Fedor: The Legacy

Following his almighty beasting at the hands of Bigfoot Silva in the Strikeforce Heavyweight Grand Prix, a lot has been made of where Fedor goes from here. Is now the time to call it day? Go out gracefully? Will his evil overlords even let him? It would appear not. So who's next for the fallen icon?

A HW fight with the current LHW champion, of course...

Anyway, Mr Harry Borovick takes a look at the legacy of Fedor and his imprint on MMA:

31-3-1 is an exceptionally impressive record for any type of modern professional combatant. But is a world-class record enough to really build a world-class legacy? This writer thinks not. Fedor will either be remembered by many as the greatest heavyweight to ever step into the cage, or as the most over-hyped, over-protected and over-lauded fighter that has arguably done more to damage the image of the sport than any other athlete in recent times (Jose Canseco doesn't count).

The way in which "The Last Emperor" allowed himself to be managed by the M-1global businessmen such as Vadim Finkelstein showed he did not respect MMA as a sport whatsoever. Those who respect the rise of mixed martial arts as a legitimate form of sports entertainment understand its popularity and growth stems from unified management by organizations rather than selective promoters (a la boxing). This has eliminated much of the ego in the forming of deals and the staging of fights. A fighter signs a contract, and then he consents to do whatever that organization tells him to do. At the very core of Dana White's success (and to some extent CEOs such as Scott Coker and Bjorn Rebney) is his establishment of who's the boss between them and their fighters. Obviously fighters have to be respected to a certain extent as they are the show-piece and the actual mechanism for profit, but no fighter is so exceptionally valuable that he out-values the entire organization for which he fights for. Even fighters such as Georges St. Pierre, the most marketable athlete in MMA, understands that their career and success depends on good fights, strong promotion and the health of the sport in general.

Fedor's time as a great fighter was up when he got demolished twice in two fights, even he had to admit that. It is in a way ridiculous that he would not have been fighting for Strikeforce, but would have been in the UFC fighting for a considerably higher sum and a better deal if he had not consented to the poor management of M-1. I say this is ridiculous because Fedor's record was only built up in the first place because of such extraordinarily selective fight choices up until that point. This shows that not only has poor management in Fedor's case by his manager Vadim Finkelstein built a fake legacy around a fighter, but that it has damaged the sport as a whole because when a fighter is built up so highly and then is knocked down so easily it damages the legitimacy of a sport. When there is such a high level of professionalism all fights are expected to be highly competitive, close, and entertaining. Watching Fedor he has been none of these for a considerable period of time, something which is highly concerning for anyone who cares about the health of this sport.

M-1, Vadim Finkelstein and others of the same school of management need to leave MMA well alone if the sport is ever to grow and be respected universally. This is by no means a dying sport like boxing, however it is certainly increasingly restrained by unscrupulous people trying to take advantage of sportsmen to make a quick buck and further purely selfish ambitions.

The Downfall Of The Last Emperor

Get over it.

Ode to the Journeyman

Mr Brendan Rowe's:

Ode to the Journeyman

The nature of the elite maintains that only a very small percentage of men and women will inhabit the upper echelon. This fact holds true for everyday life as well as sports; in combat sports, it is also a painfully obvious fact. Most boxing-related casualties stem from six-round slug-fests between two journeymen. Journeymen, of course, make up the gristle of competitors in MMA. They are the men we never talk about unless they, through hard work, determination, and luck, beat all odds and amaze us with a reckless display of ability. They tend to win against long odds in such spectacular fashion it almost seems like a rigged match. Why else couldn't they have won sooner and saved themselves from the medical bills? Is it talent or sheer dumb luck? Why don't they break off into the levels of elitism themselves? Why do I keep asking rhetorical questions?

MMA needs its journeymen just as much as society needs its heavy laborers and grocery baggers. Journeymen may find fame eluding them, but they gain note through the rare times that they actually beat somebody. Some journeymen are only mentioned and remembered because they provided that one embarrassing loss on another fighter's spotless record. In this court, journeyman is king.

Randy Couture is lord and master of the journeymen. I expect that many of you, upon reading this, are asking exactly what the hell I'm talking about, but just think about his record. Couture is a mixed bag of wins and losses who is remembered for coming out against long odds and standing his ground against men who are supposed to roll right over him. It isn't his talent that wins him fights and has made him a five-time champion; it’s the grit and determination of a journeyman. Couture, like most journeymen, is consistently at a disadvantage against his opponents (on paper), but always finds a way to win, if not be embarrassed. An opponent of The Natural, Gabriel Gonzaga, is only remembered for his head kick knock-out of Mirko Cro Cop and the ensuing title shot. He has no large fan base or claim to fame otherwise, and falls under the opposite spectrum of the journeyman: the one-shot.

The one-shot journeyman tends to fight his heart out one his way to a title shot, in which he is inevitably and inexplicably defeated. Nearly everybody that Anderson Silva has fought in recent history is one-shot journeyman. Of the last four title defenses, two men are no longer in the UFC (Thales Leites and Patrick Cote), one is fighting one of the Ultimate Fighter winners that we don't care about, and the other is mistaken for some Hispanic guy. However, Anderson Silva has been victimized by the journeyman. Flash back to 2003. Anderson Silva is fighting Daiju Takase, a nobody with a 9-13 record who is only notable through the fact that he once submitted Anderson Silva with a triangle choke, effectively ending the Spider's nine fight winning streak. Otherwise, Takase is a hack. Jump forward to 2004, and Silva is fighting another heavy underdog in Ryo Chonan. Silva smacks Chonan down for nearly seventeen minutes (note: PRIDE FC rounds were ten minutes, five minutes, and five minutes. Sadistic, eh?). Finally, Chonan leaps into a flying scissor takedown and transitions into a heel hook. Silva taps and cries like Forrest Griffin.

What did Anderson Silva learn from his humiliating submission losses? He learned to never keep a man backed into a corner for too long, and he learned to FEAR the submission specialist. Feel free to talk jive about his poor performances against Demian Maia and Thales Leites, but know that those performances stem from the fact that he lost to men who weren’t as recognized as these two. If he hadn’t lost by submission in his past, he might not still be the champion.

Cung Le was a very celebrated Sanshou fighter who held an undefeated record in Sanshou and kickboxing circles. As a mixed-martial artist, he was expected to cruise into an undefeated streak. He learned the hard way about backing a man into a corner for too long. Cung Le had built up a year and a half worth of ring rust pursuing an acting career before stepping back into a cage to regain his abandoned Strikeforce belt. His opponent was a gimme; Scott Smith, a former UFC contender known for taking a beating and somehow snatching come-from-behind victories. Cung Le, like Mirko Cro Cop before him, was expected to sail into an easy victory for a title shot. For twelve minutes, it looked like he would. However, his inability to finish a technically inferior fighter cost him his immaculate record and Cung Le is stopped by a desperate last-attempt flurry. Sure, Cung Le avenged that lost a few months later, but it was proven that he is not invincible. Fighting in the movies is all he does now.

If a fighter is told he is invincible for long enough, he starts to believe it. Fedor Emelianenko had gone from the 21st of May, 2000 to the 7th of November, 2009 with only one loss on his record, and this loss is contended and deserves an asterisk due to the illegality of the maneuver that caused it. Still, Emelianenko was considered by many to be a different breed, a chubby Russian juggernaut that steamrolled over every opponent set before him, regardless of size or odds. In steps Fabricio Werdum. Werdum had won several grappling competitions, including the ADCC, CBJJ, and PAC competitions several times, but was an underdog and had mediocre striking ability. Fedor had fought other jiu-jitsu masters and won in several decision victories (Big Nog twice, Ricardo Arona, Renato Sobral), and was expected to go into his tenth year without being defeated. Believing in his invincibility, he makes a rookie mistake and falls on/pursues Werdum to the ground. One minute and nine seconds into the fight, the juggernaut had been stopped by submission.

As the dust settles and the sun rises, as the blood is cleaned from the cage and the warriors retire to their beds, one man is left holding the torch. The journeyman remains a constant threat to other competitors. What he lacks in natural ability and talent he makes up for with piss and vinegar. The journeyman will take a fight against any odds, even against the elite. He might not always win, he might not put on a good show when he takes a whomping, but every so often, he writes his name in the pages of the sport’s history in spectacular fashion. We expect the Silva’s, the Emelianenko’s, and the Le’s to be great, so much so that their wins don’t impress us in the slightest. What are more impressive are the average men who, by the grace of god, find a way to stop these monsters. It may be the only fights they’re known for, but it sure as hell beats the anonymity of the mediocre.