Ultimate fighter Rashad Evans packs a punch
Ultimate fighter Rashad Evans, a graduate of Niagara-Wheatfield, knocked out the legend of mixed-martial arts with one punch that must be seen to be believed
Groans could be heard from the deepest parts of Atlanta’s Philips Arena back on Sept. 6, as the two fighters skipped around the octagon in the first round, hesitant and refusing to engage. They were feeling out one another, but the 14,736 fans didn’t pay big bucks for this. They came to watch Chuck Liddell deliver another knockout.
Liddell was the name and face of the sport, the fighter who had dominated mixed-martial arts for years, the man who was marketed on video games, had written an autobiography, had a cameo on “Entourage.” In many ways, he was a Hollywood figure in a culture of people whose wires seemed slightly disconnected.
He even had the coolest of cool nicknames: The Iceman.
Rashad Evans didn’t care about Liddell’s image or his nickname or the boo-birds pleading for more action. His concern was remaining upright. The fans weren’t in the eight-sided cage, one punch from having someone turn out their lights. They weren’t three feet from the opportunity of a lifetime. And they definitely weren’t there for him. They were just there.
“The crowd wasn’t in there with me,” the Sanborn native said. “If they want to see something, they can take my place. I was just waiting, trying to get my timing down, get his timing down, feel his power and knowing what I can and can’t do. I wasn’t going to rush into anything against Chuck. I had three rounds.”
Looking back, the whole thing felt as if it were in slow motion. Evans figured it was the adrenaline, which heightens awareness in situations, working its magic. Truth be known, nothing could duplicate the charge he felt in the moments before he entered the cage that night and began dancing with a legend in his sport.
So dance he did, all the while looking and reading and computing every move, waiting for one mistake, for the right moment for him to strike and change his life forever. And then . . . bang.
Liddell never saw the punch coming. He was busy trying to throw an uppercut that would send Evans to the canvas and end the fight, if not quiet the groans. Anyone who saw the punch on You Tube would attest it looked like something out of a corny movie, with Liddell coming underneath and Evans simultaneously landing a vicious right.
“I just shot the overhand,” Evans said.
Liddell fell to the mat like a newborn calf, a highlight that generated more than 300,000 hits on You- Tube. Less than three weeks before his 29th birthday, Rashad Evans had arrived. Until then, he had been known mostly for winning the “Ultimate Fighter 2” reality show on Spike TV and earning a draw with UFC superpower Tito Ortiz.
Evans’ next fight is for the UFC light heavyweight championship against Forrest Griffin, scheduled for tonight in MGM Grand Garden Arena in Las Vegas. It marks another turn in his career in professional mixed-martial arts, which combines boxing, wrestling, kickboxing, jujitsu and other forms of fighting.
The purse hasn’t been announced, but Evans stands to make more money in 15 minutes or less than he ever imagined when he was a wrestling and football star at Niagara- Wheatfield High. All because Evans ignored everyone and waited for the right moment to strike.
“It’s so funny because your adrenaline is going so fast that time seems to slow down,” Evans said. “I was seeing his punches. He looked fast when I was watching him on TV during the replay, but during the fight they looked like they were going behind me so slow. I could see his punches coming.”
Supporters are young
Fifteen years ago, mixed martial arts was viewed mostly as an anything- goes sport that was seeded deep into America’s dark, violence-loving subcultures. There were no weight classes and very few rules, a real-life Fight Club that drew fans who were hooked on heart-pumping action and craved the sight of blood.
The media sneered, dismissing cage fighting as an archaic form of entertainment that would eventually fizzle out. Fifteen years later, the sport is stronger than ever. Many believe it will move past boxing in terms of popularity, if it hasn’t already, over the next several years.
MMA’s popularity soared after Ultimate Fighting Championships, which was purchased by Zuffa LLC in 2001, implemented new regulations and an effective marketing strategy. Eventually, the sport tapped into the all-important 18-to-34 demographic and gained acceptance from a generation tethered to YouTube.
“It’s for the younger generation,” said Marc Ratner, 63, UFC vice president for government and regulatory affairs. “I’m probably the oldest guy at every fight. I look around the audience, and it’s mostly tattooed guys with shaved heads. There are very few gray-haired guys like me. The music is different. There’s a lot of energy in the building.”
Once described as “human cockfighting” by Sen. John McCain of Arizona, it has crept into the mainstream and evolved into the fastest-growing sport in the United States. It also has become a billion-dollar industry that helped spawn major companies that have grown simultaneously with the sport.
Ratner, the former head of the Nevada State Athletic Commission, has been involved in mainstream sports for years. He has served as the shot-clock official at University of Nevada- Las Vegas basketball games for more than three decades and is a former Division I football official. He spent years opposed to UFC before it cleaned up its act.
Now, he’s among its top ambassadors. He works with government officials in setting regulations and lifting bans that still exist in 18 states, including New York. And now that it’s rooted with young people, he’s convinced of long-term prosperity. The sport is here to stay for the foreseeable future.
“The demographic is 18 to 35, but I have news for you,” he said. “When these guys turn 36 and 40, they’re still going to like it. They’re not going to turn it off. The [demographic] is going to keep growing, and the sport is going to become more popular. Boxing will be fine, so long as they fight the guys that the public wants to see.”
Rules promote safety
By the way, mixed-martial arts is safer than boxing. MMA fighters are
more adept at defending themselves and use different disciplines rather than constant punching. In boxing, fighters become better with experience, which means more fights and more rounds sparring in their careers and, ultimately, more damage.
“The UFC is by far the safest thing in contact sports,” nine-time UFC welterweight champion Matt Hughes said. “Look at baseball, football, hockey, NASCAR or just about any other sport. They have far more serious injuries. They’ve all had death in their sport. We’re the safest thing out there.”
Seven boxers died while Ratner served with the state commission in Nevada. He said the worst injury during his term with UFC was a broken arm, although middleweight Rich Franklin took a memorable beating at the hands of Anderson Silva two years ago that resulted in Franklin having reconstructive face surgery. Two other mixed-martial arts fighters have died, but not when they were fighting under UFC regulations.
The reason for fewer tragedies, UFC supporters say, is simple:
Referees are more proactive about protecting fighters who can’t defend themselves, and UFC fighters can quit without shame by tapping out.
“The tapout is not something that’s frowned upon,” Hughes said. “It’s not like you say, ‘Uncle’ and give up. You were caught in a submission, so you tap out and live to fight another day.”
And nobody questions your courage?
“When Roberto Duran said, ‘No mas,’ ” Ratner said, “he was a wuss for the rest of his career.”
Revenues climbing
UFC has become the premier mixed-martial arts organization, and its revenues seem limitless despite difficult economic times.
As a private company, Ultimate Fighting Championships is not required to report its revenues. Forbes magazine estimated in May that it would generate some $250 million in revenue this year. It could reach $300 million, with popularity soaring around the world. It has been watched in more than 100 countries.
Ultimate Fighting for years has been popular on pay-per-view. Ideally, it is looking for 1 million viewers, but that has been reached only once. It’s also can be watched via the Yahoo! pay-per-view site. The highest ratings in history were on CBS a few years ago after it signed a deal with defunct Elite XC.
Meanwhile, boxing has had an identity crisis. Many believe UFC will surpass boxing, which could turn boxing into a minor sport or force its extinction. Boxing’s decrease in popularity has coincided with UFC’s rise.
“Who’s the heavyweight champion right now [in boxing]?” Hughes said. “Seven or eight years ago, everyone would know who the heavyweight champion was. It’s amazing how boxing has gone down, and the UFC is up. We’ve done a great job exploiting the good things about our sport and what it’s about. Boxing has torn itself down, and we’ve built ourselves up.”
In 1997, three men from Southern California founded TapouT, a small company that was named after the word MMA fighters use for submission. The company started by selling T-shirts out of the trunk of a car, but 10 years later boasted some $22.5 million in sales. It’s hoping for $100 million in sales this year and $200 million in 2009.
TapouT is a major UFC sponsor, but several recognizable companies such as Budweiser and Harley-Davidson, have climbed aboard in recent years, knowing people are addicted to sports built on excitement, action and adrenaline.
“Anybody that watches NASCAR, adrenaline,” TapouT co-founder Dan Caldwell told the Boston Globe last summer. “Football, adrenaline; hockey, adrenaline; boxing, adrenaline. Whatever is driving you to watch those sports, it’s going to drive you to watch mixed-martial arts.”
Evans started club
Evans’ arrival is a story in itself. As a teenager, he was intrigued by the simple ‘could Superman beat Spiderman” questions kids ask themselves. Could a good street fighter beat a trained boxer? Could a trained wrestler like himself beat a street fighter? What would happen if a trained wrestler became a trained boxer?
He was a wrestler and football player in high school and became the 2000 national junior-college wrestling champion at 165 pounds for Niagara County Community College. His success landed him at Michigan State, where he earned a 48-34 career record and a degree in psychology.
Evans stayed in Lansing and was on a short list to become a police officer when he was greeted by a hiring freeze. The free time allowed him to start his own local fight club with a few friends training in a dingy room in the city. Michigan didn’t allow organized events, so they took their newfound passion to other states and made between $100 and $150.
It led to the “Ultimate Fighter 2,” which led him into UFC, which eventually led him to a meeting with Liddell. It’s now a demanding full-time job. He trains six hours a day in preparation for a fight, spending two hours working on his conditioning, two hours on various disciplines and two hours sparring or punching.
“I thought [as a kid] I was going to be a professional football player,” Evans said. “That’s what I wanted to do. When the Bills went to the Super Bowl and lost to the Giants, man, I never cried so hard in my life.”
Evans isn’t crying anymore. He pocketed $120,000 for the Liddell fight and could see his take climb to the $500,000 range, perhaps much more, if he continues winning while the sport continues to grow.
He also stands to make much more money in video games and promotional companies who want to take advantage of his rising popularity. Apparently, he’s made quite a name for himself.
