By the time the UFC got around to making an official announcement about Toney (seen above in a very old photo, taken when he was more fit and thinking more clearly), Dana was singing a different tune. “A lot of pro boxers have made a lot of noise about how they would do in mixed martial arts, but nobody on the level of a James Toney has been willing to back up his talk,” White was quoted as saying in the news release. “He’s a legend whose boxing record speaks for itself, and he’s a guy who I’ve got a lot of respect for. Now he’s got every intention of matching that success in MMA, and I think he’s got the right attitude — let’s see if he can do it.”

I actually think Dana is right on with both of his statements: James Toney is the one boxer who is manning up and backing up his words, yes, but considering that he’s a 41-year-old punchy guy who has not beaten anyone you’ve heard of since 2006, maybe the UFC is getting into the freak show business.

Or maybe not. At this point, there’s simply no way of making that judgment. So much depends on the matchmaking for Toney’s UFC debut.

As Freddie Roach, as astute a boxing guy as there is, told Crave Online (link via Cage Potato): “I think they’re using James as a way to say MMA fighters are better than boxers.  If he fights a quality ground guy, once he goes to the ground he’s gonna get killed. But If a guy chooses to stand up with James, James is gonna destroy him.  That’s why they call him ‘Lights Out.’ I really don’t think there’s one fighter in MMA that could stand with James.”

Freddie’s certainly right with his point about ground fighting: If Toney’s trunks hit the mat, he’s done. And Roach may be right with definitively stated opinion about standup fighting as well: Maybe it will be “lights out” for anyone in the UFC who dares to stand and trade with Toney. But it’s that latter question I’d like to see explored.

Initially, when I heard about this signing, I was all for the UFC throwing Toney into the cage with a ground fighter and watching him get ground up. But what would be the point? OK, maybe the point would be to shut up Tony, who on the latest edition of HD Net’s “Inside MMA” said: “I want Brock Lesnar. I’m the heavyweight champion of the world vs. the UFC champion. That’d be a hell of a match.” Setting aside the small factual error regarding Toney’s claim of being “the heavyweight champion of the world” — what world does he live in? — he’s dead wrong about saying it would be “a hell of a match.” It would be a hell of a mismatch, an alarmingly brutal beatdown by the 265-pound Lesnar, who’d take down Toney before Bruce Buffer had landed his 720-degree introduction, and would sit on Toney’s chest and pound away with those hamhock fists until the ghosts of Joe Louis and Rocky Marciano pulled him off. It would be a freak show.

I think Toney, who last boxed at 240 pounds, would fare no better against even a much smaller ground fighter. And I’m not even talking about champions. Could Toney take 205-pounder Randy Couture? Chael Sonnen? What about 185-pounder Demian Maia or 170-pounder Josh Koscheck or even 155-pounder Gray Maynard? Sure, he might catch one of those guys while the fight is standing, particularly if someone (Koscheck?) gets cocky and tries to beat the boxer at his own game. But if any of these grapplers gets a single leg, James is going down, even if he has a significant weight advantage. It would be an embarrassment to Toney and boxing, but would it do anything for the UFC? Everyone already knows that a grappler has the edge on a boxer, don’t they?

More intriguing to me, now that I’ve thought about it, is the prospect of the UFC putting Toney in with a well-rounded striker. Not a guy who just wails away with roundhouse punches, like Chuck Liddell or (please no) Kimbo Slice. Even at 41, James Toney should have enough short, straight punches to turn that bout his way. But what if Toney has to defend against kicks, too? Put him in with Cheick Congo, Gilbert Yvel or Pat Barry, kickboxers all, and James Toney gets to stay in his element — on his feet — while having to adapt to an added dimension of attack. I suspect that if given enough time to train, Toney would learn to counter kicks with straight punches that could disuade any of those kickboxers. But all of them have at least rudimentary ground skills, ready to be utilized if the standup is a standoff. It could be interesting.

On the surface, that type of matchup seems like a long shot. James Toney vs. Pat Barry isn’t going to sell tickets. James Toney vs. Chuck Liddell  might. And the UFC is in business to sell tickets and PPVs. But that’s short-term money talking. The UFC has grown to where it is today by envisioning desired destinations far down the road. And showcasing a style of standup that might stand up to James Toney, even if it’s practiced by fighters with a far smaller profile (and crowd draw) than “The Iceman,” is clearly the sustainable strategy for the UFC. It even comes at a  smaller risk. If James Toney knocks out Pat Barry, the sporting public and even some MMA fans will say, “He knocked out who?” But if Toney KO’s ESPN the Magazine cover boy Chuck Liddell, it would be perceived by the general public as an over-the-hill boxer flattening the top star of MMA. Those who follow the UFC only peripherally probably haven’t noticed Chuck’s descent from the top of his game.

Then again, maybe the businessmen who run the UFC  are thinking another step ahead of the rest of us. There’s no way they’re going to put Toney in with a top guy like Lyoto Machida or Anderson Silva right out of the gate, but maybe they want to build him up as a threat by giving him a first foe he will look good against. This could be tough, as Toney hasn’t looked good against anyone he’s faced in recent years, even in fights he’s won. But if he  steps in against a credible and versatile MMA striker and dominates, maybe even stuffing a takedown attempt along the way, it could build interest for a big bout against a title holder down the road. But not too far down the road. The guy is 41.

So let’s hold off on judging the UFC’s signing of James Toney until we see who his first opponent is. You have to think the UFC has something up its sleeve other than a sleazy freak show.

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It may  be that Cain’s plan was to keep the fight off the mat until things got sweaty enough to render Minotauro’s virtuoso submission game out of tune. But if that was going to be Velasquez’ strategy, I figured he’d keep his distance and counterpunch, defend takedowns, wait for the room to get warm and, once perspiration gave him the inspiration, pounce on the big Brazilian for a ground-and-pound pummeling. Well, Cain pounced all right, but not with a double-leg explosion. It was his accurate and relentless punching, after after two minutes of fighting, that took out a guy who’d been stopped only once before in his career (a little over a year ago by Frank Mir, at a time when Nog was weakened by a staph infection). Tonight Nogueira was infected by the fists of a fighter who looks like the future of the heavyweight division.

Before I move on to the main card’s other bouts, let me close this main event pontification with some poetry:

Oh, a storm is threat’ning

My very life today

If I don’t get some shelter

Oh yeah I’m gonna fade away.

A recording of that little bit of verse, the work of noted English bards Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, was Nogueira’s entrance music. Hearing the Stones put a smile on my face and probably distracted Velasquez into thinking, “I have no idea what this song is, but I think it’s something my father used to listen to — or maybe it was mi abuelo.” Within a few minutes, though, it was Nogueira who likely had confused thoughts racing around his head, or at least this one desperate thought: “Gimme shelter.” All of this is to say that, with apologies to PPV voices Mike Goldberg and Joe Rogan, those four poetic lines of rock ‘n’ roll represent the most astute analysis of the evening’s telecast. What a prophesy.

OK, on to the other fights . . .

Wanderlei Silva defeats Michael Bisping by unanimous decision: I told you so. Just yesterday I told the world, or at least the few cyberspace wanderers who land at this funhouse on The Faster Times site, that Silva would walk right through the blustery Brit. I believe my exact words were, “The Axe Murderer should cut right through Bisping.” Boy, was I right. Boy, did it take a while. It wasn’t until the last 10 seconds of the fight that Wanderlei walked the walk. For 14:50 Bisping matched the Brazilian buzzsaw punch for punch, kick for kick, and had more takedowns, but he inflicted little damage, other than with a kick to the groin and thumb in the eye in the third round. Silva, when he wasn’t supplying all of Australia with its 2010 electrical power with his wild windmill missed punches, got Bisping’s attention when he did manage to clip him with a fist or foot. But the real difference in this fight was that Bisping had to be saved by the bell in two of the three rounds, first from a tight guillotine choke in the second, then from la-la land after Wanderlei nailed him with the late flurry, sat on his chest and wailed away until the horn ended the hostility.

George Sotiropoulos defeats Joe Stevenson by unanimous decision: My forecast for this bout was about as pinpoint as the Inaccu-Weather guys’ calls on the recent New England snowstorms, such as the big one that dropped a whole inch on us while schoolkids across the region, home for the day after skittish principals called for a snow day based on blizzard predictions, giddily watched from their playroom windows. I was correct in predicting that one of these guys would clearly “control the fight, whether it’s a standup sparring session or it hits the mat.” I just predicted success for the wrong guy. Oh well. I’m actually happy for Sotiropoulos, who got to go home Down Under and come out on top. And you’ve got to love a guy who enters the arena to the sound of Black Sabbath (dum dum, dum-DUM-dum).

Ryan Bader defeats Keith Jardine by third-round TKO: Here’s another “Oh well” moment. I had the right guy winning this fight, but my prediction was that there’d be “nothing too thrilling for the spectators, just lots of crowd grumbling as Bader takes the fight to the mat and rides it out, decisively if not spectacularly.” How wrong I was regarding the entertainment value. The Aussie crowd had no grumbles but lots of gasps when, in a tight fight that was up for grabs midway through the third round, Bader staggered Jardine with a right, charged in with a flying knee that just grazed the backpedaling “Dean of Mean,” then sent him to the canvas with a finishing left. Oh, that “Dean” reference reminds me: I was checking out the always entertaining Jake Rossen’s live blogging at ESPN.com (via Sherdog.com), and he and his cronies encroached on my  beat — nicknames. At 10:41 p.m. (in case you want to check for yourself) Rossen and guest Twitterer/Tweeter/whatever-the-kids-call-it Franklin McNeil agreed that “the Dean of Mean” is the best in the sport (nickname, not fighter). But then Jake called “Darth” Bader the “laziest” nickname. I say Ryan should be commended for not ignoring the obvious, for not overthinking. This display of good fundamentals was not just an admirable nicknaming quality but also came in handy in the cage.

Mirko Filipovic defeats Anthony Perosh by doctor’s stoppage (cut) after the second round: Good for Cro Cop for taking care of business in a dominating way. Good for Perosh for stepping up on two days’ notice. That’s about all I can say about this last-minute mismatch. I barely looked up at the wall of flat screens in the sports bar where I’d just arrived to watch UFC 110. I mostly just sipped my beer while looking at the menu. I ordered a quesadilla.

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]]> http://thefastertimes.com/mma/2010/02/21/velasquez-stays-on-his-feet-puts-nogueira-on-his-back-in-ufc-110/feed/ http://thefastertimes.com/mma/2010/02/19/go-ahead-bet-the-house-the-ufc-110-winners-will-be/ http://thefastertimes.com/mma/2010/02/19/go-ahead-bet-the-house-the-ufc-110-winners-will-be/#comments Fri, 19 Feb 2010 16:29:25 +0000 Jeff Wagenheim http://thefastertimes.com/mma/?p=1720 With the sports world’s eyes fixed on North America and the Vancouver Olympics, the global leader in mixed martial arts is venturing off the beaten half-pipe this weekend halfway around the world, coincidentally at the site of the Summer Games of a decade ago. And UFC 110 in Sydney, Australia, has a true international flavor, perhaps even more than a typical MMA card.

There’s the legendary Brazilian jiu-jitsu heavyweight, coming off a marquee performance, fighting in the main event. There’s the don’t-blink-or-you’ll-miss-the-brutal-finish striker-vs.-striker matchup between the polarizing Brit and the fierce Brazilian stalker, each of whom has been on the what-hit-me? side of a vicious knockout within recent memory (or loss of memory). There are a few Croatians, the most notable being a former special services police officer who may or may not have any bullets left in the chamber. There are a bunch of Americans, a Canadian who’s known as “The Polish Experiment,” and, of course, a number of unruly Aussies — I’m referring to the fighters, although that probably could describe much of the crowd on Saturday night (actually Sunday morning in Sydney).

So who’ll be standing on the podium with a gold medal draped around his neck at the end of the night? I’ve not been around MMA for as long as Dick Button has been amassing his wealth of figure skating knowledge, but I have opinions. Before I share them, though, I offer this proviso: If you choose to use these picks at a Las Vegas sports book, you (a) are crazy and (b) do so at your own risk. And if you win, you owe me.

OK, here’s what I see happening on the UFC 110 main card:

Mirko Filipovic vs. Anthony Perosh: It’s difficult to back Cro Cop too enthusiastically without first having a peek at his gas gauge. How much does the 35-year-old have left in the tank? His needle has been teetering near “E” pretty much ever since he joined the UFC, a point that has not gone unnoticed by the great Fedor Emelianenko. And the declawing of Filipovic was  especially evident in his last fight, a one-sided loss to Junior Dos Santos. But Perosh, a late replacement for the ill Ben Rothwell, presents not even a small fraction of the problems that Dos Santos does. Hell, he’s not even half the threat Rothwell would have been, being a barely-bulked-up 205-pounder who can’t impose himself physically on Mirko the way the 265-pound Rothwell might have. Filipovic, whose will to continue fighting has been questioned lately, surely isn’t going to be hesitant to engage with an overmatched 37-year-old Aussie nicknamed “The Hippo.” So here’s an opoortunity for Cro Cop to go out with some panache. If he can put his pedal to the metal this one last time, he’ll find a way to put his foot on Perosh’s ill-prepared cranium. Filipovic by TKO in the first round.

Keith Jardine vs. Ryan Bader: It’s rare that “The Dean of Mean” faces a guy who can compete with him in the nickname competition, but “Darth Vader” is eerily evocative and poetically cinematic . . . and it’s sure to have traction with the all-important Star Wars nerd demographic the UFC has been so desperately coveting. The thing is, Jardine is the guy here with the Han Solo soul, with his otherworldly looks and unorthodox standup. (Two digressions: (1) If “The Dean of Mean” weren’t such an awesome thing to be known as, Jardine could always go by the nickname “Unorthodox,” because I’ve never seen a story about him that didn’t use that word to describe him; and (2) the Han Solo reference comes courtesy of my almost-7-year-old Star Wars-obsessed son, who asked to be credited for his expertise.) And Jardine also has a shinier pedigree, with wins over Chuck Liddell, Forrest Griffin and Brandon Vera. Bader has nothing like those names on his resume . . . but he’s beaten everyone who’s been put in front of him. He makes this step up in competition with a 10-0 record, while Jardine is a fading 15-6-1, with losses in three of his last four outings. It can be exciting to watch a young fighter on the rise, but on this night I envision nothing too thrilling for the spectators, just lots of crowd grumbling as Bader takes the fight to the mat and rides it out, decisively if not spectacularly. Bader by decision.

Joe Stevenson vs. George Sotiropoulos: Since 2006, Stevenson has lost to three men: Kenny Florian, Diego Sanchez and B.J. Penn. Sotiropoulos does not fit in that company. That’s not to say he doesn’t belong in the cage with Joe Daddy, though. Hey, that “Joe Daddy” reference reminds me of something that’s been weighing on my mind: Do you think Stevenson took on that nickname as a prideful recognition of having sired offspring, or because he hoped to develop a signature finishing move in which he mounts an opponent and, while “raining down punches” (as Mike Goldberg might say on the PPV telecast), taunts his foe with “Who’s your Daddy? Who’s your Daddy?” (Sorry to carry on with this nonsensical nickname obsession, but I guess that’s why I’ve become known far and wide as Jeff “He Picks Up On Something And Never Lets It Go” Wagenheim.) Anyway, I don’t think Sotiropoulos has to worry about being dominated quite like that. But while the skilled Aussie does pose a threat, I expect the all-round solid and road-tested Stevenson to control the fight, whether it’s a standup sparring session or it hits the mat. Stevenson by decision.

Wanderlei Silva vs. Michael Bisping: When I first heard about this matchup, I categorized it as the grizzled old veteran vs. the up-and-coming young stud. Then I realized that Silva, at 33, is just three years older than Bisping. And when I thought about it some more, it occurred to me that Bisping isn’t really up-and-coming, as he’s already knocked on the door of the elite clubroom for 205-pounders (and had the door slammed in his face), and he’s not really all that studly either, with a pitter-patter attack that wears on opponents rather than devastates them. As for Silva, he is grizzled, with 43 fights on his record, against a who’s who of championship-level fighters: Dan Henderson (twice), Rampage Jackson (three times), Chuck Liddell, Rich Franklin, Mark Hunt, Kazushi Sakuraba (twice), Vitor Belfort, Tito Ortiz and others. Unless the wear and tear from those testy battles, combined with cutting weight all the way to 185 ponds, weakens him, “The Axe Murderer” should cut right through Bisping, who is still psychologically hurting from a highlight-reel Henderson KO that changed his nickname from “The Count” to “The Counted Out.” (Sorry, had to get in one last nickname jab.) A wary fighter may look like a smart fighter, but if he teeters over the line and becomes a tentative fighter, watch out. Silva by second round TKO.

Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira vs. Cain Velasquez: Yes, as I mentioned above, Nogueira is coming off “a marquee performance,” in which he controlled the control freak Randy Couture, reversing his way out of dangerous situations and threatening with submission attempts to earn a unanimous decision. Impressive, especially in light of how dominant Couture was in his subsequent Seniors Tour outing, against a spent Mark Coleman. But citing just the Couture bout is telling less than half of the “Minotauro in the UFC” story, as Nogueiro’s three previous trips inside the octagon were pretty sketchy. He was said to have been at less than 10o percent in his dreadful loss to Frank Mir, but that still leaves two substandard (albeit victorious) showings in the Dana White Athletic Club, against the plodding Tim Sylvia (a guillotine choke enabled Big Nog to snatch victory from the jaws of a likely decision loss) and Heath Herring (a lackluster decision win). And those four fights account for his full slate of activity since the beginning of 2007. Does he have the energy to stand his ground against the freight train named Cain Velasquez? The relentless former All-America wrestler is stronger and quicker . . . and has a knack for thudding takedowns in which he instantly ends up in side control, which would save him the trouble of dealing with Nogueiro’s cagy and threatening full guard. Velasquez still could get caught in a submission — no heavyweight is better suited to pull it off  than Minotauro — but Cain is such a beast on the ground that in my crystal ball I see nothing but bruises on Nog’s noggin. Velasquez by third-round ground-and-pound stoppage.

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Yesterday’s online analysis run rampant was over what Fedor was really saying when he sat there silently at a recent Kiev news conference, forgetting the name of the fighter he’d just been asked about. A memory lapse isn’t a big deal . . .  unless the flatline moment comes when you’re being queried about your No. 1 rival for status as the World’s Most Bad-Ass Heavyweight Fighter. The name “Brock Lesnar” doesn’t just slip your mind, does it? Was Fedor trying to say something by not saying anything? Was he being disrespectfully dismissive of the big lug with the flattop?

I don’t think so. I think forgetting Brock’s name was a byproduct of Fedor’s mastery at focusing on what’s in front of him . . .  and with Emelianenko in Strikeforce/M-1 and Lesnar in the UFC, What’s-his-Name is basically out of sight and therefore out of mind. A nonentity. That’s how I interpret it.

But dwelling on that amusing soundbite totally misses the real revelation  that came out of the news conference. It was way more fascinating to hear what Fedor had to say about Mirko “Cro Cop” Filipovic, a once-feared fighter who took him to a hard-fought decision back in their Pride days . . . but who since coming to the UFC has been a shadow of his former self. “There is something that broke in him,” said Fedor, according the news conference translation, “and he is not the same fighter as he was before.”

On what does Fedor base this assessment? “This is evident in his style of fighting and in his look during the fight. . . . I mean, when a fighter is ready and goes to fight, then it can be seen by his look. Regardless of whether he gets hit or not, he goes forward. And regardless of whether he wins or loses, he wants to go forward. And it is clear from his burning eyes.

“But it also happens that a fighter does not want to, not even to win, but he wants to get out of here so quickly as possible, out of the ring, out of the cage, with any result of the fight.”

An interesting, well thought out perspective. And one spoken, I think, with no small measure of compassion. Watch for yourself what Fedor says about Cro Cop:

And watch Fedor’s fierce 2005 fight with the Cro Cop he remembers (in four parts):

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]]> http://thefastertimes.com/mma/2010/02/18/fedor-on-whats-his-name-lesnar-and-the-broken-crop-cop/feed/ http://thefastertimes.com/mma/2010/02/11/randy-couture-herschel-walker-coming-of-age/ http://thefastertimes.com/mma/2010/02/11/randy-couture-herschel-walker-coming-of-age/#comments Thu, 11 Feb 2010 04:37:38 +0000 Jeff Wagenheim http://thefastertimes.com/mma/?p=1652 One weekend the attention-grabbing mixed martial artist is 47-year-old Herschel Walker. The next weekend it’s 46-year-old Randy Couture. These athletes get younger every day, don’t they?

Some find it troublesome for the sport to be so publicly represented by guys on the verge of being hounded by AARP junk mail. Others simply find it annoying to hear the legendary Randy and the newbie Herschel mentioned in the same breath. I thought each guy did himself proud, at far  different  levels of competition, of course, but in sort of the same way.

Herschel’s best moment during Strikeforce: Miami two weekends ago came in his postfight interview. I’m not being sarcastic here, or ridiculing his fight performance. He fought like a guy who trains seriously, looking fluid and athletic (duh!). Walker, who spent a couple of months rolling with tough guys like Cain Velasquez at American Kickboxing Academy, didn’t do the MMA equivalent of bursting through the defense for an 80-yard touchdown run, but his stout takedowns and ground control, though not exactly crowd pleasing, were akin to gaining a bunch of tough first downs on a steady drive downfield. He wasn’t in the cage with a veteran who could exploit his inexperience, but to say he wasn’t tested would be foolhardy. As Walker told the restless fans during his interview, “When you see the guys in the ring, don’t boo ‘em. Let me tell you: This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Please don’t boo.”

That humble statement from such an elite multisport athlete, even one past his prime, said a lot about the respect he has for MMA and those who compete in it. So did Walker’s statement a few days later when he was informed that the laughable Jose Canseco had called him out. Herschel didn’t play along. “What I do is not a circus,” he said on a Dallas radio show. “Jose, he does this for money, and my thing is, if he wants to fight me and he thinks it’s going to be a circus, I will hurt him. This is not a joke.”

Nice.

Taken together, Walker’s two statements serve as a reminder of  what aligns this former NFL star and Olympic bobsledder more with lifelong martial artists than with sideshow acts like Canseco: Real fighters don’t just seek out a quick buck with a publicity stunt, they earn their respect by preparing diligently and stepping into a cage or ring to test themselves. It doesn’t matter if you’re a football hero looking for a new challenge, an MMA veteran considered by some to no longer be a title contender … or even a backyard-brawling YouTube legend who devotes himself to sweaty gym work to become a well-rounded fighter. It doesn’t reflect badly on Kimbo Slice that he lost his only bout on The Ultimate Fighter and wasn’t so stirring even in winning his official UFC debut. He approaches the sport seriously, and for that alone, he deserves respect.

Kimbo and Herschel actually found themselves lumped together the other day in a Dana White Q&A session with the media. The UFC president, who months ago called Strikeforce’s much-publicized signing of Walker “ridiculous,” was asked the perfectly reasonable question of how he can dismiss Herschel while shining all sorts of spotlights on Kimbo. Here’s what he said:

Dana showed Herschel a lot more respect there than he had in the past, but he nonetheless portrayed Kimbo as a more legit MMA fighter than Walker. And why not? Kimbo is under contract to the UFC, and Dana White is the company president. Of course he’s going to diminish fighters signed to a competing promotion, while saying all the right things about his guys, like Kimbo … and Phil Baroni … and Tito Ortiz. Who knows what he really thinks of those fighters?

And who knows whether Dana really believes, as he says he does, that Randy Couture is a legitimate contender for the light heavyweight title? Last weekend’s second-round stoppage of Mark Coleman was a dominant performance by The Natural, but it came against a guy who hasn’t aged so well. And Randy’s next-to-last fight was a tight, disputable decision win over Brandon Vera. Do those two bouts provide enough evidence that Couture  belongs in the upper tier? Randy has surprised us all before (see Sylvia, Tim), but could he really take out Lyoto Machida? If he gets his hands on the guy (no small task), he surely has the strength and know-how to control the fight … but for five championship rounds? And there’s also a more pressing question: Does Randy even deserve a shot at it? It seems to me that there are several more deserving light heavies, but fight promotion being what it is, the guy everybody knows — and knows never to doubt — may get to cut in line.

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Of course, Dana’s newspaper column didn’t say MMA is going to be the biggest sport in the world in a decade. It said UFC is. This was not a typo.

Dana White is not Roger Goodell, David Stern or Bud Selig. Unlike the commissioners of the NFL, NBA and Major League Baseball, the UFC president is not the overseer of the only game in town. The UFC is a behemoth in the world of MMA, but not to the degree that, say, the NFL — only occasionally challenged by mosquito-pesky intruders like the USFL and XFL — is pro football. As a result, while those other bigwigs tend to be perceived as above-the-fray kingpins who act for the good of the game, Dana is generally viewed as a competitive businessman out to enrich the UFC (of which he owns 9 percent) at the expense of anyone who dares encroach in his goldmine.

Sure, Goodell, Stern and Selig know where their bread is buttered too. But their pocket-lining initiatives are grander and not so sniping. Would they stoop to the level of Dana and Co., who on Saturday night will counterprogram the Strikeforce: Miami live show on Showtime with a re-airing of UFC 107 over on Spike? Who knows how many fans the UFC will siphon away? I mean, we all know by now that B.J. Penn beat the crap out of Diego Sanchez at 107, but if you didn’t see it live, here’s your chance. Sure, the DVR makes it easy to watch both the UFC and Strikeforce, but that’s beside the point. The point is that the UFC’s 10-year plan is not to build the sport of MMA to No. 1, it’s to build the UFC. Duh.

Yeah, duh. But it’s an important distinction. Dana White talks about himself as a fight fan, and there’s no reason to doubt him. He grew up in boxing, fell in love with MMA and sank his heart and soul into the UFC. But labor of love or not, let’s not forget that he’s a businessman. That thought shone brightly for me yesterday when I was e-mailed an announcement about a new line of Round 5 plastic figures depicting UFC fighters that will be available in a store near you later this year. What caught my eye was that among those featured on these collectibles are Tito Ortiz and Kimbo Slice. My contact at Round 5 insists that his company chooses the fighters, not  the UFC, but it’s still hard to fathom seeing Dana being OK with seeing plastic effiges of two guys who were the objects of  his scorn until recently (unless the figures were voodoo dolls, hairpins included). Even after gaining the UFC president’s good graces, Tito and Kimbo have  done little in the cage to distinguish themselves. But they’re lightning rods for fans, for better or worse, so rev up the marketing department. It’s not personal for Dana White. It’s business.

Yet this is the same businessman who, as I mentioned earlier, was seen on his own video blog pacing in his UFC office and ranting to a Sherdog editor about columnist/blogger Jake Rossen, who has pissed him off for failing to “move the sport of MMA forward” and not “promoting the fight this weekend.” If Dana White succeeds this decade in taking MMA — I mean, the UFC — into the sports mainstream, he’s going to have to learn the difference between a news operation and a company’s PR department. He can be forgiven for thinking it’s the job of Sherdog and other MMA sites to promote the UFC, because a lot of the MMA news we read online at this point is written by folks without journalism backgrounds who truly love the sport and want to see it grow almost as much as White does. But wait till the mainstream media have at MMA. Dana is going to read some things he’s not going to like. He’s going to have to learn to roll with it.

He’s already having his gospel challenged, sacrilege as that may be. A few days ago the go-getting MMA blog Watch Kalib Run, taking note of Dana’s 10-year plan and his statement in an excellent Esquire profile that there are 18 millionaire fighters in the UFC, produced an interesting study that basically throws sand on the flame Dana has been nurturing with sparks and kindling. I don’t necessarily buy into the WKR thesis, which uses the relatively scant amount of money involved with MMA at this point to question its growth potential, but it’s good to see some thought going into MMA reporting amid all the arrows, poison darts, bouquets and softballs that fill the sport’s media. You might say it’s ahead of its time.

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Photo courtesy of Round 5

Even when Lesnar should come across as someone to root for, such as during today’s teleconference to announce his readiness to return from a scary bout of diverticulitis, the guy manages to don an oversized black hat. Brock sounded like the meanest man to hit Canada since Snidely Whiplash  when, asked about his emergency hospitalization after falling ill during a hunting trip north of the border, he spoke of our neighbor country’s health care system with all the respect he showed Bud Light at UFC 100. “They couldn’t do nothing for me,” said Lesnar. “It was like I was in a Third World country. I just looked at my wife, and she saved my life.”

Which is to say, Rena Lesnar packed her hurting husband into their car and they high-tailed it out of the Great White North, against doctor’s orders. “She got me out of there,” said Brock, “and drove 100 miles an hour to get me down to Bismarck, N.D., to Medcenter One.” Lesnar wouldn’t say where in Canada he had been hospitalized — when queried by a Canadian journalist, he wouldn’t even specify the province — but just from the border to Bismarck is 175 miles. So that means Rena was speeding on the highway for a minimum of a couple of hours with her husband “in excruciating pain.” That’s a family that wanted nothing to do with Canada.

So when Lesnar steps back into the cage this summer, it’ll be a wasted promotional opportunity if the bout headlines the UFC’s Boston debut card Aug. 28. That’s what many are speculating, because it’s so important to White for his fight company to make a big splash in his old hometown, and man mountain Brock makes splashes as big as they get. But there are two far more tantalizing sites for Lesnar’s next title defense: Montreal, where UFC 113 will be held May 8, and Vancouver, home of June 12’s UFC 115. The timing isn’t quite right for either of those cards, but whoa, Canada.

Lesnar’s ordeal began over a year ago, when he began having periodic and inexplicable stomach pain. The situation came to a head early in training camp for his scheduled Jan. 2 title defense against Shane Carwin, forcing him out of the gym for days at a time. When he missed a full week of training, Lesnar finally pulled out of the fight. He saw a doctor and was diagnosed with mononucleosis. For R&R, Lesnar went on a hunting trip in Canada, and one night he “woke up in shock, in cold sweat. . . . I didn’t know where I was.” Where he was, said Lesnar, “was in the boondocks.” With a 104-degree fever, he had to be driven 2½ to 3 hours to “what I thought would be a good medical facility.”

Neither that long drive in the Canadian wilderness nor the later one across the border with his wife was the low point for Lesnar. Nor was the 40-pound weight loss or the threat of having to live life with a colostomy bag. “Probably the lowest moment was getting care from Canada,” he said. “I hate to bash them, but . . . you know, not to get into the political side of things, but our health care system is a little radical, but, listen, we’ve got the best doctors, I believe, in the world here. Our system, it does need some restructuring. But I don’t believe a total reform is the answer.”

Ah, so this rant is about the politics of health care as much as his hospitalization. Lesner went on to say that as “a conservative Republican” who opposes President Obama’s health care reform agenda, he was thrilled that Massachusetts elected a Republican to fill the Senate seat vacated by the late Ted Kennedy. He also sent a shout out to the National Rifle Association and thumbed his nose at People for the Ethical Treatment of  Animals. And, finally, he made a point of telling our neighbors to the north that his criticism is nothing personal, saying, “I love Canada, I own property in Canada. . . . It has some of the best people and some of the best hunting in the world.”

Hunting may be what got Lesnar in this mess in the first place. “I’m a member of the NRA,” he said, “and whatever I kill, I eat.” It’s been that way for his whole life. He’s always subsisted on meat and potatoes at the dinner table, “and when the greens came by, I just kept passing them.” A low-fiber diet such as Lesnar’s can bring on diverticulitis, an inflammation of the bulging pouches that develop in some people’s colon lining. Brock’s case was so severe — “I had a hole in my stomach” — that he spent 11 days in the Bismarck hospital on intravenous feeding, having fluid drained from his gut and antibiotics pumped into him, with career-ending surgery on the horizon. That prognosis was confirmed when he sought a second opinion at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minn. But once he was able to eat, Lesnar balanced his diet and began some unspecified “natural healing medicine.” And when he visited his doctor at the beginning of this month, his abdominal problems were nowhere to be found. “It’s just a miracle to me,” said Lesnar. “The mind is a powerful thing.”

How ironic that he of all people would say that. In Brock’s mind it makes sense to ridicule Canadian health care after it treated him like a mono patient because that’s the illness he’d been diagnosed with in the United States. Yet he lauds his wife for yanking a patient in pain from a hospital, against doctor’s advice, and recklessly going racing on the highway for a couple of “excruciating” hours. He pooh-poohs an Obama health care initiative that seeks to aid the uninsured while acknowledging, as an uninsured “independent contractor” himself, that he knows plenty of fighters — not to mention friends and neighbors — who cannot afford the care that he can. Brock has spent a lot of time in hospitals lately but will never be confused for a brain surgeon.

But brain surgery is not what Brock Lesnar is paid to do. He makes his living by rattling brains inside a cage, and this summer he gets to go to work again. Wouldn’t it be something to see if his first job site were an arena north of the border filled with insulted Canadians?

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UPDATE: Unlike some of Lesnar’s mixed martial arts opponents, the Canadian health care system is not just lying there pinned to the mat and allowing the musclebound bully to hammer away without fighting back.

Carmel Olsen, CEO of the regional health authority in Brandon, Manitoba, told The Globe and Mail of Toronto on Thursday that she takes “real exception” to hearing Lesnar compare the care he received in Canada with that of a Third World country. “The attending physician was very qualified and very respected,” she said. “He’s been in the business for more than 30 years. And he has the skills to diagnose a condition such as diverticulitis without a CT scan.”

Olsen disputes Lesnar’s claim that Brandon Regional Hospital (he didn’t name the facility in question, but she did) was ill-equipped with broken-down machinery that couldn’t perform needed precedures. “We have state-of-art equipment here,” she said. “We are hardly a one-horse operation.”

After jokingly suggesting that Lesnar was being critical because “maybe he didn’t like the bill,” Olsen got right to the heart of the matter, saying, “But I really take exception to someone giving us that kind of media coverage for their own political reasons.”

What’s next for Brock, a Fox News talk show?

BROCK LESNAR SAYS FRANK MIR IS “(EXPLETIVE)” IN HIS PANTS

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When Gray Maynard and Nate Diaz stepped into the cage for the main event of last night’s UFC Fight Night 20 in Fairfax, Virginia, both had evolved as mixed martial artists since the first time they’d met, in the semifinals of season five of The Ultimate Fighter. Back in 2007, Diaz already had a dangerous jiu-jitsu skill set and put it on display in submitting Maynard from his back — which is where Nate had spent practically the whole fight, thanks to his opponent’s proficiency at takedowns. Maynard was a three-time NCAA Division 1 All-America wrestler, but as a mixed martial artist, Gray was green.

The common thinking going into last night’s rematch was that Maynard was the fighter who’d truly evolved, since he’d developed a nasty striking game to complement his smothering mat presence. However, Diaz had considerably refined what he already had: killer submissions, first and foremost, and impenetrable standup owing to his long, lanky reach. Maynard may have taken his game farther than Diaz, but he had farther to go.

So it must have been exciting to see all of this well-rounded evolution play out, right? Um, not so much.

Each guy stepped onto the mat last night carrying a lot more in his tool box than the last time, but neither did much to integrate those new tools into his cage craftsmanship. For 15 minutes, they basically circled and threw punches. Now, it can be exhilarating to watch two guys stand toe to toe and throw leather. But these guys’ toes seldom touched. They mostly kept their distance and stalked each other, probing with jabs and, mainly in the case of Maynard, flinging telegraphed haymakers from way, way outside. We saw no takedowns, no testing of one man’s submissions versus the other’s sub defense. It was no less narrowly defined a fight as their first one, and this time we didn’t even get to see strength vs. strength.

You know the old joke, “I went to a boxing match and a hockey game broke out”? It was a little like that last night, with the striking about as technically sound as Bob Probert vs. Tie Domi, except that the MMA enforcers never got close enough for one to pull the other guy’s sweater over his head. Maynard and Diaz engaged in the kind of wild-swing dance that fans of the Sweet Science would smugly cite as Exhbit A during a boxing vs. MMA debate. Of course, making the argument that boxers are better fighters than mixed martial artists simply because they throw straighter, more accurate punches is as bogus as saying Usain Bolt is a better all-around athlete than Bryon Clay because the world record-smashing Jamaican sprinter would smoke the 2008 Olympic decathlon gold medalist in the 100. Yeah, but how do you think Bolt would fare in the shot put, pole vault and seven other decathlon events? Likewise, how long would it take for B.J. Penn to run down a backpedaling Floyd Mayweather, take him to the mat, and choke him out? A minute? Boxing is but one event in the fighting decathlon, checkers to MMA’s chess.

But I digress.

My point is that while I appreciate the discipline involved in a wrestler or jui-jitsu artist becoming a well-rounded fighter, the fruits of all those laborious workouts sometimes can be lackluster fights. I’m not dissing evolution like some intelligent design nut job. I understand why Maynard stood with Diaz, considering their history on the mat, but I would have preferred to see their rematch take place with the fighters on their feet at times, on the ground at others. I wanted to see a true mix of martial arts. Instead what we got was a couple of guys looking like Joe Frazier trying to swim in the 1973 Superstars.

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Update: Apparently Dana White wasn’t impressed with Gray Maynard either. The day after Fight Night, the UFC president announced that the next challenger for Penn’s lightweight championship will be Frankie Edgar, not Maynard, even though Gray’s 9-0 record includes a victory over Edgar. “The last couple of performances I’ve seen from Gray Maynard,” White told MMA Fighting.com, “I just don’t think he’s ready for B.J. Penn.” But then, who is? We’ll find out if Edgar is ready April 10 at UFC 112 in Abu Dhabi.

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As always, MMA came through with a deep card of strong fights. Former featherweight champs Mike Brown and Uriah Faber both had impressive wins, Brown more dominant but Faber against a more accomplished opponent. And former 2004 Olympic wrestler Kamal Shalorus, in handing Dave Jansen his first loss by seizing control from the start, showed himself to be a player in the lightweight division.

Speaking of the lightweight division, the main event pitted the champion, Jamie Varner, coming off a year-long inactivity because of injury, against interim champ Benson Henderson. It was not the most action-packed fight I’ve seen, but it ended up speaking volumes about perseverance. Varner was the aggressor and had the scoring edge through two rounds. But Henderson was unflappable, and there was this suspicion that his time would come. And sure enough it did come, in the third round, in a flash. Varner shot for a takedown, got caught in a guillotine, and it was over. Henderson’s reign was interim no more.

The suddenness of the finish was stunning, especially considering what had come before. In the first round Varner had caught Henderson in a guillotine, and even as he cranked it tighter, I had a feeling that the fight wasn’t over. I’d seen Henderson in this predicament in his last fight, against Donald Cerrone. The guy must breathe through his ears, because for the second straight bout he calmly worked his way out of a troublesome choke, looking none the worse for wear. It was as though having his airway closed off energized him to fight on. To say Henderson is a survivor is to undersell him.

Not so for Jamie Varner. In the prefight hype, Henderson questioned Varner’s toughness in his last fight, when the champ chose not to go on after being struck by Cerrone with an illegal knee. It appeared to be a glancing blow, but who’s to say how damaged he was? What we can say was that the foul came at the time in the fight — the fifth rugged round — when Varner was gassing and Cerrone was coming on. Did Varner calculate that if he declined to go on and the fight went to the scorecards, he’d win the decision? Who knows? Henderson sure doesn’t, but that didn’t stop him from saying that if it had been him in Varner’s position, he’d have continued fighting.

Fast-forward to last night, specifically to the moment when Henderson clamped on the decisive choke. Varner’s tap came quickly, so quickly that I couldn’t help but view it in contrast it to the way Henderson had fought his way out of trouble. That may not be fair — Henderson’s guillotine may simply be more devastating and inescapable than Varner’s. And far be in for me to question an MMA champ’s toughness. Thankfully I’ve never had someone’s forearm shutting down my brain’s oxygen supply, so I don’t know jack about what it feels like and what goes through the mind of a fighter at a moment like that. But one guy who does know, Versus analyst Frank Mir, seemed surprised by the quick tapout. The former UFC heavyweight champion wondered aloud why Varner didn’t at least try to slam Henderson to the mat as a means of escape. It seemed like a question of perseverance.

Ah, perseverance. After staying up till 2 to watch the DVR-ed WEC fights, and with a UFC Fight Night card on tap for a few hours from now, it looks like I’m in for another late night. Even if the Barefoot Contessa or HGTV or Sex and the City reruns or some sort of Bachelor-type reality show for women looking for their knight in shining armor pushes my MMA viewing to the DVR and beyond the midnight hour, it promises to be way more satisfying TV fare than the NFL playoffs.

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But then I watched what turned out to be a damn good night of fights, and I’ve decided to bravely forge ahead.

First, a little historical perspective:

Originally, the plan for 108 — at least as laid out by several online sources, if not Dana White and Co. themselves — was for Anderson Silva to defend his middleweight championship against former light heavyweight champ Vitor Belfort. But when Silva’s recovery time from elbow surgery wore on, it became clear that the main event needed a heavy makeover, as in a heavyweight title bout between Brock Lesnar and fellow heavy-handed behemoth Shane Carwin. Not bad for a replacement fight, having your top pay-per-view draw standing by.

But then Lesnar fell victim to the mysterious illness — eventually revealed to be a combination of mononucleosis and diverticulitis — that threatens to end his MMA career.

The next main event option was Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira vs. Cain Velasquez, with the winner said to be guaranteed a shot at the heavyweight title. Then Minotauro contracted a staph infection, so that bout was off.

Finally, the UFC hit on a main event that stuck: Rashad Evans vs. Thiago Silva. It wasn’t a title bout but it was as close as you can get, since neither guy had ever lost a fight to anyone other than the unbeaten light heavyweight champion, Lyoto Machida.

As it turned out, Saturday night’s main event wasn’t the most explosive bout you’ll ever see, as Evans turned back the clock to his wrestling days and repeatedly took down Silva, but then did very little damage when the fight was on the ground. That went on for two one-sided, if fairly uneventful rounds. But then, in the third round, Silva began dropping his arms to his sides and sticking out his chin, hoping to draw Evans into a firefight. No dice. Rashad, with two rounds in his pocket, kept his distance. However, Thiago went on the attack and tagged Evans with a vicious hook, and as Rashad retreated, his legs went to jelly.  Silva pounced, putting Evans on his back, but wrestling once again took over, as Rashad tied up the Brazilian striker while he cleared his head. When the fight went back to standing, Silva backed off and motioned for Evans to come forward, perhaps thinking Rashad’s head was still foggy enough that he might make an unwise strategic decision. No such luck. Evans kept his composure … and his distance. That left it up to Thiago to be the aggressor, which didn’t happen, unless you consider waving your arms and jutting out your chin daringly to be an act of aggression. Why didn’t Silva pounce? It looked like his gas tank was empty. But still, when you need a KO, you’ve got to keep moving forward, even if only on fumes. Evans survived and took the decision.

That fight may not make the year-end “best of” list, but overall this cursed card was a winner. As is so often the case at UFC events (and something that truly separates MMA from boxing), the undercard rocked.

Paul Daley, last seen disrupting the welterweight title chase picture by knocking out Martin Kampmann at UFC 103, didn’t give submission ace Dustin Hazelett a chance to take the fight to the mat, smashing him at 2:24 of the first. Daley was supposed to fight Carlos Condit, who pulled out with an injury. The thing is, Hazelett probably presented a bigger challenge. But Daley passed the test.

You could say the same for Junior Dos Santos, who also made short work of a replacement opponent. He was supposed to fight Gabriel Gonzaga, but after Napao fell ill, striker extraordinaire Gilbert Yvel stepped in. Then fell down. At 2:07 of the first.

There was plenty more on this typically deep UFC card. We tend to get caught up in star-gazing, talking about main events and nothing but. However, this sport is growing not because of name fighters but because of great fights. Most mainstream sports fans I know, even guys who work in sports, couldn’t name three MMA fighters. Brock Lesnar made his name in pro rasslin’. Chuck Liddell gained celebrity status by making the cover of ESPN The Magazine, by guest-starring on Entourage, and by Dancing with the Stars. The rest of MMA’s best? Anderson Silva, Lyoto Machida, Georges St-Pierre, B.J. Penn and Fedor Emelianenko could walk arm in arm down Main Street in many cities and not cause a ruckus among the public. That may sound like nonsense to MMA junkies, but I truly believe it.

So it didn’t matter that UFC 108 was stripped of its star power, because star power isn’t what the appeal of MMA is about. What gets my friends’ hearts pumping when they sit with me and watch some octagon action is the fighting. And 108 was not lacking for fighting, not a bit. The sports bar where I go on UFC nights was as crowded as ever on Saturday. Not one beer-swilling patron was heard grumbling about the lack of marquee names or title belts. The fights were on, and that was all anyone cared about.

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