoralizing, imagine that the dude kicking your ass is taking frequent breaks to do the robot.

Between appearances on “Ninja Warrior”, Sudo submitted Mike Brown and Nate Marquardt, KO’d Royler Gracie, and scored a decision win over Duane Ludwig [ignore those record books, kids. Ludwig did not win that fight]. He’s also the proud inventor of the ‘cankle lock‘.

Sadly, Sudo retired from the sport in his prime at the age of 28 after heeding questionable advice from a urinal. Since that time he’s written eight books and found success as a Japanese pop star. So yeah, a guy getting life-coach lessons from the shitter has a better life than you.

Anthony Gannon

When it comes to losing title fights, you can add Kenny Florian to the “death and taxes” certainties of life. He had three shots at glory in the UFC, two at lightweight that he lost to Sean Sherk and BJ Penn, and one at featherweight that he lost to Jose Aldo, not including the lightweight title eliminator he lost against Gray Maynard. That’s a lot of chances, but he earned them by pretty much destroying everyone else they put in front of him. Kenny has mad squabbles, but he just could never get his hands on that stinking belt.

His odyssey took him from 185 all the way down to 145 in search of the strap – the only fighter in UFC history to ever compete in four different weight divisions. Perhaps if he didn’t injure his back, an injury that may force him to retire, he could have tried his hand at 135, or even the UFC’s new 125-pound division. He probably could have made it if he rid himself of such unnecessary components as that extra kidney, perhaps that cumbersome second lung, and if he clipped his toenails really low, like to the point where it hurts like a sumbitch. Kenny just had that level of dedication, the kind young fighters can learn from.

Kenny never made excuses. In the Sherk and Maynard fights he spent more time on his back than my ex-girlfriend when she was “studying.” Speaking of which, I also love Kenny because he looks more like my old economics professor than a fighter. I can envision a meathead student boldly challenging Kenny on the merits of the Laffer Curve and whether it does in fact justify supply-side economics, and Kenny with his bowtie and sweater-vest delivering a ridge-hand to the Adam’s Apple for such blatant sass. I digress.

Kenny didn’t bitch and whine about wrestlers humping him like many other fighters do. He took full accountability, and said he needed to get better at wrestling. Imagine that, personal responsibility – what a novel concept. Kenny always worked towards improvement. The fact that he never held a belt is certainly not because he didn’t take his talent as far as it could possibly go. He did. He was simply beaten by better fighters. That may be of little consolation to Kenny at this point, but he should be proud of his accomplishments in the cage. He went for it, time and again, and pushed himself to the limits to get there. For that, I salute Kenny Florian: Here’s to you, Mr. Non-Title Winning Fighter Turned Commentator. Break to Bud Light “Real American Heroes” theme…

Jefferey “Karmaatemycat” Watts

So many gatekeepers, guys, seriously? How about an undefeated grand-master with over four hundred fights? Only one name has stood out in Mixed Martial Arts since day one, and that name is Gracie. Even though blatant ignorance won’t allow most people to get past the Royce Gracie Era, I hold the very personal opinion that the greatest fighter to never hold a title is Rickson Gracie. I mean, who else do you know with a lineage like Rickson? You don’t. It’s just that simple.

It’s a well known fact that Rickson could easily destroy most of today’s fighters if he was their age. Thankfully, for all these “talented” guys who call themselves fighters, Rickson is retired and focused on his Jujitsu. In his day, it is alleged that Rickson had over four hundred fights and won them all. Sure his sanctioned record says 11-0, but Rickson is one of the few true Jujitsu Gods, with a legitimate 8th-degree Black/Red Belt in BJJ around his waist.

Rickson also did his fighting when the “Unified Rules” didn’t exist, which makes him that much more badass. After all, the definition of Vale Tudo is “anything goes” or “everything goes,” and back in the day that’s exactly what they did. It should be noted that Rickson has been training to fight for the honor of the Gracie family name since the age of six years old. At the age of 53, that translates to 47 years of Martial Arts training, likely day in and day out.

Even years after his prime, his name is still revered in the MMA community. Many jujitsu newbies pay homage to the famed Rickson Gracie and would likely sacrifice their first born if only to harness just a bit of his supernatural talent. Most fighters would be content just retiring with a humble record, but not Rickson! 400+ fights and ZERO losses!

Jason Moles

Ever since his Fight of the Year against Karo “The Heat” Parisian at Ultimate Fight Night 6, Diego Sanchez has been one of my favorite fighters to watch in action, and it pains me that gold has eluded him this long despite a change in weight classes and a title fight against BJ Penn at UFC 107 — a fight he lost due to a cut. It’s like watching a dog that’s been in an accident chase a tail that isn’t there; he beats everyone except the guys that really matter. Nevertheless, Sanchez has remained as positive as Kimbo’s beard is gnarly, often found chanting “Yes!” while doing cartwheels.

Unshaken, the Jackson’s MMA product has proven time and time again that when he comes to fight, HE COMES TO FIGHT! As winner of the first season of The Ultimate Fighter, Diego Sanchez has been trying to live up to expectations worthy of a champion. Since then, he’s racked up an impressive five Fight of the Night awards, but never took home a championship belt. I know some of you aren’t in favor of giving it up for heart, but Rex and I are — so stick it.

Jared Jones

This was perhaps the easiest roundtable thus far for me to decide on. Tell me, which one of the other picks has 10 muthafuckin’ end of the night awards? How about a future position in the Indiana Senate? No, not you Matt, I’m talking about Chris muthafuckin’ Lytle, a.k.a the most entertaining dude to ever step foot in the Octagon. HE HAS NEVER BEEN FINISHED IN 54 MUTHAFUCKIN’ FIGHTS, and was in fact forced to quit in those two TKO losses that soil his record because the ringside physicians did not want to lose their jobs. His wars with Thiago Alves, Paul Taylor, Aaron Riley, Marcus Davis, Dan Hardy, and Tiki Ghosn *snicker* are just a few examples in Lytle’s insanely long list of credentials.

But the best thing about Lytle would have to be that he is perhaps the most underrated grappler in the history of MMA. He has submission victories that have come by way of forearm choke, bulldog choke, guillotine, kneebar, straight armbar, triangle kimura, and damn near every other form of submission available. Despite this, he chooses to stand and brawl with whoever will allow it, because the man puts entertaining his audience above winning, and that’s pretty much the point of this roundtable, right? Simply put, you don’t forget a Lytle fight, and the man has missed out on possible title fights to ensure that.

I will end my rant with a few little known facts about Lytle: he was the inspiration for the movies 300, Commando, Mad Max, and Sensei Seagal‘s muthafuckin’ career. He mixes razor blades with his corn flakes every morning, and pisses blood every afternoon. Those last two are not related. Chris Lytle‘s NCAA tournament bracket is flawless every year, and in 1978, he beat Doyle Brunson in a game of Texas Hold ‘Em despite holding a Shoprite receipt and an Old Maid card. Former President Dwight D. Eisenhower once gave him the key to the country. That’s right, THE MUTHAFUKIN’ COUNTRY. Chris Lytle doesn’t need our worship, because the walls of his home have more plaques on them than Dr. Dre’s, but “Lights Out” is who we think of, subconsciously or otherwise, when we use terms like “warrior,” “badass,” or “Cobra Commander.”

And finally Doug “ReX13″ Richardson, who concludes today’s epic roundtable using the ancient art of haiku…

Saku need not boast
a hero, but holy shit
how is he not dead?

CagePotato Roundtable #2: What Was the Greatest Robbery in MMA History?

CagePotato Roundtable is our new recurring column in which the CP writing staff and some of our friends all get together to debate an MMA-related topic. Joining us this week is former CagePotato staff writer Chad Dundas, who now writes for an up-and-coming blog called ESPN. If you have a suggestion for a future Roundtable column, send it to [email protected].

CagePotato reader Alexander W. writes: “The Demetrious Johnson vs. Ian McCall fight inspired my suggestion: Greatest robberies in MMA history. I’d be curious to hear the variety of opinions out there. Surely that fight was a top ten.”

Chad Dundas

There are a lot of things about Pride Total Elimination 2003 that don’t make sense when viewed with modern MMA sensibilities. How to even comprehend a world where a skinny, haired-up, suit jacket-wearing Dana White could bet Pride bigwigs $250,000 that Chuck Liddell was going to win that company’s 2003 middleweight grand prix? Or comprehend that a bizarrely dangerous and clearly-enunciating Liddell showed up in the first round of said tournament and KTFOed an impossibly svelte Alistair Overeem? Or that Overeem had an old dude in a robe and shriners hat accompany him to the ring while carrying a big foam hammer? Or that on this night somebody got tapped out with a sleeve choke? Or that Wanderlei Silva fought Kazushi Sakuraba and it didn’t just make everybody feel sad and empty?

No sense at all.

What does still sort of make sense is this: After watching Liddell sleep Overeem, there was no way on God’s green Earth that Pride judges were going to let another UFC emissary walk out of Saitama Super Arena with a win*, so they conspired to pull off one of the greatest screwjobs in MMA history when they awarded Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira a unanimous decision over Ricco Rodriguez. The indisputable fact is, Ricco whipped Big Nog good that night, taking him down, brutalizing him, shaking off his feeble submission attempts and controlling pretty much the whole affair. At least, that’s how I remember it. Unfortunately, due to Zuffa’s ongoing war on Internet piracy it seems their bout will only be remembered by history and by the creepy old man who answers the queries you submit to the Sherdog Fight Finder.

CagePotato Roundtable is our new recurring column in which the CP writing staff and some of our friends all get together to debate an MMA-related topic. Joining us this week is former CagePotato staff writer Chad Dundas, who now writes for an up-and-coming blog called ESPN. If you have a suggestion for a future Roundtable column, send it to [email protected].

CagePotato reader Alexander W. writes: “The Demetrious Johnson vs. Ian McCall fight inspired my suggestion: Greatest robberies in MMA history. I’d be curious to hear the variety of opinions out there. Surely that fight was a top ten.”

Chad Dundas

There are a lot of things about Pride Total Elimination 2003 that don’t make sense when viewed with modern MMA sensibilities. How to even comprehend a world where a skinny, haired-up, suit jacket-wearing Dana White could bet Pride bigwigs $250,000 that Chuck Liddell was going to win that company’s 2003 middleweight grand prix? Or comprehend that a bizarrely dangerous and clearly-enunciating Liddell showed up in the first round of said tournament and KTFOed an impossibly svelte Alistair Overeem? Or that Overeem had an old dude in a robe and shriners hat accompany him to the ring while carrying a big foam hammer? Or that on this night somebody got tapped out with a sleeve choke? Or that Wanderlei Silva fought Kazushi Sakuraba and it didn’t just make everybody feel sad and empty?

No sense at all.

What does still sort of make sense is this: After watching Liddell sleep Overeem, there was no way on God’s green Earth that Pride judges were going to let another UFC emissary walk out of Saitama Super Arena with a win*, so they conspired to pull off one of the greatest screwjobs in MMA history when they awarded Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira a unanimous decision over Ricco Rodriguez. The indisputable fact is, Ricco whipped Big Nog good that night, taking him down, brutalizing him, shaking off his feeble submission attempts and controlling pretty much the whole affair. At least, that’s how I remember it. Unfortunately, due to Zuffa’s ongoing war on Internet piracy it seems their bout will only be remembered by history and by the creepy old man who answers the queries you submit to the Sherdog Fight Finder.

What stings the worst about the whole thing is that it’s easy to imagine an alternate universe where that decision went the other way. In that universe, maybe Rodriguez goes on to become one of the sport’s most beloved and respected figures, ascending to full-on legendary status and winning gold in both Pride and the UFC, before having his arm snapped by Frank Mir at UFC 140 without so much as changing the expression on his beautiful, leathery face. And instead it’s Big Nog who slips unceremoniously into obscurity, slumming it on Celebrity Rehab and fighting out his days at events like Israel FC, Cage Thug MMA, and Armageddon Fighting Championships.

If that universe is out there somewhere, I hope we all find it someday.

(*Yeah, I’m just guessing about all this, but it feels true in spirit.)

Doug “ReX CaiolaBatata” Richardson

Look, everyone knows that a robbery in PRIDE means nothing because the whole thing was fake anyway. At least in those cases, you knew that the judges had their reasons. Here in America, we have robberies based off of pure, home-grown stupid. We produced the master karate sensai judge that thinks leg kicks are pointless. Out on the regional scene, in places like Texas, Ohio, Florida, and Arizona, we’ve seen decisions passed down that were mind-gobblingly incompetent. Try to forget that those same states are players in national politics.

So let me tell you bastards about Zoila Frausto. Frausto was fighting at bantamweight and walking around at 150 pounds before Bellator announced its only tournament for women in 2010 — at 115. It was a brutal weight cut, but Frausto made it. Throughout the tournament, her most impressive victories were over the scales. A bland weight-loss diet left her unable to train intensely, and her performances in the cage were every bit as anemic as you’d expect. She out-muscled a visibly smaller boxer in Jessica Pene in the quarter-finals, earning an uncontroversial, but uninspiring win.

Her opponent in the semis at Bellator 31 was Jessica Aguilar, a fantastically well-rounded fighter out of American Top Team. The Warrior Princess spent most of the fight backpedaling, and her face told a bruising tale after fifteen minutes. Aguilar didn’t have a scratch, but Frausto got a split decision — one of the judges gave her all three rounds. I honestly thought the judges were confused about the fighters’ identities — the decision was that bad. So Frausto advanced to the finals.

Here, at least, justice would be done. Frausto’s opponent was Megumi Fujii, the undefeated, best female fighter on the planet (she’s not a can crusher ben dammit icanthearyou lalalalalalalalalalala). Fujii had outclassed both her opponents in the tournament, and she’d have her way with this interloper and claim an American title.

Except she wouldn’t. Fujii, like some kind of insane Sakuraba with a vagina, elected to stand and box with the one-dimensional striker. Frausto does her best Leonard Garcia impression [Ed. note: Hold on, I’m getting to that. -BG], putting on an impressive show of offense without actually managing to do anything or even land most of her attacks. Fujii out-lands her, out-maneuvers her, and out-works her. But those big arm movements must be impressive from a distance. Despite Frausto’s swollen face and rapidly closing eye, one Florida judge scores it four rounds to one for her, another sees it a bit closer, one judge has a brain in his head but he’s outvoted and boom: Frausto catches another gift decision and claims the Bellator Straw-weight Championship.

Rematches with both Aguilar and Fujii have been pursued, but neither have ever materialized. To this day, the women’s rankings are skewed and Frausto retains the belt. She’s hasn’t fought at 115 since October 2010.

Ben Goldstein

Greatest robbery in MMA history? Lee Murray vs. Securitas, no comparison. The dude masterminds an elaborate kidnapping/cash depot heist, and walks off with over $86 million before going on the lam in Morocco. That’s even more impressive than beating Tito Ortiz’s ass in an alley.

If you need a “real” answer, then fine: Leonard Garcia vs. Chan Sung Jung at WEC 48, which is the robbery by which all modern robberies are judged. It’s the LeBron James of robberies. Judges love Leonard Garcia because he grunts like a female tennis player when he throws punches, and that irrational love helped Garcia take a similar decision against Nam Phan in December 2010, and previously hypnotized one judge into scoring it Garcia’s way when he got blown out in all three rounds against Mark Hominick at WEC 51. But Garcia/Jung 1 has to be the worst of the lot — or anybody’s lot — because it added a foul aftertaste to the greatest MMA brawl since Griffin vs. Bonnar at the TUF 1 Finale. It’s the proverbial poop-pie at the end of a great southern meal.

According to FightMetric, Garcia shouldn’t have won any rounds of that fight, let alone two. Here’s how Bad Boy clinched the split-decision, despite being outstruck 106-71 — he scored two takedowns, and he was the aggressor for much of the fight, meaning that the faces he made while audibly whiffing his hooks were much scarier than his opponent’s, as the Korean Zombie was tagging Leonard at will. Obviously it wasn’t a career-ender for Jung, who got his revenge 11 months later. But it was such a perfect representation of what’s wrong with modern MMA judging: Striking totals don’t matter, each takedown counts for a billion points, and “Octagon Control” can always be used to justify scoring it for the guy you like better. Ugh. Terrible.

Jefferey “Karmaatemycat” Watts

Whenever I think of a robbery, normally Matt Hamill and Michael Bisping immediately come to mind. But a fight that tops even that is Machida/Rua 1 at UFC 104. That fight was incredibly hyped because of “The Machida Era.” Everyone was so entranced by the Elusive one. The Dragon had us eating out of the palm of his hand. Besides, nobody really knew which Mauricio “Shogun” Rua would show up for the fight and to be honest, who could blame them? After multiple knee surgeries, a broken arm, and some seriously lackluster performances not many people saw this as anything but an uphill battle for Rua. Machida was even favored in the odds by over 4-1, and for good reason.

However, right from the start, Shogun took to the center of the Octagon and kept cutting angles on Machida. That set the stage for some dirty boxing but more importantly some incredibly vicious leg kicks. It was evident before the end of the first round that Shogun was landing the more damaging shots. Machida started off in southpaw, but as I said, those leg kicks quickly changed all of that, seeing as Machida needed to change stances during round three.

It became apparent in round four and five that Machida had slowed down considerably. Meanwhile, Rua kept pushing forward, landing harder strikes, cutting Machida off with angles, and pushing him against the cage. It seemed like Rua had it all in the bag. It isn’t often you find yourself agreeing with Mike Goldberg but this seemed like one of those times, a clear-cut unanimous decision for the challenger, right? Wrong.

Judges Cecil Peoples, Nelson Hamilton, and Marcos Rosales scored the bout 48-47 for Machida. Rosales and Peoples both scored the first three rounds in favor of the champion, while Hamilton gave Machida rounds two, three, and four. After the fight, Cecil Peoples stated that leg kicks don’t win fights, and further explained that he thought Machida was landing the cleaner, more efficient shots during the entirety of the fight. FightMetric, however, disagreed claiming Shogun outstruck Machida in round one (19 to 11), round two (21 to 7), round three (19 to 14), round four (10 to 4), and round five (13-6). I don’t know what three of MMA’s most experienced judges were smoking the night of UFC 104, but I would wager it smelled of shenanigans.

Luckily for MMA fans and Shogun Rua, the Baldfather saw the fight a bit differently than the judges. He granted Shogun an immediate rematch. Rua won the rematch in such devastating fashion that Machida’s own father called for his son’s retirement.

Seth Falvo

Remember that scene from The Hurricane, where the black Rubin Carter beats the hell out of the white Joey Giardello, yet loses on the scorecards of the blatantly racist white judges? Yeah, it turns out that the real fight was nothing like that. At all. Not that that should surprise you. That scene displayed such over-the-top biases that I’d assume something like that could never happen in real life if I wasn’t familiar with Mariusz Pudzianowksi vs. James Thompson II.

It’s not that I want to believe that the outcome was predetermined; it’s just that literally everything about the completely unnecessary rematch leads me to that conclusion. The rematch was booked for KSW 17: Revenge — an event named by the least subtle person to ever work for the Polish MMA promotion. While Mariusz Pudzianowski was unsurprisingly the overwhelming fan favorite, his only significant offensive output was a jab he landed early in the second round. Meanwhile, Thompson landed numerous takedowns and punches from the mount and side control throughout the fight. Thompson dominated, yet Pudzianowski was still declared the winner by majority decision. While a terrible decision shouldn’t always lead one to believe the bout was a work, it doesn’t help that one of the judges’ scorecards looked like this. The hometown hero had earned his revenge — on paper, at least.

The fight has since been declared a no-contest due to miscommunication between the judges, who declared the bout a draw which should have warranted a sudden-death round, and the referee. Not that it matters. Even if the miscommunication never occurred, the sudden-death round was completely unnecessary. Thompson won easily and has nothing but a no-contest on his record to show for it. Fauh-king joooooooooke, indeed.

Jared Jones

Marcos Galvao may be the most cursed man in the history of decisions. For every gift Leonard Garcia is undeservedly given, three Christmas presents are stolen from beneath Galvao’s children in their sleep, metaphorically speaking. I would quote something about the yin and yang of life, but being that I was recently ostracized from my tree dwelling commune for urinating on one too many stray animals, I will save the liberal hippie analogy for another day.

The point is, Galvao’s fight with Joe Warren at Bellator 41 was the first time in recent memory that I actually believed the judges were paid off. Fresh off his damn-near-heroic comeback victory over Joe Soto, in which he snagged the Bellator Featherweight championship, self-proclaimed (aren’t they always?) “Baddest Man on the Planet” Joe Warren decided to make a run at the Bantamweight crown. Why he was set on trying to capture two titles before defending one is beyond me, but Warren figured he’d test the waters against journeyman Marcos Galvao in a 137-pound catchweight fight back at Bellator 41. Galvao, who was riding a three-fight win streak over mediocre competition, seemed like a perfect matchup for both Warren and Bellator to display the champ’s dominance. This idea has backfired on Bellator before, and it should have backfired on them on that cool April night.

The first round was close, but clearly Galvao’s, as Warren’s main offensive output consisted of attempting wild takedowns that succeeded in getting him mounted on more than one occasion. Perhaps that was the goal, but I can guaran-damn-tee his goal in the second round wasn’t to eat as many flying knees as humanly possibly, and yet that’s how it went down. The third was clearly Warren’s, but was nowhere near the 10-8 round he would have needed to walk away with a lucky draw. Despite all this, Warren would claim victory, and Galvao’s children would go hungry for another night, because the world can be a cold, unforgiving place. Though Warren would meet his maker in Alexis Vila shortly thereafter, Galvao would wind up on the wrong end of another bullshit decision against, you guessed it, Alexis Vila. Yin and Yang, folks.

Go ahead, TRY and throw some Fightmetric stats at me for the Warren/Galvao fight; it will be as pointless an argument as the one that tree-hugging tyrant Raiyne Thomas-Kirkpatrick-Gilligan and I had before I was kicked out of Serenity Gardens. Neither of us are going to change our ways, so we’d best just move along.

Did we leave out any good MMA robberies? Let us know *your* #1 pick in the comments section.

CagePotato Roundtable #1: What’s Your Favorite Come-From-Behind Win in MMA History?

CagePotato Roundtable is a new recurring column in which the CagePotato writing staff (and some of our friends) share their opinions on an MMA-related topic, and hopefully inspire some discussion among our readers as well. For the inaugural installment, we took inspiration from Joe Rogan’s enthusiastic crowning of last weekend’s Tim Boetch vs. Yushin Okami fight as “the greatest comeback in the history of the UFC.” That’s debatable, to say the least — but isn’t everything? So what *was* the greatest comeback fight in MMA history?

Seth Falvo
When Joe Rogan first called The Barbarian’s victory the greatest comeback in UFC history, my first thought was “Come on, Joe, are you seriously the only MMA fan who hasn’t seen Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira vs. Bob Sapp?” That comeback exposed Sapp for the overhyped freak that he was while establishing the legend of Big Nog and his ability to come from behind to win fights. Hell, we at Cagepotato consider it to be the best freak show fight to ever come out of Japan. But in fairness to Joe Rogan, that fight didn’t take place in the UFC. So my second thought was “Come on, Joe, are you seriously the only UFC fan who hasn’t seen Mike Russow vs. Todd Duffee?”

What makes this comeback so great was the fact that Todd Duffee and Mike Russow were essentially photo negatives of each other. Before this fight, Duffee was destined to be the next big thing in the UFC’s heavyweight division, having just tied the record for the fastest knockout in UFC history in his promotional debut against Tim Hague. Duffee was on the cover of Muscle & Fitness, the poster boy for Muscletech and seemingly in every men’s magazine on the planet — no matter how loosely the content was related to sports. Meanwhile, Russow was quietly coming off of a unanimous decision victory over Justin McCully in his UFC debut and had more fat in his left bicep than Todd Duffee had in his entire body. Everything about this fight seemed like it was a squash match.

CagePotato Roundtable is a new recurring column in which the CagePotato writing staff (and some of our friends) share their opinions on an MMA-related topic, and hopefully inspire some discussion among our readers as well. For the inaugural installment, we took inspiration from Joe Rogan’s enthusiastic crowning of last weekend’s Tim Boetch vs. Yushin Okami fight as “the greatest comeback in the history of the UFC.” That’s debatable, to say the least — but isn’t everything? So what *was* the greatest comeback fight in MMA history?

Seth Falvo
When Joe Rogan first called The Barbarian’s victory the greatest comeback in UFC history, my first thought was “Come on, Joe, are you seriously the only MMA fan who hasn’t seen Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira vs. Bob Sapp?” That comeback exposed Sapp for the overhyped freak that he was while establishing the legend of Big Nog and his ability to come from behind to win fights. Hell, we at Cagepotato consider it to be the best freak show fight to ever come out of Japan. But in fairness to Joe Rogan, that fight didn’t take place in the UFC. So my second thought was “Come on, Joe, are you seriously the only UFC fan who hasn’t seen Mike Russow vs. Todd Duffee?”

What makes this comeback so great was the fact that Todd Duffee and Mike Russow were essentially photo negatives of each other. Before this fight, Duffee was destined to be the next big thing in the UFC’s heavyweight division, having just tied the record for the fastest knockout in UFC history in his promotional debut against Tim Hague. Duffee was on the cover of Muscle & Fitness, the poster boy for Muscletech and seemingly in every men’s magazine on the planet — no matter how loosely the content was related to sports. Meanwhile, Russow was quietly coming off of a unanimous decision victory over Justin McCully in his UFC debut and had more fat in his left bicep than Todd Duffee had in his entire body. Everything about this fight seemed like it was a squash match.

And for the first two rounds, it was. You could almost see the dollar signs in the eyes of Muscletech CEOs as Duffee smashed away at the doughy Russow, seemingly seconds away from a stoppage throughout the fight. Yet out of nowhere, Russow landed a hard straight right that crumbled Duffee, earning him the victory and single-handedly killing all of his hype.

Since then, their careers have gone in opposite directions. Mike Russow has improved his UFC record to 4-0, most recently picking up a victory over John-Olav Einemo at UFC on FOX 2: Evans vs. Davis. Meanwhile, Todd Duffee was released from the UFC for his apparent attitude problem, knocked out by Alistair Overeem in nineteen seconds at Dynamite!! 2010 and recently agreed to fight Neil Grove in India. So there’s that, I guess.

Chris Colemon

(Not only am I getting paid for writing this, I’m taking a charitable tax exemption for sharing the video with you as well. -CC)

A shot of bourbon and this highlight video. That’s how a man starts his day.

I don’t know what comeback fights these other cats are trying to sell you as “the greatest ever,” but they are wrong. That honor belongs to Kazushi Sakuraba‘s war with Kestutis Smirnovas at K-1 Hero’s 6 — all of the evidence you need is right above if you don’t believe me. Still not convinced? Let me ask you a couple of quick questions:

Did their comeback fighters rebound from a “Falling Tree” KO?
Sakuaba did. Just forty seconds into his bout with Smirnovas, ol’ #39 was felled like a mighty oak then rattled with punches as his limp body crept out of the ring beneath the ropes. Rather than call the fight off, the referee, on sabbatical from a lucrative career producing snuff films, dragged “The Gracie Hunter’s” lifeless corpse back into the ring for another helping of abuse.

Did their comeback fighters score with a hail mary haymaker or a last-ditch submission?
Sakuraba didn’t. The tide wasn’t turned by a swing for the fences, nor did he snag an arm in a wild scramble. He simply fought back. Then he fought back some more. After absorbing a world of hurt that should have resulted in numerous stoppages, Sakuraba came out of rigor mortis with nothing but his will to fight intact. He gave as good as he got, hurting Smirnovas on the feet and finishing him on the mat with an armbar.

That’s a comeback fight, men.

Ben Goldstein
Boetsch vs. Okami could never be the greatest comeback fight in UFC history, because frankly, Boetsch vs. Okami doesn’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. For a fight to be considered the best anything, the stakes have to be high to begin with. That’s why Anderson Silva vs. Chael Sonnen at UFC 117 is my pick here.

Now, if you showed this fight to an MMA newbie, they probably wouldn’t get it; keep in mind that Silva vs. Sonnen was dominated by long stretches of one guy just lying on top of the other. And honestly, if these were two unknown fighters, we would have forgotten about this match the next week. What made the bout legendary is who these fighters were, and how profoundly the fight subverted our expectations.

Imagine buying a ticket to Rocky IV, and in the climactic battle, Rocky beats the shit out of Ivan Drago for eleven and a half rounds before the invincible Russian, with both his eyes swollen shut, throws a blind haymaker and turns Balboa’s lights out. Roll credits. That’s how bizarre this fight was. The guy who was supposed to get blown out was the one doing the blowing-out — until suddenly, he wasn’t. And that’s not to say that Chael Sonnen was anybody’s hero going into that fight. But he was a 4-1 underdog, and nobody was giving him a chance to win against the foreign champion who seemed more Machine than Man.

As I watched the fight with some buddies at a sports bar in New York — where every takedown and knockdown scored by Sonnen caused the patrons to erupt in stunned “OHHHHHH!”s — I realized that sports fans love to see an underdog do well, even if that underdog is one of the biggest heels in the sport. And no matter which team we’re rooting for, we like it when something completely unprecedented happens. But then, two minutes away from one of the greatest title upsets in the sport’s history, Sonnen’s Cinderella story abrupty ended with a triangle choke that nobody saw coming. And the champion was still the champion. And I guess we were supposed to feel happy about that.

Was the final result in itself that suprising? Of course not, considering Anderson Silva’s extra-dimensional brilliance and Chael Sonnen’s history of being submitted by Brazilians with that very same move. But no comeback fight has come close in terms of sheer drama, and I’m not sure we’ll see anything like it again.

Jefferey “Karmaatemycat” Watts

Have any of you guys ever been inadvertently kicked in the junk? I have, and it completely sucks. It can, in most cases, change the outcome of a fight! I would like to remind you of that fateful day in which Matt Hughes’s testicles were introduced to Frank Trigg’s knee during their second meeting at UFC 52. There was some crazy hype leading into this fight to begin with. Frank Trigg had really been laying on the smack talk leading up to their rematch, which was rather obvious when Mario Yamasaki brought them to the center of the cage. Then Hughes ate a knee to the groin a minute and ten seconds into the first round. I mean, that just sucks, but not as much as having the referee not see the low blow.

Then to make matters worse, Frank Trigg swarmed Matt Hughes! Trigg even established a full mount and was pounding away at Hughes. It was, to say the least, a very bad situation for Hughes as he proceeded to give Trigg his back so that he could survive the situation. A lot of guys are going to tell you this or that, but let me tell you rule #1 in a fight: Survive one situation so that you can attempt to survive the next. That’s exactly what Hughes did. I would wager a bet that Frank Trigg thought he had Matt Hughes locked in that RNC. God knows a lot of other people sure did. But being the Hughes nutthugger I am, I remember screaming and willing him to defend that choke. I was jumping off my couch, biting my lip, and cheering stereotypical MMA Fan stuff. I sure as shit did not expect Hughes to just grab Trigg and charge across the ring and slam him. Then he continued to beat the piss out of him, get his back, and rear naked choke Trigg.

To me, that’s always been a great example of fighting out of tough positions. Matt Hughes really showed his worth that night. I just don’t know a lot of welterweights at that time in the UFC who would have been able to take a shot to the groin, as well as all those shots from a mount, defend those submissions, and then have the energy to get up and slam his opponent, all while finishing him in the first. Just an all-around epic comeback. I mean, that shit’s right out of a Tarantino, Rodriguez film. Not even Xeno could argue that.

Jason Moles

Those are all great mentions, guys, but none compare to the exhilarating experience of watching the Immovable Object square off against the Unstoppable Force. I’m talking Roger Huerta vs. Clay Guida at the TUF 6 Finale back in ’07. “The Carpenter” dominated the opening round with his aggressive attack and breakneck pace. The fight didn’t stay on feet long until Clay took Roger to the mat and ground-and-pounded him into giving up his back, which lead to Guida’s rear naked choke attempt, and even more damage dished out to close out the round.

Round two started with Guida smothering “El Matador” like a wet blanket; with every “Toro!” shouted, the bull rushed in to gore his opponent. Without missing a beat, Guida continued his destruction of Huerta on the canvas, highlighted by a massive uppercut that sent him flying backward. Rocked and on Quiver Street, the horn at the end of the round saved Roger Huerta from certain doom.

And then something happened. I’m not sure if Huerta’s corner told him that Clay had sodomized his brother or what, because “El Matador” came out looking to hurt someone. In that first minute, he was more active and aggressive than GSP has been in all of his fights combined. (What? Rogan can jizz his pants about Tim Boetsch but I can’t get away with a little hyperbole?) Whatever, I digress. Huerta threw a perfectly timed knee, staggering the man who had just bullied him for the past ten minutes, and then swarmed Guida until he fell into the fetal position, allowing Huerta to sink in a rear naked choke to end the fight fifty-one seconds into the final round.

Jared Jones

Scott Smith is one of my favorite fighters. There, I said it. Sure, he fights with the strategy of a cokehead playing Tekken for the first time, but the man has been a part of some of the most poetic brawls in the history of the sport, and practically defines the comeback with his every performance. You know, except in his last three fights, or the Diaz fight, or the Lawler fight…

…anyway, you could make the case that his flash KO of Pete Sell was his greatest comeback, and I’d probably be inclined to agree with you. However, it was Smith’s third round drubbing of Benji Radach back at Strikeforce: Shamrock vs. Diaz that will forever remain one of my most treasured MMA moments.

After dropping Radach in the first round, Smith would rush in for the kill, only to find himself reeling from a perfectly placed counter right. Midway through the second, he was put on queer street compliments of a Radach left hook, and the end seemed all but imminent. As he slumped onto his stool heading in between rounds, Smith couldn’t help but tell his cornerman that he was in fact rocked, a revelation that most fighters are often too stubborn to admit. But as the Phoenix rises from the ashes of its former self, Smith would cough up some blood, wipe off his face, and enter the third round like a man possessed.

With just under 2 minutes to go, Mauro Ranallo remarked that Smith would need a knockout to win the fight. About ten seconds later, Smith would do just that, delivering a brutal right hand that sent Radach crashing to the mat in a pile. A follow-up right sealed the deal, and earned Smith the unofficial nickname of “The Comeback Kid,” a moniker he would prove worthy of in his come-from-behind victory over Cung Le the following December. Perhaps I’m just a sap, but watching Smith embrace his kids in the center of the cage after scoring the biggest victory of his career (at that point) was one of the more heartfelt moments I’ve seen in MMA, and made the fight all the more significant. At least in my eyes.

So what’s *your* favorite MMA comeback fight? Let us know in the comments section. If you have a question for a future Roundtable column, send it to [email protected], and we’ll send you a t-shirt if we decide to use it.