As most of you probably know, I was fortunate enough to attend UFC 102 in Portland this Saturday as a credentialed member of the media. I write freelance for Sherdog.com, and my editors asked me to attend the event in sort of a B-Squad capacity. My mission was simple: back up Sherdog bigwig (and all-around cool dude) Greg Savage on the under-card play-by-play and produce a short story fueled by on-site reporting. Believe me, it’s harder than it sounds. Check out my story here.
In addition to Greg and myself, Sherdog sent staff photographer Dave Mandel to snap some shots from cage side. I worked with Dave a few months ago while covering my first event for Sherdog in Tacoma, WA. He’s a real pro. Check out Dave’s documentation of the main event here.
This being my first UFC, I knew I had to post a reaction (and justify why I went 2-3 on my picks … ). I also knew it had been a long time since I’d done a running diary of any kind. Yep, it’s happening.
Here is my experience in full:
3:29 PM, PST: I arrive at the Rose Garden, hoping desperately that I don’t get lost while picking up my press pass. While waiting in line to receive my badge, I strike up a conversation with the gentleman behind me, who just happens to be ESPN photographer Ric Fogel. After I finish swallowing my tongue and grunting at Ric, some good fortune strikes, and the lady with the necklaces is convinced enough by my ID to allow me entry. Bullet number one: dodged.
3:33: OH MY GOD WHERE DO I GO WHERE DO I GO????
3:36: After scoping out the seating in the arena (which I’m fairly familiar with thanks to attending Trail Blazer games), I return to the backstage area and enter something labeled “Media Room.” Upon walking through the door, I am greeted by about seven tables of people all chowing down on some type of catered edibles. Most are staring into their laptop screens, their fingertips slamming keys at a furious pace. Not wanting to appear out of place, I follow suit and begin typing up this diary, checking over my shoulder every so often to make sure no one is actually reading what I’m writing.
3:59: I muster the courage to stand and snag a piece of honeydew melon from the food table nearest me. To my surprise, no one throws me out for this act. I arrogantly take another piece. Delicious.
4:09: I reenter the arena proper and begin walking around. Famous people are all over the place. Welterweight contender Thiago Alves, UFC Heavyweight Champ Brock Lesnar, ring announcer Bruce Buffer, broadcast team Mike Goldberg and Joe Rogan, jiu-jitsu wizard Eddie Bravo … I could shout at all of them, and they’d probably look at me. I choose instead to play it cool and act like an adult. I immediately regret my decision.
4:11: After a little directional assistance from an usher (he pointed to the blocked-off area 10 feet from where we were standing), I expertly navigate my way to the press row, which is actually three rows, and the seats are more or less right on top of the cage. In a state of shock, I look down and see my name scribbled on a piece of paper, confirming that I was indeed allowed to sit 15 feet from the Octagon. You have to understand that at smaller events, I had been relegated to back-row floor seats where I had to crane my neck at awful angles just to get a look at the action. Not this time. Awesome.
4:20: I run into Greg and Dave cageside, and they tell me that they’re going back to the media room to snag some food before the first fight starts at 4:45.
4:24: I’m seated at a table across from UFC matchmaker Joe Silva. I shake his hand as Greg introduces me. Joe’s a nice guy.
4:45: Back on the arena floor, the event begins as Greg and I fire up our laptops. For some reason, Greg’s computer is having a hard time connecting to the Rose Garden wireless network. Greg asks me to fill in for him and write the play-by-play for the first fight. This might be the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me. Local product Evan Dunham performs as I expected and wins a dogfight against savvy vet Marcus Aurelio. This one would have been fight of the night were it not for the main event.
5:10: With Greg’s computer finally firing on all cylinders, I keep one eye on the action and one eye on the guy sitting in front of me: John Canzano. I see him shake his head from time to time and whisper to somebody sitting beside him. Let’s just say I knew that this article was coming long before he sat down at his laptop.
Side note: For the record, Canzano did absolutely zero rooting or cheering. Believe me. I would have noticed. And as far as under-card competitor Chris Tuchscherer getting “kicked in the family jewels so hard that he spit blood,” I have to set the record straight. Canzano was sitting roughly three feet in front of me. We had a nearly identical view of the action. I didn’t see Tuchscherer spit any blood. I saw him writhe in agony. I saw him sweat bullets. I saw him almost vomit in a bucket. But I didn’t see him spit blood. That’s probably because Tuchscherer was facing AWAY FROM PRESS ROW THE ENTIRE TIME. Unless Canzano was looking at a big screen that was showing something different than the other seven big screens, I have to question his account.
And even if Tuchscherer did split blood, it wasn’t from that groin shot, anyway. I don’t think that’s even biologically possible. I’ve spent my whole life following sports. Full-contact sports. Combat sports. I have never once seen or heard of anybody throughout the history of sport spitting up blood because they took a shot to the groin. Catchers take 90 mph fastballs that ricochet off the plate into their cup all the time. Body shots stray low in boxing (see Andrew Golota, pg. 23). Linemen get trampled in awful places by 300-pound men. Kickboxers accidentally miss their opponent’s thigh and catch his cup instead. Soccer players miss the ball and hit … well, you know. It happens. It’s accidental. Get over it.
Don’t get me wrong. I feel for Tuchscherer. That’s a terrible spot to be in — having to decide whether you want to quit, take a no-contest and invalidate all of your hard work and training after a five minute recovery period that feels like five seconds. But the shot was far from intentional, and there was nothing anyone could do about it except ask the Minnesota Martial Arts Academy fighter if he wanted to continue.
So why would Canzano write such a thing? Could it be that he wants to exaggerate and sensationalize the violence of the sport so that his position is perceived as one of nobility and intelligence rather than one of fear and ignorance?
Dear Mr. Canzano: Please stop attending MMA events. Please stop writing MMA columns. There are plenty of us who understand this sport, and we love to report this sport to our readers. We’ve got it covered. If we need any help, we’ll ask. Sound good?
5:30 This Todd Duffee is one beast of a young man. But Hague is no slouch. His last fight against Pat Barry proved he could OH MY GOD THAT’S THE MOST ONE-SIDED BEATDOWN I’VE EVER SEEN.
5:45: Greg nudges me, and I awake to the worst situation possible: the Russow/McCully fight is not only still ongoing, but they’ve yet to get out of the second round. I contemplate drawing little pupils on my eyelids, but ultimately decide that Greg is too sharp a customer to fall for such a trick. Dang.
6:25: I’m not sure what to make of Gabe Gonzaga these days. I feel like somewhere deep down inside of him, there’s still a guy who could challenge for the title. One thing’s for sure: groin shot or no, he’s not going to re-establish himself as a top contender if he keeps fighting Chris Tuchscherers in dark matches. He looked great against number one contender Shane Carwin before Carwin refused to lose and started landing shots. Gabe is a tough customer, but his losses to both Couture and Carwin seemed to be due to mental breakdowns. He is a physical specimen and has all the tools to be a top-five guy, but if his mind isn’t right, none of that matters.
6:29: As Brock Lesnar helps his teammate Tuchscherer exit the cage, a group of scrawny twenty-somethings heckle the heavyweight champion, shouting profane and emasculating insults at the 380 lb. silverback gorilla. This is not what I would call intelligence personified.
6:35: I cringe as Ed Herman’s left knee explodes after an ill-advised roundhouse kick in round two. Ouch.
6:47: I notice Canzano interviewing Todd Duffee in the hall. As their conversation ends, I jump in for the kill and squeeze a two minute interview out of the American Top Team fighter. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that this kid is built like Optimus Prime. I have no idea what size T-shirt this guy wears, but whatever it is, it’s too small for him. He’s a confident young man, and rightfully so. I, for one, am eager to see how he fairs against a top-10 heavyweight.
7:30: Seriously, Brandon, is it too much to ask for you to show a little of that famous killer instinct? What happened to that guy who destroyed a half-healthy Frank Mir? Ah, well, a win is a win, I guess. Whit’s Picks are looking like pure gold. First class all the way to the bank, baby.
7:45: Nate Marquardt nearly punches a hole through Demian Maia’s dome, and my picks receive a sudden demotion to coach seating and are promptly served a lukewarm piece of chicken-shaped rubber and forced to watch White Chicks while a baby screeches nearby. I wish I could be mad, but honestly, that’s just a beautiful counter by Marquardt. He did his homework, and he was rewarded justly. Demian, on the other hand, learned a valuable lesson: if you’re the scariest jiu-jitsu player in your weight division, maybe it’s not such a good idea to do your Jean-Claude Van Damme impression when a title shot is at stake. Repeat after me. Close the distance. Clinch. Sweep the leg. Submit the opponent. Celebrate.
8:04: Jake Rosholt decides to stand with Chris Leben, and he’s somehow getting the better of the exchanges. This wouldn’t have been my strategy, but hey, whatever works. Rosholt is dominating this thing. Leben looks tired. And now, he looks unconscious. Nice arm triangle by Rosholt.
8:09: I notice Dwight Jaynes sitting in the back of the press box, arms folded. I can’t tell if he’s disgusted by what he’s watching or if he’s admiring the athleticism. I’m dying to know.
Side note: When I came home, and found this piece on Dwight’s blog. I guess I’ve got my answer. I had no idea that Dwight was buddies with Couture. Also, make sure you check out the link in his story, or just click here for a phenomenal take on Saturday night and the turnout from the Portland media.
8:45: Thiago Silva is a lethal human being. Jardine is on his feet and being escorted backstage by his trainer, Greg Jackson. Jackson places a calm hand on Jardine’s back, trying to relieve the swelling disappointment coursing throughout his fighter’s body. Jardine’s teammate, former light heavyweight champ Rashad Evans, leaves his cageside seat and approaches the beaten fighter. Evans pats Jardine on the triceps and offers a consoling half-smile. Jardine will have none of it. He’s still in a state of shock over the defeat. Both trainer and teammate gently attempt to pull Jardine toward the locker room, but the fighter stands his ground, staring first back at the cage, then looking upward to one of the giant monitors displaying proof of Silva’s one-sided win. Jardine eventually relents and quietly walks to the dressing room.
Side note: It really didn’t look like that left hook landed all that flush, but clearly it had enough behind it to put Jardine on his ear. Merciful stoppage from Herb Dean. I think this puts Thiago right in the thick of the title picture. I figure he needs one or two more fights to really show everybody that he’s put the Machida loss behind him, and then he’ll have earned a shot at the strap. Of course Rampage and Rashad will eventually have it out to settle The Feud that Nobody Cares About, with the winner most likely getting a crack at either Machida or Shogun, depending on who wins in September. After that, though, the door should be wide open for Thiago, provided he beats his next opponent (perhaps the loser of September’s title fight).
10:00: I think I can sum up the main event with a short story: I was seated directly between Greg Savage on my left and MMA Junkie’s John Morgan on my right. As round two was coming to a close, Morgan started laughing and turned to me, shouting over the raucous crowd, “I don’t know what I was expecting, but this is better!”
My thoughts exactly, John.
Couture/Nogueira was the perfect example of why we watch sports. Every so often something special happens, and when you’re able to catch that moment live, as it’s happening, it’s a total rush. I’ll admit to being more than a little excited during the main event. How could you not be? I had to contain myself on several occasions, or I would have jumped out of my seat and started applauding. For both men. But I’m not ashamed of that fact. All that means is that I was watching a great fight, and I had an emotional response. Writers are fans, too. And human beings. It was a pleasure to cover this event.
10:45: I finish typing up my story on Duffee’s record KO and send it to my editors. I zip up my laptop case and say goodbye to Ric Fogel, who I spot at a nearby table. Savage and Mandel have left for their hotel, and I start making my way toward home. Rather than just leaving the way I came, though, I decide it’s a good idea to take a “shortcut” through the parking garage. Fifteen minutes and four locked doors later and I’m pretty worried that I’m actually going to die in the bowels of the Rose Garden.
Luckily for you guy, I managed to Roger Moore my way out of there. And I barely even cried.
Well, that’s all folks. UFC 102 was a fantastic experience, and I can’t wait until the big show is back in town. Now, who’s ready for some college football talk? You? Well, then you’re in luck. Come on back tomorrow for OSL’s first ever podcast. We’ll be talking Duck football, as Oregon invades Idaho and tries to get some revenge on the blue turf.
In less than 24 hours, the largest mixed martial arts promotion on the planet will set up shop in the Rose Garden for the very first time. The UFC’s journey to Portland was an improbable one. On the verge of financial collapse on multiple occasions throughout its 16-year history, MMA’s flagship organization now receives mainstream media coverage from ESPN and Sports Illustrated and holds sold-out events all over the world.
Undefeated UFC newcomer and Oregon native Evan Dunham was kind enough to grant OSL some exclusive insight into his upcoming lightweight fight against MMA veteran Marcus “Maximus” Aurelio on Saturday night at the Rose Garden. Aurelio signed to fight Dunham as a last-second replacement after Dunham’s original opponent and fellow undefeated upstart Matt Veach was forced to withdraw due to injury. Dunham has amassed an 8-0 professional record and most recently knocked out Per Eklund in his UFC debut at UFC 95 in London, England. He was born and raised in Eugene and is a graduate of the University of Oregon.