The 10 Biggest Mistakes in MMA

March 20, 2007
by Jake Rossen (jrossen@sherdog.com)

Nobody's perfect. Humans are often possessed of spectacular misjudgment, perpetuating errors that can infect their careers, personal lives, and IRS returns.

(Handy tip: escorts are not tax-deductible, even for world-renowned Web site operators whose last name rhymes with "bear frog.")

Because MMA has been such a scrutinized industry for so long, the missteps of its upper management can take on a kind of operatic stumbling, one that feeds grousing and promotes stilted growth for years to come.

The most recent example was the IFL's executive decision to portray their recent debut on network television as an errant episode of Cops, complete with EMT officials scrambling over a downed athlete like he had just been gunned down.

The gaffe was only the latest in a sport that's seen its fair share; there will be more. Contrary to belief, the business of socking someone in the grill has never been an exact science.

Some of my favorite blunders:

On the surface, UFC 21 didn't appear to be a crucial program for the struggling promotion. It was headlined by a largely purposeless main event between aging stars Maurice Smith and Marco Ruas . Worse, it came during the infamous cable blackout of the late 1990s.

Though the Iowa arena was sparsely populated, it did hold several important members of the Nevada State Athletic Commission, who were on hand to survey the MMA landscape for possible sanctioning. Highlighting the undercard was a bout between Jeremy Horn and Daiju Takase, a tough Pancrase veteran from across the shores. Horn was competing as a middleweight, which capped at 199.9 pounds. Officials were told Takase would weigh in at or near the limit.

When the scale was consulted, he was a scrawny 169 pounds, making the bout a somewhat obscene mismatch. Incredibly, SEG honcho Bob Meyrowitz allowed the fight to continue as planned. NSAC officials watched as Horn overpowered and pummeled a man who rightfully should've been two weight classes below.

Meyrowitz was told off record not to bother to pursue sanctioning, since he didn't have the requisite number of votes. How much the Horn-Takase mauling contributed to their opinion is unknown, but it obviously didn't help.

Considering his questionable fighting acumen, Wes Sims expiring on television isn't as unlikely a scenario as one might think. But it certainly didn't help the IFL's stature as a respectable group that their debut on network television, Battleground, featured such hyperbolic stunts as a faux 911 call and the repeated promise of someone getting strapped to a stretcher.

It was fight promotion by way of Art Davie, and it smacked of clueless network intervention. The IFL swears that the tactics have been scrapped for upcoming installments. The one positive: MyNetworkTV is a black hole of programming, with the IFL barely improving on the Spanish soap operas their time slot used to host. Tanto major.

Believe it or don't, but there was a time when sluggish Pedro Rizzo was considered the hottest heavyweight prospect in the sport. He had numerous highlight reels knockouts to his credit, including a stunning display of amateur anesthesia over Josh Barnett.

Sensing Rizzo would be a major player in their promotion, Zuffa locked the Brazilian into to an unprecedented six-fight, six-figure contract, the downside of which would be paying him a quarter-million for the final fight.

Before the ink was dry, Rizzo lost a rematch with Randy Couture. After knocking out Andrei Arlovski, he dropped two more to Vladimir Matyushenko and Gan McGee. Rizzo eventually collected his small fortune on a dark match, a plodding decision win over Ricco Rodriguez. It was never even televised.

It was a considerable investment in an athlete who had already shown a propensity for lackadaisical performances. When Zuffa discussed closing up shop in 2004, it seems likely that the money pit that was Pedro Rizzo was not an encouraging counter-argument.

UFC 33's cup runneth Over

Freshly scrubbed, the "New" Ultimate Fighting Championship and its owners negotiated a deal to return to pay-per-view television in 2001. While it may seem an alien concept now, with a new promotion springing up on iNDemand monthly, the sport was ostracized from the dial for years.

This was big stuff.

In the ensuing excitement over their new lease on life, no UFC employee thought to sit down and properly manage the allotted time. As a result, iNDemand lopped over the remaining rounds of the Tito Ortiz - Vladimir Matyushenko main event. It was an appropriate climax to what had been a sleeping pill of a program, one full of sluggish decisions.

The dull bouts and inexplicable production burp delayed the UFC's eventual success by years, according to president Dana White. That it didn't bury it for good is some kind of miracle.

Perhaps Chute Boxe places too much emphasis on cranial trauma and not enough on the basics. Whatever the case, the regimen probably got scrutinized after emerging star Mauricio Rua made a costly rookie's mistake.

His feet ensnared in the action figure-sized arms of Mark Coleman, Rua fell down to the mat and posted his arm to soften the fall. Unfortunately, his arm's rigidity coupled with the velocity resulted in a dislocated elbow. Rua howled as chaos consumed the ring, with Chute Boxe allies brawling with Hammer House alumni like it was a battle for Sparta.

Rua healed up, but the mistake cost him months of training time and a fight or two. At least he's still got his smile — providing he keeps remembering to duck.

Murilo Bustamante leaves UFC for leaner pastures

Following his victory over Matt Lindland at UFC 37, Murilo Bustamante was considered a pound-for-pound great in the sport. Though he dropped a close bout with Chuck Liddell, Bustamante rattled off consecutive victories against both Dave Menne and Lindland to obtain and defend the UFC's middleweight title, respectively.

Though his financial offer to stay in the UFC was considerable, Bustamante chose to export himself over to PRIDE … where he promptly dropped three bouts in a row, effectively killing his momentum as a potential icon in the sport.

Had he remained in the UFC, it's likely he would've benefited from more competitive matchmaking and a slightly more shallow talent pool. Glory doesn't pay the bills, but neither does losing.

You'd be hard pressed to find a more put-upon individual than Kevin Randleman, the self-appointed Mr. Bean of martial arts.

His first miscalculation came during the hours leading up to UFC 24's main event, where Randleman was supposed to defend his heavyweight title against Pedro Rizzo. Perhaps their collective mojo was too much for the arena; while warming up, Randleman slipped on some pipes and became the first UFC main eventer to get rushed to the hospital prior to his fight.

Gaffe number two came when Randleman was MIA for a UFC press conference, inviting the ire of noted grudge-bearer Dana White with his lack of notice or explanation. Not surprisingly, he was subsequently MIA for actual events.

There are other instances. Dropping Mark Coleman on his head in practice and inducing temporary paralysis; somehow finding a way to lose a bout with Fedor Emelianenko despite using the aforementioned move. But the pinnacle of Randleman gaffes remains his October drug test for the NSAC, where he submitted "animal or non-living human" urine in order to conceal God-knows-what in his own discharge.

Considering that rap sheet, some might believe it's hard to be a Kevin Randleman fan. I say it's hard not to be.

Anjoh challenges Rickson to dojo fight

Imagine you're a celebrated professional wrestler. Your superiors in the UWFi convince you it would be a fantastic career move to travel abroad to America, storm a gym with cameras, and demand a dojo match with Rickson Gracie on the spot.

Despite his anemic professional record, Rickson — the official, unofficial champion of the Gracie family — is still not an individual for whom restraint comes easily. And if your fight skills were honed in steel chair matches, the next five minutes of your life are apt to be traumatic indeed.

Angered over what he perceived as a personal slight, Gracie locked himself and Anjoh in a room and proceeded to make Anjoh's dentist a very rich man. Japanese newspapers ran photos of Anjoh looking like he was auditioning for an Elephant Man remake; he later returned to California and proffered apologies.

The culture of celebrity is a very tightly wound machine. Actors and athletes rarely open their mouths unless they've been advised by lawyers, publicists, and, in the case of substance-abusing performers, their talking dog.

That's why it was so strange to see current cover story Chuck Liddell show up for a Dallas morning show looking as though he had just been dosed with an animal tranquilizer. Mumbling incoherently, Liddell mentioned Vernon White and Tommy Morrison as viable opponents. At one point, he fell asleep.

Even if he had been alert, Liddell's appearance was disarming: he was on a publicity tour for the movie 300, with only the most tenuous of connections to the film. (Spartans were the "ultimate fighters" of 480 BC. Get it?)

In the end, 300 opened to a record $70 million weekend gross and Liddell got a likely riot act from UFC brass. While no one looks forward to a time when MMA athletes are as inaccessible as ball-wielding egomaniacs, it wouldn't hurt to have a little supervision … especially when a camera is pointed in your direction.

Most of the accomplished wrestlers in MMA have their best grappling years in their rearview mirrors. Mark Coleman was a 1992 Olympic contender; Matt Lindland won the Silver seven years ago.

In contrast, Karam Ibrahim was right off the badass assembly line, having won the Gold in Greco-Roman wrestling at the summer 2004 Olympic Games. Six months later, he was in a K-1 ring as the opposition for Kazuyuki Fujita.

It seemed academic that Ibrahim would shoot for a takedown as soon as possible. Instead, fans watched incredulously as the newly minted Olympian traded blows with Fujita, finally taking one on the jaw that turned off his power. By way of analogy, consider what would happen if Lennox Lewis entered the game and decided to go for an ankle pick thirty seconds in.

It just ain't right.

Mirko Cro Cop

Tuesday, March 20, 2007