Name one thing in pro MMA more exciting than a flying-knee knockout like the one we saw from Chris Beal. Don’t give me gogoplata or calf slicer. Don’t lean back in your leather chair, chickory in hand, and proclaim that “five frenetic rounds of only the most elite cardiovascular athletes working feverishly but methodically to […]
Name one thing in pro MMA more exciting than a flying-knee knockout like the one we saw from Chris Beal. Don’t give me gogoplata or calf slicer. Don’t lean back in your leather chair, chickory in hand, and proclaim that “five frenetic rounds of only the most elite cardiovascular athletes working feverishly but methodically to […]
Getting released from the world’s premier mixed martial arts organization can leave even the manliest man feeling “like a hormonal girl” after a break-up.
Just ask former UFC lightweight Isaac Vallie-Flagg.
Following a 1-3 stint with the pr…
Getting released from the world’s premier mixed martial arts organization can leave even the manliest man feeling “like a hormonal girl” after a break-up.
Just ask former UFC lightweight Isaac Vallie-Flagg.
Following a 1-3 stint with the promotion from February of 2013 until December of 2014, the Greg Jackson’s MMA product was recently given his walking papers and left looking for work outside the historic Octagon.
In an exclusive interview with Bleacher Report, Vallie-Flagg opened up on his release, his future and the brotherhood he’s felt at Jackson’s gym.
Bleacher Report: Hey, Ike, thanks for taking the time to chat. How’s everything going, man? What’s your life like these days?
Vallie-Flagg: I’m actually heading over to the gym right now, just trying to find a new home, I guess, or a new place that will have me.
B/R: I’ve seen you campaigningBellator (Fighting Championships) and Titan (Fighting Championship) on Twitter. Is that your focus still—one of those two? Have you heard back from either?
V-F: Yeah, I’ve heard back from Titan, and we’re kind of waiting to hear back from Bellator. Both of them seem like they’re pretty good organizations, you know, so we’re waiting to hear back mostly from Bellator. Titan, like I said, I’ve started to speak to their matchmaker, Scott (Cutbirth), over there.
B/R:Very cool. It sounds like, and I don’t know if you’re holding out just to compare the offers, but it kind of sounds like you’re holding out for Bellator over Titan. Is that accurate?
V-F: I’m pro whoever wants to fight me. *laughs*
B/R: I should’ve figured that was your mentality!
V-F: Yeah, I mean, I have a few good years left in me, and I want to find a good home for the rest of my career. I don’t feel like I’m done fighting yet. I don’t feel like I looked horrible my last fight; I just made some bad decisions that kind of cost me the fight. That being said, I want to continue to fight until I feel like it’s my time to stop.
B/R: Once you do land in another organization, where does your focus go? Do you want to be the champ there for a long time and stay with them, or is your focus still getting back to the UFC?
V-F: I’d love to make a statement with whatever organization I’m in and either stay there as the champ, or if the UFC takes me back, they take me back. But my focus is just winning fights and doing so in a really decisive manner.
B/R: The UFC release, to me at least, was shocking on some level. You were a guy who always brought the fight, you never caused a fuss or problems and you were active and funny on Twitter, which is something I think they really do want to see. How did you first find out you were cut? How did you receive that news?
V-F: My manager spoke with Joe (Silva, UFC matchmaker). Obviously, I got the call from my manager, and we talked for a bit about everything. It bummed me out. I was hoping to have another fight or another chance with the UFC, but I understand the decision they made.
B/R: What was your initial reaction? You said you were “bummed,” but how did you cope with it right off the bat?
V-F: I think I sat in my room for a little bit and ate some chocolates. I think I did the whole hormonal-girl-getting-broken-up-with thing. I sat in my room and ate some chocolates and watched some TV. I worked really hard to get where I was at, and I lost this fight, so I was really sad about it.
B/R: Obviously, in my eyes—not being a fighter—it’s harder for me to judge, but the way I see it, there are a couple of reasons why it would eat at you. First, not being in the world’s premier organization—that’s a big deal. But just from a competitive standpoint, basically being told, “You’re not good enough for us anymore,” that had to be brutal, man. Did you start second-guessing your skills at any point when that happened?
V-F: I really didn’t with this one, because I know what I did wrong. I know the mistakes I made. A couple of them were that I had some personal issues earlier in the year, and I’m not trying to justify my losses because I lost, but I know what I did. Because of that, I still think I’m good enough.
I still think, given the right opportunity, I can really make a statement with world-class guys in the UFC. I know I made mistakes and so I never really thought I wasn’t good enough.
B/R: Coming off two losses, was it in the back of your head going into the (Matt) Wiman fight that if you lost that one, you’d be on the chopping block?
V-F: Oh, of course. I wanted to prepare myself for the worst, and I think I was this entire time. I had other teammates and people on Twitter and friends like, “You always bring a fight so they’re not going to cut you,” and I was hoping that was the truth, but I knew there was a possibility of getting cut.
B/R: Now that some time has passed, how do you feel about it now? You said you went through the “hormonal girlfriend” stage, but how are you feeling about it now?
V-F: I feel pretty positive that I still have some fight left in me, and I’m focusing on what’s ahead. I’m still bummed, you know? I went to the fights (UFC 182) and it was a little bittersweet. I got to watch (teammates) Donald Cerrone and Jon Jones and Paul Felder win, but at the same time, it was sad because I wasn’t going to be there anymore. It was a bummer, and I’m still, in some ways, pretty bummed about it, but I can’t dwell on it. I need to focus on what’s next.
B/R: You make an interesting point there. Training at Jackson’s MMA, you’re constantly surrounded by UFC fighters and fighters in other organizations as well. Have you been in the gym when somebody else got cut, when one of your teammates got cut? I feel like there’s a pretty good possibility that you’ve been around this situation before.
V-F: Sure. I was there when Leonard Garcia got cut and when Damacio (Page) got cut. I understand what happens when you lose fights, so when you see guys go through stuff in the gym, we’re all pretty tough guys, so a lot of times you don’t talk about it in the gym. But I’ve seen it. I understand what the deal is.
B/R: So does the brotherhood rally around them when they get cut, or is it just kind of unspoken—you go about your business and do your thing? What is that dynamic like?
V-F: Some guys definitely do come to your side and make you feel better about yourself, and some guys you just get a text from them and they say, “Sorry, bro.” There’s different guys who react differently to the situation.
B/R: Can you tell me who, specifically, helped you out and made you feel good about yourself?
V-F: Definitely Cub (Swanson). Cub Swanson’s one of my best friends. Donald Cerrone—in his own way—he’s definitely one of those guys who gives you the “Sorry, bro” text, but Donald is a great dude who always makes you feel good about yourself. And then, you know, Clay (Guida) is not in town, but Clay’s a guy who is a very good friend of mine, so he’s been making me feel and stay positive about everything.
B/R: I’m glad to hear that, man. It seems at Greg Jackson’s, you guys all have a great sense of pride training there, and it all translates to your friendships.
V-F: Yeah, for sure. The whole family aspect of this gym is true with the majority of the guys who have been here a long time. We view each other as family, so we treat each other as family.
B/R: And you hear a lot of people, recently, complain about different aspects of the UFC. You hear talk about fighter pay, the politics, the marketing of some fighters over others, stuff like that—was there any silver lining in being released? Was there any sense of relief?
V-F: I’ve always wanted to fight in the UFC, man. I can’t say there’s a silver lining to this. That’s been the place I’ve wanted to fight. Any business is going to have people that don’t like the way the business is run. Even guys who like the business aren’t going to like certain things about the way the business is run, but at the end of the day, the UFC is the premier place to fight the best fighters at this point.
B/R: Sure. I just want to jump back a second to something you mentioned earlier. You said you had some personal problems earlier in the year, and I hadn’t heard anything about that. Are you in a position to speak about it or is it personal info you’d rather not air out?
V-F: Some of it is kind of personal, and then, obviously, my father had cancer, so I was dealing with stuff like that. He went through remission, so thankfully that happened, you know?
But there was some other stuff I’d really rather not talk about.
B/R: That’s totally understandable. I also wanted to ask, in my research for the interview, I came across a few older articles saying you had a “troubled youth,” but I never really heard anybody talk too much about it or dive into it too much. I’ve never heard you talk about what was going on, so I was wondering: What did you have to overcome and what did you get through to eventually make it to the UFC?
V-F: With me personally, all my troubles were my own making. I come from a great family. My mom always loved me; there wasn’t any of that. My biological father wasn’t around, but I had a great stepfather and I had a great family life. I was just a trouble-maker for some reason and I got to hanging out with the wrong crowd. I started hitting the booze and the drugs pretty hard at a young age, and then I cleaned myself up.
All that kind of stuff is all stuff that was, like I said, of my own making. It’s not like I came from a bad background or a broken home. There are guys with a lot worse stories. I try not to focus on it. I don’t want to sound like a guy who’s whining about what’s happened to him in the past.
B/R: A lot of people stuck in that situation never get out of that rut. Luckily, you were able to make it out. What caused that shift, that motivation to change, for you?
V-F: I had good friends who helped me out of it. I had real good, solid role models. I think a judge intervened at one point and told me I could get locked up or I could go to a treatment center. Obviously, I took the softer, easier way. I wasn’t trying to be a hard ass. I went to a treatment center, and that kind of changed my life.
B/R: That’s excellent to hear. So many people don’t make that decision.
V-F: Yep. There are some hard-heads out there who don’t think they have a problem and they don’t ever change. I was lucky enough to figure out I had a real problem early on.
B/R: For sure. And you mentioned earlier that Donald Cerrone was a great guy, a great friend, who would help you out when you needed it. How does the gym react to him? He’s in the headlines right now for taking the Benson (Henderson) fight (January 18 at UFC Fight Night 59), but what do you guys think? Does it surprise you when he takes a fight on two weeks’ notice?
V-F: It’s not surprising, but then you have to realize: Cowboy is a crazy m———-r. That stuff, it’s not like he’s insane or anything, but there’s a craziness to him where he’s not afraid to take a fight on two weeks’ notice. He very much has that Cowboy mentality, and we all sit around and kind of laugh about it, say, “That’s Cowboy,” you know?
B/R: I figured as much! I just want to thank you for taking the time to talk today, Ike. I appreciate it, and I wish you all the luck moving forward.
V-F:Thanks, man. I appreciate it.
*All quotes were obtained firsthand unless otherwise noted.
Bad blood. It’s so often sold in MMA that it’s become a cliche. To have the UFC tell it, nearly every guy on the roster hates every other guy and they’re ready to beat them into a living death at the drop of a hat. But every now and then one of those blood feuds […]
Bad blood. It’s so often sold in MMA that it’s become a cliche. To have the UFC tell it, nearly every guy on the roster hates every other guy and they’re ready to beat them into a living death at the drop of a hat. But every now and then one of those blood feuds […]
Bad blood. It’s so often sold in MMA that it’s become a cliche.
To have the UFC tell it, nearly every guy on the roster hates every other guy and they’re ready to beat them into a living death at the drop of a hat.
But every now and t…
Bad blood. It’s so often sold in MMA that it’s become a cliche.
To have the UFC tell it, nearly every guy on the roster hates every other guy and they’re ready to beat them into a living death at the drop of a hat.
But every now and then one of those blood feuds comes along and, buddy, you better believe it’s real. It’s as real as it gets, if you will.
It goes beyond the usual promotional bluster of balding, middle-aged men in the closing moments of a pre-show and enters into the realm of the historic. It spills into a world where unsanctioned brawls and multiple pre-fight specials are produced, where people examine every step a man took to become embroiled in such a feud and ponder every step he’ll take when it’s over.
And when the final horn sounds and one guy’s hand is raised, there’s no mistaking it is over.
Unarmed combat will have that effect on someone; one of you is the better man and the other has to deal with it. It was proven on the basest level of humanity, where everything else was stripped away and it was two guys just fighting, and it all came out.
Jon Jones knows that going into UFC 182. You best believe Daniel Cormier does too.
Anyone who has been around this sport long enough has seen it happen time and again, this storied history of men who hate each other in the only sport on Earth where one can truly do something about it.
The earliest blood feud the UFC could promote was perhaps that of Royce Gracie and Ken Shamrock. Shamrock was a supremely confident, musclebound shoot fighter at a time when mixed martial artists were anything but mixed and were damn proud of it, while Gracie’s jiu-jitsu might as well have been a mystical power for how well understood it was in 1993. When the two met it led to some hostility.
Gracie choked Shamrock out, Shamrock offered up a kind of phantom tap and Gracie decided to leave no doubt by holding the choke a little longer. The two had words after the fact. That was at UFC 1, and some two years later the two met in a hotly anticipated (though highly unsatisfying) superfight rematch at UFC 5. It ended in a draw.
It was a long time before legitimate beef existed in the UFC again, at least to the point it was saleable to a larger audience. It’s pretty difficult to promote John McCain crusading against an entire sport in any meaningful way that can draw on pay-per-view.
Then Tito Ortiz showed up, and all of a sudden the UFC had more feuds than it had events on which to place the payoff bouts.
He had fights with Guy Mezger that were rich in hate-filled promotion before moving onto Frank Shamrock, and then onto Frank’s brother Ken. Ortiz’s best work could be boiled down to an overarching distaste for Shamrock’s famed Lion’s Den fight camp, the stuff dreams are made of in the fight game. It was a chance to continually line up opponents with similar name value or backgrounds and let the rivalry take on a life of its own.
Ortiz split the bouts with Mezger and lost to Frank, before trucking Ken Shamrock on three separate occasions. He was in his prime for much of that time and had one foot in the door of his Lion’s Den grudge while stepping into a room that contained another: Chuck Liddell.
Liddell was a former training partner who was rapidly rising through the light heavyweight division, but whom Ortiz had claimed was too good a pal to ever fight. Liddell saw it differently and the two found their way into the cage together after the type of protracted verbal battle that could only ever be born of a soured friendship.
Liddell obliterated Ortiz in just over five minutes, scorching him with one of the most iconic finishing sequences the sport has ever seen. They would rematch a couple of years later and, though it took a little longer, the result was the same. Liddell was now in his prime and would not be denied, ruthlessly wailing away on an Ortiz who hadn’t lost since their first meeting, putting an end to any debates over who was the better of the two.
Blood feuds were less prominent in the UFC for a few years after that. The evolution of the sport saw things shift more from hate-fueled warfare into competitive rivalries where simply being a better martial artist was enough. People loved the action regardless, so the spectacle of personal rivalry was less important.
However once Brock Lesnar entered the picture and was fortunate enough to meet up with Frank Mir, things changed. The fires of genuine bad blood were stoked again, and the sport had its first proper feud since Liddell and Ortiz.
Mir was tapped as Lesnar’s introduction to the UFC, and the 1-0 former WWE star seemed happy enough to meet the challenge. Their first bout saw him overwhelming Mir with ground-and-pound before succumbing to a crafty leglock, the exact type of thing a proud, hypercompetitive individual like Lesnar would never let go of without a chance for redemption.
He got it a little over a year later, when he was a UFC champion and Mir was challenging. In one of the more violent displays of offense from inside half-guard MMA has ever seen, Lesnar pounded Mir’s face for a round-and-a-half before the bout was stopped. He then gave one of the most radical, intense post-fight speeches in combat sports history while Mir was left to slip off into the night with a face that resembled the Toxic Avenger.
Nearly a year after the fact, Mir was still bitterly proclaiming he’d like to see his nemesis die in the Octagon. Some five years later, Lesnar is looking at returning to MMA after another pro wrestling stint and any reasonable expectation of his abilities would surely include a trilogy bout against Mir.
In the time since the best blood feuds of the 2000s, some modern rivalries have been born but seem to lack the sheer irresistibility of those that came beforehand. Rampage Jackson and Rashad Evans came closest, building their bout and their disdain by stewing as coaches on The Ultimate Fighter and getting to the point a genuine dislike had been fostered. They sold a million pay-per-views together even in spite of an ill-timed move of the payoff battle, which truly speaks to the magnitude of their quarrel.
Anderson Silva and ChaelSonnen got pretty far on Sonnen’s ability to fabricate heat, Ronda Rousey and Miesha Tate didn’t like each other and Nick Diaz and Georges St-Pierre did well on the challenger’s hostility towards the machine of MMA and its most pristine champion.
Still, each had an element of feeling manufactured. There was volatility there, but it was coming as much from a desire to get paid or perhaps get Twitter followers as it was from any type of raw hatred that would exist outside of the world of prizefighting.
However now, with Jones and Cormier, the bad blood that exists is palpable. It’s true. It exists in a space that harkens back to the early days of the sport or the boom period that happened only a few years ago.
It’s had a press conference brawl, top secret private exchanges, exchanges thought to be private but that were quickly made public and all manners of insult and nastiness. It’s impossible not to think Jones and Cormier would fight the same in an alley, at a birthday party, on the moon or in the Octagon.
They outright hate each other.
It’s real in a way the UFC could never hope to concoct and doesn’t often get the chance to replicate. These are historic, generational feuds that come around very rarely between men in the process of defining what it means to be the best at a given time.
UFC 182 is providing the next bout in that lineage, one that will be recorded a little further on Saturday night in Las Vegas.
That which has come before it has given reason to expect something memorable, something that will influence the course of this young sport as it enters a new year and as it extends into the years ahead.
Enjoy that it’s upon us. It could be a while before you see it again.
These are the times we should all hold dear. Six months from now, if things go south again and 2015 turns into a repeat of this year’s drudgery, MMA fans will look back in awe at Jon Jones vs. Daniel Cormier. The extended lead-up to Saturday night’s UFC 182 main event has been pure pleasure, […]
These are the times we should all hold dear. Six months from now, if things go south again and 2015 turns into a repeat of this year’s drudgery, MMA fans will look back in awe at Jon Jones vs. Daniel Cormier. The extended lead-up to Saturday night’s UFC 182 main event has been pure pleasure, […]
Whether it was Julio Cesar Chavez’s dominance through the 1980s and early ’90s, Oscar De La Hoya’s days as the Golden Boy in the 1990s and early 2000s or Saul “Canelo” Alvarez’s ongoing rise to supremacy, Mexico has always boasted its fair share of impressive boxers. “I keep saying this, but it’s true: the baddest […]
Whether it was Julio Cesar Chavez’s dominance through the 1980s and early ’90s, Oscar De La Hoya’s days as the Golden Boy in the 1990s and early 2000s or Saul “Canelo” Alvarez’s ongoing rise to supremacy, Mexico has always boasted its fair share of impressive boxers. “I keep saying this, but it’s true: the baddest […]
Getting released from the world’s premier mixed martial arts organization can leave even the manliest man feeling “like a hormonal girl” after a break-up. 
