http://www.sportsline.com/columns/story/10038193
COLUMBUS, Ohio -- The president of UFC would kick your ass.
His name is Dana White, he's a former amateur boxer and he's planning soon to fight one of Ultimate Fighting Championship's baddest men -- former light heavyweight champ Tito Ortiz -- in a private sparring session. Why? Just because.
The lead referee of UFC would kick your ass. His name is "Big John" McCarthy, he goes 6-foot-4 and 260 pounds, and in his spare time he's an LAPD officer who trains other officers how to kick ass.
If this is the president and a referee of UFC, then you know the fighters of UFC can kick some major ass. Late Saturday night and into Sunday morning, I saw it for myself when "UFC 68: The Uprising" came to Nationwide Arena. More than a million homes bought this fight for roughly $40 each on pay-per-view, but I watched from just outside the Octagon -- close enough to get hit by the flying blood.
I'm hooked. And if you've read me at all, you know I'm not hooked by much of anything. Show me a sport, and I'll make fun of some part of it. The unethical coach, the egomaniac player, the stupid GM. I don't like anything or anybody. I'm proud of that.
After taking in my first UFC event, I can still say I don't like anything. Because I don't. I don't like UFC, either.
I freaking love it.
Read on, please. But I've got to warn you. I'm going to write longer than I normally do. We have a lot to talk about.
• • •
The Gizzard was willing to die in the Octagon, and he almost got his wish.
The Gizzard, a pasty Indianan named Jason Gilliam, was fighting Jamie Varner in the first bout when he found himself on the wrong end of a choke hold. Choking is legal in UFC, with fights called off when a fighter taps his opponent or the mat in submission.
The Gizzard did neither.
Whatever window of time Gilliam had between surrender and consciousness came and went without any tapping. Finally the referee -- not McCarthy -- ended the fight with The Gizzard maybe 20 seconds from death. How do I know he was 20 seconds from death? I don't. But his face was purple. One of his feet had been crammed almost completely through the chain-link fence. He wasn't moving. He wasn't breathing.
Varner, whose nickname is "The Worm," climbed off The Gizzard and pantomimed a sleeping chicken before launching into a solid rendition of "The Worm" dance. Behind him, medical personnel were prying the mouthpiece out of Gilliam's clenched teeth.
It was over in 94 seconds. And Varner wasn't happy about that.
"I just wanted to throw down," said Varner, who had double-wrapped his right hand in anticipation of doing some heavy punching. "I was disappointed it didn't go longer."
I freaking love UFC.
Only a tragedy can derail this train.
The UFC is everything professional wrestling once was, only with real punches, sleeper holds and blood. World Wrestling Entertainment calls its top shows WWE Raw, which is a joke. The WWE isn't raw. It's Broadway on steroids. It's a farce. Scripted.
Which is why UFC has blown past. Fake violence isn't enough anymore. People want the real thing, and UFC is providing it in a distilled way that boring boxing can't. UFC grossed more than $220 million in pay-per-view in 2006, the most lucrative year for any event -- wrestling and boxing included -- in PPV history.
And 2007 will be better, because UFC is heading east. Founded in Las Vegas and nurtured out West, UFC made its Midwest debut Saturday and hits Texas next month for UFC 69. After that it's on to England. Already amateur UFC gyms are popping up around the country, grassroots dens of mayhem siphoning off talent once drawn to boxing.
UFC is going to become a miniature version of NASCAR unless something horrible happens, and by horrible I mean a scandal outside the ring or a death in it. Already UFC has had one fighter (Stephen Bonnar) caught using steroids. Bonnar admitted it, served his suspension and is back. End of scandal.
The other worry is UFC's Las Vegas roots. Although main-event fighters are believed to make more than $1 million per PPV fight, White keeps his finances a secret. Not good, considering UFC is co-owned by Las Vegas casino magnates Frank and Lorenzo Fertitta. That raises eyebrows. We know the score. We saw Bugsy.
As for what goes on inside the Octagon, no fighter has been seriously hurt -- a broken arm or nose doesn't count -- but if someone dies in there, the outcry will get loud. A decade ago, the UFC survived Sen. John McCain's attempts to get it banned in the United States, but a death would give grand-standing busybodies like McCain another shot.
Meantime, we have spectacles like Drew McFedries-Martin Kampmann. Kampmann is a middleweight from Denmark, and after 30 seconds his Nordic face had been punched into a bruised tomato. This'll be over soon, I wrote in my notebook.
Right idea.
Wrong winner.
Kampmann took McFedries to the ground, snaked an arm under his chin and began tightening like a python on a pigeon. The referee pulled one of those moves you see in pro wrestling, lifting McFedries' arm once, then twice and watching it fall to the mat.
But this was real. McFedries was out cold. The referee tapped Kampmann's shoulder to end it, but got no response. He smacked Kampmann's shoulder. Nothing. Finally he shoved Kampmann off McFedries, whose legs were beginning to convulse.
McFedries ultimately walked out of the ring, but that was a scary moment.
I freaking love UFC.
• • •
Ken Griffey Jr. was in the house. First row. So were a handful of his teammates from the Cincinnati Reds, including Adam Dunn. And the people at Nationwide Arena didn't care.
More than 19,000 people -- the second-biggest indoor sporting event in Ohio history -- paid between $100 and $400 to watch UFC 68. The $3 million-plus gate broke the previous arena record of $2.5 million set in 2005 by the Rolling Stones and was more than 10 times the state's record for boxing, a $250,000 event organized in 2001 by Don King.
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UFC is no joke. It's not a fringe sport, not a fad. More than 1.7 million people viewed UFC 68's 2½-minute trailer on YouTube.com. It has its own video game, and HBO is considering a partnership. This is much bigger than Griffey or Dunn, who weren't nearly as popular with autograph-seekers as other UFC fighters in attendance.
One such fighter, heavyweight Andrei Arlovski, watched from ringside. Three years ago, he beat up Tim "The Maine-iac" Sylvia and then leered for the cameras, revealing a mouthpiece whose canines had been sharpened into fangs.
I freaking love UFC.
• • •
Rich Franklin trains at my gym.
Two months ago, that didn't mean a thing. Someone told me about him, and my response was, "Who's Rich Franklin?"
Not any more. Rich Franklin is one charismatic -- but scary -- human being. He has a master's degree in education, and before becoming a full-time UFC fighter, he taught high school math in Cincinnati. Franklin is one of the scores of fighters Dana White and his staff find all over the world, going everywhere for top talent like Barnum & Bailey officials scour the world for new acts for the big top.
UFC is not a circus, however, and Rich Franklin is no clown. He entered the Octagon with bulging eyes, and by the end of the first round Jason MacDonald's face was pulp. The second round ended with Franklin straddling MacDonald, pummeling his face with lefts and rights, looking at the referee to stop it.
The bell saved MacDonald, but his corner had seen enough. They called off the fight.
Rich Franklin trains at my gym, you know.
I freaking love UFC.
• • •
So many ways to get hurt in UFC ...
Lightweight Gleison Tibau, who is built like Mr. Universe, spent 15 minutes putting Jason Dent on the ground and trying to choke him to sleep. Dent, who is built like me, spent most of those 15 minutes looking like a trout who has been brought onto the boat. Tibau never did gut his innards, but he won by unanimous decision.
Nasty things happen on the ground, out of sight from us. Chris Lytle wanted to box with former welterweight champion Matt Hughes, but Hughes -- a four-time college All-American wrestler -- preferred the ground. The crowd booed Hughes' strategy, but all three rounds ended with Lytle having to scrape his face off the mat, blood everywhere.
Light heavyweight Renato "Babalu" Sobral nearly choked Jason Lambert into submission in their first round, but Lambert reversed their ground position and turned his fists sideways, like hammers. Sobral's face was the nail. When they stood back up, Lambert threw a short left that turned off Sobral's brain before his body hit the canvas. Watching on the arena's big screens afterward and asked to describe that final punch to the crowd, Lambert blurted: "Oh, wow. That was nice."
Light heavyweight Rex Holman was fighting with a broken hand. Matt Hamill was fighting deaf. Advantage: deaf guy. Hamill, a three-time Division III wrestling champion, turned Holman onto his stomach and pounded the back of his head until McCarthy stopped it. Afterward, Hamill conducted his interview in sign language.
I freaking love UFC.
• • •
No wonder everyone hates Tim Sylvia.
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He's the UFC heavyweight champion, but he seems like a jerk. He's flipped off fans in the past, and tonight he emerges from his locker room with bad intentions. Some fans lean over for a high five, but the 6-8, 265-pound Sylvia jerks his hands away.
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He's huge and tattooed. He has a Mohawk. And he looks like a giant dork. Sylvia's feet splay outward. His knees point inward. His doughy midsection creeps over the sides of his trunks.
This is the UFC heavyweight champion?
Not for long. Randy Couture, who is 43 and came out of retirement for this fight, decks him with one punch. Couture spends the rest of the fight dominating Sylvia on the ground and on feet, using Sylvia's Mohawk as an arrow pointing to the target that is his face.
After two rounds Sylvia is bleeding heavily from his mouth and nose. After five rounds, the mouth and nose are the best parts left of his face. Sylvia's left eye is purple and swollen shut. The eyebrow is hideously swollen, hanging over his face like the awning of a condemned building.
Couture wins the title by unanimous decision, putting on the belt while Sylvia's handlers help their beaten fighter put on his shirt.
"Not bad for an old guy," Couture tells the crowd.
I freaking love UFC.
