With the recent announcement that Roy Nelson and Shane Carwin have been named as the coaches for the next installment of The Ultimate Fighter series, the MMA universe immediately launched into a full-blow orgasmic ticker-tape parade complete with tons of flying confetti and a marching band belting out death metal tunes. Once I heard the news, it was as if my life instantaneously turned into a beer commercial and the entire Potato Nation was invited. There was a rad pool-party, barbeque, a plethora of hotties, endless alcohol, and an overall quest for fun.
Well . . . . . actually, none of that happened. In fact, when word spread that Nelson and Carwin would helm the next season of TUF, it was officially filed under “WTF?” Judging from the comment section, most of the CP brethren didn’t care for the choices either. TUF is coming off a season that saw the ratings dip lower than they ever had, which could partially be blamed on the move to FX and the dreaded Friday night time slot. Regardless of the variables for the ratings drop, something drastic needs to be done, but is anybody really convinced that Carwin and Nelson are the answer to TUF’s slow and painful demise? Let’s start from the beginning and take a look back to see if this runaway train can be coaxed back onto the main rail.
The Season That Started it All
The inaugural season of TUF featured future Hall of Famers Chuck Liddell and Randy Couture as the competing coaches who would go mano y mano at the PPV after the season finale. For fans of the UFC, that was good enough for most to initially tune in for the Fertitta-funded experiment. It still remains the best crop of young talent and personalities to ever grace the show; future stars like Forrest Griffin, Stephan Bonnar, Josh Koscheck, Chris Leben, Diego Sanchez, Mike Swick, Kenny Florian, and Nate Quarry were all complete unknowns vying for stardom in a fledgling sport. You mix in the whole “fatherless bastard” angle and the show was off and running even before the awe-inspiring climax between (pre TRT) FoGrif and The American Psycho. Even before that, we were treated to the greatest speech of all time that has since been condensed into a few words. “Do you wanna be a fighter?” Though there were other memorable moments from the seasons that followed, Zuffa should have quit while they were ahead because it would never be this good again. The unrefined personification of immature talent, undeniable aspirations and gonzo-sized balls oozed from the boob tube during every episode.
With the recent announcement that Roy Nelson and Shane Carwin have been named as the coaches for the next installment of The Ultimate Fighter series, the MMA universe immediately launched into a full-blow orgasmic ticker-tape parade complete with tons of flying confetti and a marching band belting out death metal tunes. Once I heard the news, it was as if my life instantaneously turned into a beer commercial and the entire Potato Nation was invited. There was a rad pool-party, barbeque, a plethora of hotties, endless alcohol, and an overall quest for fun.
Well . . . . . actually, none of that happened. In fact, when word spread that Nelson and Carwin would helm the next season of TUF, it was officially filed under “WTF?” Judging from the comment section, most of the CP brethren didn’t care for the choices either. TUF is coming off a season that saw the ratings dip lower than they ever had, which could partially be blamed on the move to FX and the dreaded Friday night time slot. Regardless of the variables for the ratings drop, something drastic needs to be done, but is anybody really convinced that Carwin and Nelson are the answer to TUF’s slow and painful demise? Let’s start from the beginning and take a look back to see if this runaway train can be coaxed back onto the main rail.
The Season That Started it All
The inaugural season of TUF featured future Hall of Famers Chuck Liddell and Randy Couture as the competing coaches who would go mano y mano at the PPV after the season finale. For fans of the UFC, that was good enough for most to initially tune in for the Fertitta-funded experiment. It still remains the best crop of young talent and personalities to ever grace the show; future stars like Forrest Griffin, Stephan Bonnar, Josh Koscheck, Chris Leben, Diego Sanchez, Mike Swick, Kenny Florian, and Nate Quarry were all complete unknowns vying for stardom in a fledgling sport. You mix in the whole “fatherless bastard” angle and the show was off and running even before the awe-inspiring climax between (pre TRT) FoGrif and The American Psycho. Even before that, we were treated to the greatest speech of all time that has since been condensed into a few words. “Do you wanna be a fighter?” Though there were other memorable moments from the seasons that followed, Zuffa should have quit while they were ahead because it would never be this good again. The unrefined personification of immature talent, undeniable aspirations and gonzo-sized balls oozed from the boob tube during every episode.
Season 2
Season 2 saw Rich Franklin coach opposite Matt Hughes, and since both men competed at different weight classes, they were obviously not going to fight at the conclusion of the season. This was a prime example of the UFC throwing shit against the wall to see if it would stick by parading two somewhat charismatic champions in front of the camera with hopes of gathering ratings/fans for the upcoming UFC 56 PPV. Although it was undoubtedly a less thrilling season than that of its predecessor, it did introduce to another future light heavyweight champion in Rashad Evans, who won the contract competing as a heavyweight, as well as such names as Joe Stevenson, Melvin Guillard, and future pound-for-pound punching bag GOAT Keith Jardine. And if not for Jardine, the worldmay have never learned that “The Dean of Mean” would make no sense if his last name was Johnson, a valuable take home indeed.
Season 3
Season 3 is one of my personal favorites because of the preconceived notions about coaches: Tito Ortiz and Ken Shamrock. Tito was working the crap out of “The Huntington Beach Bad Boy” gimmick and wore the black hat pretty damn well even though he desperately wanted to be accepted by everyone. On the other hand, Shamrock was the MMA legend who competed in the very first UFC tournament and was the founder of his own training facility – The Lion’s Den. Shamrock was supposed to be the more seasoned coach, but chose to bring in weight lifting specialists and opted to rewatch videos of his UFC fights instead of training during an infamous episode, among other baffling decisions. Tito, conversely, came across as a guy that was genuinely committed to making his team better fighters through technique (believe it or not) and some crazy conditioning drills involving piggyback rides and vacant floors of Las Vegas hotels. In the end, Tito TKO’d Ken in just over a minute and Michael Bisping began his quest to piss off everybody around the world en route to winning the LHW contract.
Season 4 – The Comeback
Season 4 came upon us with the familiar sound of a giant turd smacking against a cinder block divider. Luckily for the UFC, a Ram-Manesque New Yorker with a perfectly timed overhand right came along and the dookie kind of stuck. I am not exactly sure who came up with the idea of bringing back washed up fighters mixed with a few coulda-shoulda guys coupled with a blend of has-beens and never-weres, but I am certain it must have sounded phenomenal during the pitch meeting. This was the only other season that featured an abundance of talent (albeit fleeting talent) like the first season. Shonie Carter, Patrick Côté, Matt Serra, Travis Lutter, Jorge Rivera, Pete Sell, *cough convicted rapist *cough* Jeremy Jackson, Scott Smith, Din Thomas, Mikey Burnett, and (everybody’s favorite) Chris Lytle. All of these guys were waaaaaay professional for any of the usual drama to become too much of an issue, aside from Shonie’s batshit craziness, that is. There were no head coaches but instead guest coaches, and all the fighters shared instructors Mark DellaGrotte as their striking guru and Marc Laimon as the perceived submission specialist. Season highlights include a goggled Burnett self-concussing himself while running through some sheet rock (forgetting that code requires studs every 16 inches), Serra calling Laimon a pussy for never stepping into the real world of fighting and of course . . . . . this. After the season there would be a fundamental plummet to mediocrity.
Season 5, or, the Aforementioned Plummet to Mediocrity
Season 5 was back to a basic grudge match between BJ Penn and Jens Pulver. The session would have been pretty tense if Pulver actually won his “welcome back to the UFC” fight months prior. Instead, Jens got KTFO by a wild-eyed nobody (at the time) named Joe Lauzon. How do you remedy this issue? Make Lauzon a participant during the season and have BJ make the guys raise their hands if they did NOT want to be on Pulver’s team. We were also introduced to the unrefined, yet potent, skills of Nate Diaz (along with his brotherly inspired “Fuck You” demeanor towards Karo Parisyan) and some Ping-Pong skills that would make Forrest Gump puke. So, basically the entire thing resembled a trash can fire without the Doo Wop.
On the next page: Disgusting pranks, trans-Atlantic rivalry, and a pugilist named Slice.
When UFC 148 was put into the record books on Saturday night, Anderson Silva’s TKO win over Chael Sonnen wasn’t the only compelling story of the evening. In the night’s co-main event, Hall of Fame fighter Tito Ortiz put on a less-than-stellar perf…
When UFC 148 was put into the record books on Saturday night, Anderson Silva‘s TKO win over Chael Sonnen wasn’t the only compelling story of the evening. In the night’s co-main event, Hall of Fame fighter Tito Ortiz put on a less-than-stellar performance against former champion Forrest Griffin.
The showing would be the last of Tito’s career, as “The People’s Champ” announced that his trilogy-ending battle with Griffin would also be the final fight in his life of pugilistic endeavors.
Although Griffin looked like a shell of himself during the fight, most people will overlook that fact simply because Ortiz looked even worse. Early in the second round, Ortiz could be seen taking heavy breaths and being forced to slow down the pace.
The Huntington Beach Bad Boy has seen UFC combat 27 times, and in the process, won championships and broke records. However, sporting an embarrassing 1-7-1 record through his final nine fights, you’ve got to think that Ortiz’s decision to hang up the gloves is overdue.
Although he was only 33 at the time, many would argue that Ortiz should have called it quits when he required an intensive back surgery in 2008. Since returning to action, the former light heavyweight champion has simply not looked the same, while turning in a 1-5 record.
Ortiz has many accomplishments to his credit, which includes five consecutive title defenses, 15 organizational wins and a trio of wins over fellow Hall of Fame fighter Ken Shamrock.
Like Ortiz, Shamrock would only win one time in his final nine fights with a major organization. Continuing to fight well beyond his physical prime, fans have criticized Shamrock for not knowing when to call it quits. One can only speculate as to the parallels that will be drawn between the two careers.
Will history be kind to Tito’s legacy, or will he be remembered for the losses that plagued his final years? Unfortunately, I think the latter is more likely. In any situation, Ortiz is a pioneer of this business, who should be honored for his contributions to the sport that we love.
(Oh, Victoria. You’re *never* going to finish the choke from that angle. / Full gallery is after the jump.)
On July 7th, Tito Ortiz will be inducted into the UFC Hall of Fame, fight his last three rounds in the Octagon, then retire. In honor of this impending bit of MMA history, we’ve rounded up 20 of our all-time favorite photos of the Huntington Beach Bad Boy — some classic, and some you may not have seen before. Check ’em out in the gallery below, and if we’ve left out your favorite, shoot us a link in the comments section. Enjoy…
On July 7th, Tito Ortiz will be inducted into the UFC Hall of Fame, fight his last three rounds in the Octagon, then retire. In honor of this impending bit of MMA history, we’ve rounded up 20 of our all-time favorite photos of the Huntington Beach Bad Boy — some classic, and some you may not have seen before. Check ‘em out in the gallery above, and if we’ve left out your favorite, shoot us a link in the comments section. Enjoy.
Today on the CagePotato Roundtable, we’re taking a trip through the magical world of make-believe! Which MMA fighter would you scrap with if reality was no object? Would it be a hated heel? A personal idol? An undersized Japanese lady who you might actually have a puncher’s chance against? Joining us this week is Vince Mancini, the esteemed editor of FilmDrunk.com and occasionalCP commenter. Follow his shit @FilmDrunk, and if you have a topic idea for a future Roundtable column, please send it to [email protected].
Saying that I could fight any MMA fighter implies that I also have the option not to do so, and I would exercise that option. You see, I’m what scientists call “a pussy.” I don’t like my chances in a scrap against anyone, trained or not. In that way I’m kind of like the anti-Krazy Horse: I’ll back down from men, women, children, retarded people…
But if I had to throw down with an MMA fighter of my choosing, it’s going to be Bob Sapp, all day. The reasons are plentiful. As stated earlier, any trained fighter is going to wreck me, badly, so I’m certainly not going to pick someone smaller than me or a female — why give my detractors [friends] more to mock? No, I’m going to pick an intimidating juggernaut, and few fit that bill better than Bob Sapp. If I lose the fight — which is pretty much the only possibility — non-MMA fans [again, my friends] will look at pictures of him, then back at my unimposing frame, and accept the loss as a forgone conclusion while giving me eternal props for climbing into the cage with such a monstrosity.
Actual MMA fans tuning into the fight will already be expecting to see someone turtle-up and play dead before the first punch connects, so they won’t be disappointed if I take a page out of “The Beast’s” own playbook and hit the canvas prematurely. All of Sapp’s recent battles have been farces, so at least no one will be expecting a real fight; I’d hate to disappoint the crowd.
(I got winner.)
Today on the CagePotato Roundtable, we’re taking a trip through the magical world of make-believe! Which MMA fighter would you scrap with if reality was no object? Would it be a hated heel? A personal idol? An undersized Japanese lady who you might actually have a puncher’s chance against? Joining us this week is Vince Mancini, the esteemed editor of FilmDrunk.com and occasionalCP commenter. Follow his shit @FilmDrunk, and if you have a topic idea for a future Roundtable column, please send it to [email protected].
Saying that I could fight any MMA fighter implies that I also have the option not to do so, and I would exercise that option. You see, I’m what scientists call “a pussy.” I don’t like my chances in a scrap against anyone, trained or not. In that way I’m kind of like the anti-Krazy Horse: I’ll back down from men, women, children, retarded people…
But if I had to throw down with an MMA fighter of my choosing, it’s going to be Bob Sapp, all day. The reasons are plentiful. As stated earlier, any trained fighter is going to wreck me, badly, so I’m certainly not going to pick someone smaller than me or a female — why give my detractors [friends] more to mock? No, I’m going to pick an intimidating juggernaut, and few fit that bill better than Bob Sapp. If I lose the fight — which is pretty much the only possibility — non-MMA fans [again, my friends] will look at pictures of him, then back at my unimposing frame, and accept the loss as a forgone conclusion while giving me eternal props for climbing into the cage with such a monstrosity.
Actual MMA fans tuning into the fight will already be expecting to see someone turtle-up and play dead before the first punch connects, so they won’t be disappointed if I take a page out of “The Beast’s” own playbook and hit the canvas prematurely. All of Sapp’s recent battles have been farces, so at least no one will be expecting a real fight; I’d hate to disappoint the crowd.
The other benefit of course is that any other fighter would be trying to, you know, win. That would entail hurting me in some manner, and frankly I don’t care for that. With Sapp I’m running a low risk of him coming out with any intention of actually fighting, and since cardio would be my only advantage, I’d hope to run around long enough for him to double over in exhaustion and tap out from the thought of taking a punch.
So assuming I had to climb into the cage with anyone it would definitely be Anderson Silva. Am I crazy? Yes, but that is a different story for me to work out with my family and friends. I would fight “The Spider” because, simply put, there is no one on the face of the earth who has fucked people up in so many creative and head-scratching ways. If I am to be remembered for anything in the fight game, it will be for getting my ass kicked, so why not do it in style? I can’t imagine a better dance partner for that than Anderson Silva.
But let’s be real, Anderson would enter the ring, bow all over the place, and then probably get super angry at the insulting level of competition placed before him (putting me in elite company with Patrick Cote, Thales Leites, and Demian Maia). Perhaps he would call back one of his kicks from the Leites fight that would humiliate me even further. He might go into his Keanu Reeves “Matrix”-mode and clown me that way. Even if I shot testosterone directly into my balls for weeks on end, it still might not help me out too much.
In conclusion, if I’m going to fight an MMA fighter, I want to lose in epic fashion, and as the record number of hyperlinks above shows, ain’t no one better to order up a beating from than Anderson “The Spider” Silva.
As a big fan of Fight Club, hardly a day goes by that I don’t think about the eternal question, “if you could fight anyone, who would it be?” The contents of my list changes, but it’s rarely less than ten people, and always includes Ted Nugent (that stupid soul patch, GAAAH!), Screech, and someone from the DMV. But when Goldstein asked me if I could fight any MMA FIGHTER in the world who would it be, the new modifier threw me for a loop. After all, I fantasize about punching people, not getting my ass kicked. And while I’m pretty sure I could take most aging musicians, former child actors, and overweight city employees, I’d probably be out of my league against any fighter approaching professional level.
I started thinking of a fighter you’ve heard of that I might conceivably beat. Bob Sapp? Great if he’s taking his usual dive, but if he changes his mind, or if he even accidentally falls on me, I’m screwed. Out of all the seasons of The Ultimate Fighter, there has to be one dude I could take, so who was the worst? Andy Wang? Allen “Monstah Lobstah” Berube? Those guys would probably be my bottom two, but even then, my chances of actually winning would be 50-50 at best (and that’s being wildly generous). And even if I did win, so what? I’d either prove that I could hang with the worst or get beaten up by a guy everyone thinks is a bum, neither of which option sounds particularly attractive.
Point is, if you’re me, you’re probably going to get beaten up in any fantasy MMA match-up. So what you really want is someone you wouldn’t mind getting beaten up by. And I think the obvious choice here is Gina Carano, because she’s super pretty.
Provided she didn’t pull out at the last minute for some never-revealed lady troubles, here’s how I see the fight going down: I keep my guard high to weather her striking. At some point, she over-commits on a punch and I slip it and bull rush her, using my size advantage and rugby experience to drag her to the ground. From there, I’d posture up in her guard, using the palms of my hands cupped against her ample breasts to support my weight. Being careful not to give up an arm bar, I’d rain down kisses from the top and grind my boner into her crotch until the cops came. I’m telling you, Penthouse, it was the craziest night of my life. Wait, what were talking about again?
There have only been a few times in my life that I wanted to jump into my television to join the broadcast and kick somebody’s ass. When I was a kid, it happened during the movie Bloodsport when Ogre Ray Jackson got his ass handed to him by Chong Li. Not that I was going to be able to help him since I was a child, but dammit I was going to try. Another instance of my warped suspended reality happens practically every other weekend because Top Gun is a staple on all syndicated channels. Each time the volleyball scene comes on, I want to step through my TV screen and knock everybody out. Not just Cruise or Kilmer or the guy that lowered the net so 5’ 2” Maverick would look like he could actually spike the ball. I want to throw haymakers on all the extras, cameramen and even the craft services personnel for being part of that steaming pile of elephant shit.
Though both instances have made we want to enter the boob-tube, I have never had the feeling overwhelm me like it did while watching UFC 83 during the Nate Quarry vs. Kalib Starnes fight. If you don’t remember that contest, Starnes basically back-pedaled at a brisk pace for the entire 15 minutes and (much like Maverick after he killed Goose) he refused to engage. It got to the point that Quarry was high-step running in comedic fashion and even went “full retard” by crossing his arms in front of his head while punching himself in the face. That is why, if I could fight any MMA athlete, I would pick Kalib Starnes.
For any of the CP writers to say we would stand a snowball’s chance in hell of coming out victorious against a professional mixed martial artist — with the exceptions of Karma, Elias Cepeda, and Chris Colemon’s upcoming bout against Bob Sapp — is crazy talk. However, if Starnes showed up for a reverse track meet while I was across the cage, I might have a chance. I, too, have the ability to jog at a mediocre pace for five minutes per round, and I could totally do that with a one-minute rest in between. Though most likely he would turn my face into goulash.
I initially wanted to fight Georges St. Pierre because I am pretty sure he smells excellent and his skin is silky smooth from all the moisturizing, but upon further review, I think I may just ask GSP if he wants to play some beach volleyball. In the meantime, I will be vigorously training five minutes at a time for my anticipated scrap with Kalib Starnes.
Completely unrelated, but you know what I’d ban if I could? Well, duh: Putting your organization’s champion in non-title fights in his weight class. But you know what else I’d ban? Fighters who justify picking easy fights by rambling on about “how much it would mean to fight a legend,” or “because he was my hero and it would be an honor to fight him,” or any similar nonsense. Just admit it: You aren’t out to prove how much you’ve progressed by beating your hero when he’s past his prime; if anything, you’re regressing by fighting an older, less-diverse fighter than your last opponent. You don’t see your childhood hero — you see an easy W.
Rather, I would fight Ken Shamrock because the fight would be special for me. See, the first MMA article I ever published was a guest contribution to CagePotato on October 18, 2010, about Ken Shamrock’s victory over Jonathan Ivey in my current city of Lafayette, Louisiana. That article was my first step towards eventually getting hired, where I’ve quietly been ruining your opinions of this website ever since. Because of that, Shamrock will always hold a special place in my heart, and it would be an honor and a privilege to be in the cage with him.
Oh, and one more thing: I am exempt from my opening rant because I clearly said fighter, not writer. Suck it, Dan Hardy. *drops microphone*
Josh Hutchinson
I’m going to be completely honest with you guys right now. “Do I want to be a fucking fighter?” Shit no. It looks like a lot of work, and that’s not really my bag. Now, had this question been asked to me in my late teens or early twenties, I probably would have said Fedor, Hendo, or something as equally stupid. You see, in those days I wouldn’t have turned down a fight with any living creature on the planet, be it an MMA champ, a grizzly bear, or God damn Superman. At that point in my life there was no such thing as kryptonite for this guy. Well, I was wrong. Two construction injuries requiring surgery later, and I’m less of a Spartan and more of a walking bag of meat just trying to survive another alcohol fueled week. What I’m trying to say is, I’ve learned my limits and that has certainly helped to fuel my decision for this week’s Roundtable.
Which brings me to my choice in Dana White. Yes, the question was “which MMA Fighter do you want to fight,” but as I illustrated above I’ve got around the same chance of winning a fight against an actual MMA fighter as Bob Sapp does. [Ed. note: And that’s Sapp reference #4, which means we’ve met our quota.] Beyond that, as General Douglas MacArthur famously said, “Rules are mostly made to be broken and are too often for the lazy to hide behind”. See, I’m just trying not to be lazy. Also, as the face of the biggest MMA promotion in the world, he should be eligible for this type of list in my opinion.
Why Dana White? Is it because he wants to “fuck” my favorite comedic MMA site, because he plays favorites with fighters (see: Dan Hardy, Jon Jones, etc.), because he is single handedly the worst ambassador for our beloved sport, that stupid smug face he always has, or a combination of those, and many more reasons? I’m leaning toward the latter. Do I think I would win? Highly doubtful, but I’d give it a try.
In the vein of breaking down this non-fictional fight, I have an inch or two on him, but he has at least 50-60 pounds on me. I’m lanky as they come so he would have the reach, but when we look at styles, I would give his elite pedigree in boxerciseing the nod over my semi-pro style of bar-fighting. Endurance is a bitch.
So yes, my choice is Dana White, if only because he is the biggest name that I might have a chance against, and he pisses me off. While this would probably turn out to be a regrettable statement, I’d even fight just to get Cage Potato’s short-lived press credentials back. Although, I would settle for him just making all main events five rounds, and not just a select few. The ball’s in your court, Mr. President.
(My qualifications? HERE’S my stinking qualifications!)
It looks like we’ll have to start drafting up new t-shirts to falsely promise you guys, because according to a recent interview with MMAFighting, UFC President Dana White was rather frank about his desire for both former light heavyweight champion Tito Ortiz and former lightweight and welterweight champion B.J. Penn to be placed in the UFC Hall of Fame in the near future. Though the jury is still out on whether or not Penn will return to the octagon following his hasty retirement in the aftermath of UFC 137, DW had nothing but positives to say about “The Prodigy” when asked on the possibility of his placement in the HOF:
Definitely. The thing about B.J. Penn is that what he brought to the lightweight division, there was a point in time when we first bought this company when people thought guys in the lighter weight divisions couldn’t be stars and couldn’t see pay-per-views and couldn’t cross over. B.J. Penn was definitely that first crossover guy for us. He’ll be back. It’s tough, when there are 16,000 people in the arena chanting your name, it’s tough to walk away from that. B.J. Penn is a fighter. You hear some of these guys, and Tito was one of these guys, he said he wanted to be famous. B.J. Penn is a fighter.
So there you have it, Penn will join long-time rival Matt Hughes, as well as Randy Couture, Ken Shamrock, Dan Severn, Mark Coleman, Royce Gracie, Chuck Liddell, and Tapout co-founder Charles “Mask” Lewis in that deluxe octagon in the sky. After a pair of unsuccessful title bids at 155, Penn won the welterweight title in his welterweight debut by defeating the then untouchable Hughes by first round rear-naked choke at UFC 46. Penn would vacate the UFC shortly thereafter, citing a lack of challenging fights, and would not taste UFC gold again until beating the ever-loving shit out of Joe Stevenson at UFC 80 to claim the vacant lightweight strap. He would defend the belt three times until being upended by Frankie Edgar at UFC 112.
When addressing the possibility of Tito Ortiz joining those illustrious ranks, White did not shy away from the pair’s well-documented rocky history, and in fact stated that, in retrospect, it helped make the UFC what it is today.
Hear more from The Baldfather after the jump.
(My qualifications? HERE’S my stinking qualifications!)
It looks like we’ll have to start drafting up new t-shirts to falsely promise you guys, because according to a recent interview with MMAFighting, UFC President Dana White was rather frank about his desire for both former light heavyweight champion Tito Ortiz and former lightweight and welterweight champion B.J. Penn to be placed in the UFC Hall of Fame in the near future. Though the jury is still out on whether or not Penn will return to the octagon following his hasty retirement in the aftermath of UFC 137, DW had nothing but positives to say about “The Prodigy” when asked on the possibility of his placement in the HOF:
Definitely. The thing about B.J. Penn is that what he brought to the lightweight division, there was a point in time when we first bought this company when people thought guys in the lighter weight divisions couldn’t be stars and couldn’t see pay-per-views and couldn’t cross over. B.J. Penn was definitely that first crossover guy for us. He’ll be back. It’s tough, when there are 16,000 people in the arena chanting your name, it’s tough to walk away from that. B.J. Penn is a fighter. You hear some of these guys, and Tito was one of these guys, he said he wanted to be famous. B.J. Penn is a fighter.
So there you have it, Penn will join long-time rival Matt Hughes, as well as Randy Couture, Ken Shamrock, Dan Severn, Mark Coleman, Royce Gracie, Chuck Liddell, and Tapout co-founder Charles “Mask” Lewis in that deluxe octagon in the sky. After a pair of unsuccessful title bids at 155, Penn won the welterweight title in his welterweight debut by defeating the then untouchable Hughes by first round rear-naked choke at UFC 46. Penn would vacate the UFC shortly thereafter, citing a lack of challenging fights, and would not taste UFC gold again until beating the ever-loving shit out of Joe Stevenson at UFC 80 to claim the vacant lightweight strap. He would defend the belt three times until being upended by Frankie Edgar at UFC 112.
When addressing the possibility of Tito Ortiz joining those illustrious ranks, White did not shy away from the pair’s well-documented rocky history, and in fact stated that, in retrospect, it helped make the UFC what it is today:
Despite my personal problems with Tito, he belongs in. He was the champion when we first bought this thing. The fact that Tito is still here, Tito and I have had our moments, but it doesn’t change what he did for the company. The beef between me and Tito, Chuck and Tito, the fact is, that played a huge role in helping making this thing as big as it is.
In case you’ve all forgotten, there was a time when Tito Ortiz was more than just a punching bag for future and former world champions and the butt of endless commentary based jokes. After decisioning Wanderlei Silva and winning the light heavyweight championship at UFC 25, Ortiz defended the strap more times than any fighter in the division’s history (5), scoring victories over the likes of Evan Tanner, Yuki Kondo, and Vladimir Matyushenko. Recently, Ortiz announced that his trilogy-completion bout against Forrest Griffin at UFC 148 would be his last bout as a professional.
And even Donald Trump will tell you that Ortiz is a hell of a businessman. Aside from being one of the most consistent pay-per-view draws in the promotion’s history, Ortiz’s trilogy with Ken Shamrock as well as his epic pair of bouts with “The Iceman” have been responsible for more UFC merchandising profits than any other fighter can lay claim to.
So what do you think of these additions to the HOF, Potato Nation? And secondly, who do you think deserves a place in the Hall of Fame beside these two gents in the near future? Be advised, the first person to say Jon Jones is going to get their ass whipped.
The time of Tito Ortiz is drawing to an end. For a fan of the sport like myself, it is honestly hard to believe. I remember when he started making waves, many years ago. He was young, mean and totally disrespectful to his opponents, treating them all w…
The time of Tito Ortiz is drawing to an end.
For a fan of the sport like myself, it is honestly hard to believe. I remember when he started making waves, many years ago. He was young, mean and totally disrespectful to his opponents, treating them all with equal disdain.
And he attracted a rabid fan base because of this. They loved him and lived vicariously through him.
When he finally claimed what was then the UFC middleweight title, the legions of Tito-maniacs crawled out of the woodwork, crowing loud and proud.
They had their champion, and nothing would ever be the same.
His career since those early days has had ups and downs, as any career in the combative sports will. He has been seen as both a fighter who could not be beaten and as a fighter who will be beaten all the time.
In the early days, when he was winning far more than he was losing, he did not seem to care one bit about his detractors. He wore his inflammatory t-shirts after each victory, accompanied with his grave-digger finale and too damn bad if you didn’t like it.
After all, he was Tito Ortiz, reigning light heavyweight champion, and as he was quick to say: “no one is fading me.”
But then things changed.
He lost his title to Randy Couture, a man he and others figured would fold under the heat. Randy was an “old man” and, as we now know, Tito likes to fight legendary fighters who are long in the tooth. He made a name off Ken Shamrock, goading the Hall of Fame fighter into the cage with him on three separate occasions and they never should have fought at all, truth be told.
Randy Couture was not the same kind of man as Ken Shamrock.
Couture was in good shape and his body had not experienced the wear and tear that Shamrock’s had.
He was also an excellent wrestler who had no fear of being punched or kicked, thanks in no small part to his five-round war with Pedro Rizzo in the heavyweight division.
But you couldn’t tell that to Tito before that night. Ortiz had his fans (of which he is perhaps the biggest one) behind him. To them, the idea that he would lose to an old man was silly.
But then he lost. Scratch that; he didn’t just lose, he got embarrassed.
Couture was the new champion, and the era of “Tito the Unbeatable” was suddenly over.
These things happen in the fight game. Fighters take turns playing the roles of both the hammer and the nail. It’s the life they choose, riding the highs of victory one moment and enduring the lows of defeat the next.
I personally don’t think Tito had any problems with the losses, because when you look back at his career, he’s lost to some of the very best in the division. There is no shame in that, for sure.
The pathos of Ortiz’s story lies in the fact that he doesn’t seem to understand why so many people love to see him lose.
Sometimes a fighter and his persona are two totally different things. A fighter, in order to get noticed, decides to play the role of “black hat,” which attracts viewers who want to see him lose.
Ali did this, but with such a sense of humor and style that we all knew it was an act. Aside from Joe Frazier, his opponents knew it as well.
Ortiz never seemed to get this and, if he did, he didn’t make a clear enough distinction with the fans. I am not calling him slow or stupid, not at all. The fact remains that he still seems sadly shocked when he is the recipient of the boos and harsh talk.
He shouldn’t be surprised at all.
Recently, Ortiz decided to cast aside his old bad boy moniker in exchange for something new.
“The People’s Champion: Tito Ortiz.”
For all of his attempts at personal growth, this move not only smacks of desperation, but arrogance as well. If a fighter has a nickname like that, he better not only be beloved, but also a man who stands for something far greater than mocking defeated opponents.
His next and final opponent, Forrest Griffin, could claim to be “The People’s Champion” and would have a much greater chance of it being true than Ortiz could ever dream of.
Once again, no one should be surprised.
The sadness of it all is found in the fact that Tito honestly seems mystified as to why he has any detractors at all.
Tito chose to ride the black horse early on in his career and it was a dandy animal, a war horse that loved to charge fast and heavy. But he ran that horse into the ground long ago, now he’s walking it to the finish line.
There is no sense in acting like he didn’t enjoy his time trampling his opponents under those hooves, because we all know he loved it and his fans loved it, too.
But fans in this sport are fickle and he has much less of them than he did when he was champion. When he began to lose, people cheered for anyone who seemed anti-Ortiz, paying and praying they would see Tito be humbled yet again.
Perhaps, after his final fight is done, he should simply tip his black hat to the crowd and walk away, knowing he made the kind of money he hoped for when he stepped away the first time after UFC 40.
If not, then he can take comfort in the fact that while, in the end, he may have been disliked more than he was loved, he was indeed a polarizing figure and, for many, being hated is better than being forgotten.
When 
