(slow jazz music)
- [Narrator] No one's ever content to just like something,
especially not nowadays.
In his 2005 book American Theocracy,
former republican strategist Kevin Phillips postulated
that Americans' language choices
and media consumption habits, in correlation with our
increasing wealth inequality and right wing politics,
showed us tilting more towards a theocratic monarchy
than a republic.
We were not just fans of things anymore,
we declare our media consumption habits
to determine the types of people we are,
segregating ourselves by
which reality TV family we identify with.
The rich make-believe duck hicks
or the impossibly beautiful children
of one of O.J. Simpson's friends.
We assign political meaning to individual pop stars
and spend countless hours fighting battles
for them online against faceless drones.
Battles that our millionaire entertainers
will probably never give a shit about
or even find out about.
When the idea of executing power in the division
of resources was abandoned as a political possibility,
we threw all our eggs into culture,
and now if someone doesn't like something we like,
they hate us, our way of life, and our identities.
Onto the very secure Dana White.
Pay-per-view buys were 10 to 20 times
what they were six short years before.
Dana had never made it a secret
that he wanted the UFC brand of MMA to be as big
as the NFL or MBA.
In 2008, he projected that in the next five years,
the UFC would be bigger than soccer globally.
In 2012, he declared that it would be the biggest brand
in the world, bigger than the NFL.
In 2014, he claimed that the UFC was already bigger
than soccer in Brazil.
Dana's obsession makes sense,
primarily from a money standpoint
as the already incredibly wealthy UFC president
and nine percent stakeholder would stand to be a billionaire
dozens of times over.
But Dana White is also an MMA fan,
and there's a very real insecurity in MMA fans.
Whether you're watching a shitty UK stream
on your friend's off-brand tablet,
or you're the president of the world's biggest promotion,
sometimes you may feel a little self-conscious
about our dumb sport.
Everyone who loves this sport has had a moment
where they watch an event with a friend,
a family member, or a romantic partner.
It was probably during the pay-per-view golden age
of the late 2000s, where the person you hoped would become
just as obsessed as you, saw men in awful tattoos
wearing shorts that said "Condom Depot"
in huge letters on them, push one another
against a fence for 15 minutes.
Or one just completely teed off on the other
and made him leak before making him fall victim
to a scary falling tree knockout.
Either way, your target audience found it too weird,
too boring, too terrifying,
or all three.
And the cultural image of MMA fighters is a bunch
of enormous angry men with weird tattoos
who always seem to be yelling.
And the image of fans is a sea of guys with big guts
and chiseled arms wearing Affliction shirts
and getting wasted before assaulting random passers-by.
But does it matter?
We love this sport.
We love the weird people like Jon Jones who are actually
pretty fascinating when you get to know them,
and have more depth than most would know.
We know those grappling exchanges that people find boring
often take a lot of skill.
When we see someone fall like they just got ripped
by a Barrett 50 cal,
we know it's no more dangerous than any given second
of NFL action.
We love it,
and that's all that should matter.
And Dana White loves it,
and he's made hundreds of millions of dollars
more than we have.
So, he should be even happier with it than we are.
And who gives a shit if we don't have hundreds
of millions of people watching with us every time?
And why do we care if people think we're fucked up
or weird for watching it?
We know what our sport is,
and we know who we are.
From the most stereotypical ones,
to the grandmothers and grad students who get just as
excited as the Affliction shirt guys for every card.
It's our stupid, violent, insane spectacle sport
for freaks and assholes that's as legitimate
or illegitimate as any other sport in the world.
(soft jazz music)
Well, at least it was ours at some point.
(soft jazz music)
Sometimes you want something so bad,
you don't care how bad it is for you.
And the UFC just really wanted that legitimacy.
Now, most of the sports that Dana and the UFC wishes
that MMA was more like have three commonalities.
One is a network TV presence.
The next is standardized uniforms.
And the third is drug testing.
After the gold rush of the late 2000s,
the UFC achieved all three to the detriment of the viewers,
the fighters, and ultimately, themselves.
First came the Fox deal.
In August of 2011, the UFC announced
that they had signed a deal with Fox Sports.
Previously, the UFC would air the preliminaries
to their big pay-per-views on Spike TV,
which also housed the Ultimate Fighter.
Now, Fox Sports and FX would air prelims
and the Ultimate Fighter,
but more importantly,
there were to be hugely important fights held
on Fox's main channel on network TV.
People freaked out.
Our sport had made it.
(soft jazz music)
We're no longer airing fights in between shows called,
like, "Boner Patrol" and "Boob Professor."
We're network now.
(soft jazz music)
Everyone rhapsodized about the big network TV boxing matches
of the 1970s and 80s,
reasoning that our sport that was once relegated
to a dumb cable channel for idiots, like Spike
and pay-per-view, would have the cultural importance
of Muhammad Ali and Sugar Ray Leonard's historic bouts.
Mice and Men though.
(soft jazz music)
On the first network TV UFC card ever,
heavyweight champion Cain Velasquez was brought in
to defend his belt against Brazilian boxing specialist
Junior dos Santos.
In what fight watchers thought would be the UFC opening up
the Mexican market.
Cain was undefeated, had just destroyed Brock Lesnar,
and was very proud of his Mexican heritage.
He was supposed to use his brutal wrestle boxing
to destroy JDS over the course
of an exciting 25 minute fight,
and win millions of new Mexican fans tuning into Fox.
(soft jazz music)
dos Santos knocked him out in 64 seconds.
(dramatic music)
The UFC's production team spent the next 40 or so minutes
awkwardly filling time as Dana gritted his teeth
and Fox executives probably tossed their 10 gallon hats
on the ground.
Maybe God was trying to tell Dana White something.
After this bad omen, people started realizing what the deal
actually meant.
While there would be some big matches on network,
Fox inked the deal because the UFC would bring viewers
to unloved cable networks like Fuel TV
and Fox Sports 1 and 2.
(dramatic music)
To sweeten the pot more,
the deal mandated that the UFC owed constant fights
on those platforms.
In meeting their obligation without burying big events
on smaller platforms,
the UFC greatly increased the amount of events
they held every year.
Their promotion went from 27 events in 2011,
all the way to 41 in 2016.
In comparison, there were 20 events for all of 2009.
Because it increased the amount of cards,
that necessitated contracting more fighters
to save the more skilled athletes with more fans
to the biggest money-makers on pay-per-view
and Big Fox as MMA fans called it.
The roster of fighters under contract used to be
the mostly steady 200 to 300 range
with a half dozen cut at a time for performance
or other issues.
Now, it will swell to the upper 500s
before dozens are cut at once after they lose several
in a row, lose once in a particularly boring fashion,
blow a drug test, or just annoy the company in one way
or the other.
The company then finds some more guys
that they can shove out there.
Someone may say that it's good
that more fighters are getting paid.
Well, you can hardly call the highly temporary space-fillers
the UFC pumps and dumps paid.
The lowest level signees get $10,000 to show
and $10,000 to win.
Pretty good, right?
Nope. Let's say our guy shows up and wins.
He gets $20,000 for 15 minutes of work or less, right?
(dramatic music)
At the end of the day,
he's probably looking at about $7,000 for his trouble
if he wins.
If you're a moron, you'll say that's for 15 minutes of work.
He had to train for two months
and will get to fight three more times that year
at the very most.
If he wins all those, which is highly unlikely,
he takes home 28,000 fucking dollars for getting CTE,
not getting licenses or skills for the other jobs he
would need after the decade of fighting he could do
at the very most,
and shithead podcasters making fun of his haircut
on Twitter during his thankless task
of filling the undercard.
(soft dramatic music)
So, after oversaturating fans,
making cards shittier and less important,
and Uber-izing fighter labor,
the UFC decided the next step to legitimacy
was standardizing how fighters dressed.
Just a few years ago,
there was a middle class in fighting.
These were guys who never won a belt
and often never even fought for one.
But through a mix of exciting fights,
unique personalities, and strong fan bases,
were able to skewer loads of sponsorship money
for every fight.
But in 2014, the UFC put a stop to that.
They announced that they had signed a reported six year,
70 million dollar deal with Reebok.
UFC had, in recent years, imposed a heavy sponsor tax
to get their cut of the action.
But now they were the action.
They claimed that the majority of the deal
would be paid out to fighters and benefit newbies the most.
As it happened, newbies got $2500,
later bumped to 3500 to wear the company's hideous
and boring apparel.
While it's more than many got,
it's still a pittance
and the problem with the lower rung of fighters
not making enough could be solved by the UFC
just paying them more.
Veterans, on the other hand, got comprehensively fucked.
Before the Reebok deal,
there was no limit on how much they could make
in sponsorship money.
Now, their ceiling is $40,000 per fight.
While this may seem like a great deal
when combined with a champion
or main event fighter's pay,
keep in mind that our athletes have 10 years
where they could do this if they're lucky,
maybe three years of fighting at such a high level,
and very often have no other marketable skills
for when their bodies and brains are too beaten up
to continue.
And the middle class, they are wiped out.
Now that the sport looked more boring,
fighters were stretched more financially,
and there were way too many fights,
let's take a gander at that third chamber
of sports legitimacy.
Stringent drug testing.
(soft music)
The vast majority of your favorite athletes use steroids,
and no it doesn't make them bad people,
and no it doesn't make them invincible.
It gives them more strength and endurance,
but most importantly for them,
it helps them recover from injury.
Steroids are actually kind of amazing.
The human body is absolutely not designed to fight
for 15 to 25 minutes,
but steroids help make it work.
And those injuries that were once death sentences
to a fighter's career,
stuff like ACL tears,
steroids will help with those.
I mean, yes, they have their side effects of course,
but my point is, it is impossible to compete
at the highest levels of fighting
without some chemical help.
Talk to any retired fighter,
and they'll give you a number anywhere
from 75 to 90 percent
of their former training partners juicing.
Well, in June of 2015, the UFC announced
it was starting an anti-doping program
with the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency.
And man has it fucked things up.
The punishment for performance-enhancing drugs,
which can often just be byproducts of over-the-counter
substances, are two years for a first offense,
double for your second,
and double that for your third.
For substances like cocaine and marijuana,
it's the same math except one year
for a fighter's first offense.
It used to be banned for a year at most,
and that was if you flagged a few times before.
Now, we have to be very capricious
so people will respect our sport.
USADA testing has flagged numerous fighters,
great and small, for the wrong stuff in their blood.
But at the absolute highest level of the sport,
no one was derailed by this as much as Jon Jones.
(dramatic piano music)
Jones became the champion of the light-heavyweight division
in 2011, utterly thrashing Shogun Rua in a fight
that made us all a little sad
and maybe hate Jones just a little bit.
He was a giant freak athlete who did moves
that he learned off of YouTube to humiliate fighters
we grew up with.
And to make it worse, he was a goody-goody
who bragged that he snitched on kids who smoked weed
when he was still in high school.
He met Lyoto Machida and Rampage Jackson,
and ran through the two beloved former champions,
angering people even more.
(dramatic piano music)
But as Fleetwood Mac said, "Time may be bolder,
"even children get older,
"and I'm getting older too."
As we got to know Jon more,
we saw his personal foibles
like his DUI arrest and rivalry with Rashad Evans.
We no longer saw the fake moralizing asshole
who beat everyone up.
We saw a uniquely damaged guy who experienced
the death of his sister at a young age,
being the skinny runt amongst two brothers in the NFL,
becoming a father at an age too young,
and also happening to be the best in the world
at beating the shit out of other people.
He was a person with failings who sometimes acted
like an asshole,
got pissed off, and said incredibly cutting things
to his opponents.
But he had real human vulnerabilities we almost never saw.
He had an incredible rivalry with Olympic wrestler
Daniel Cormier, and holy shit dude,
those guys hate each other.
(audience yells)
Before defending his title in May,
Jon had a hit-and-run incident
and was stripped of his belt.
And then proceeded to power lift for a year straight,
and he became great at that too.
He came back in April of 2016 to defeat Ovince Saint Preux
in order to capture the interim light-heavyweight belt.
He was Napoleon returning from Elba,
poised to make 10 million dollars in a rematch
for the unified belt with Daniel Cormier at UFC 200,
one of the biggest cards of all time.
Three days before.
(loud bang)
He got popped by USADA and was suspended for a year.
Still young, Jon returned in July of 2017
to fight Cormier again,
who was the new king in his absence.
It was an emotional lead-up with both men expressing
their undying hatred for one another
even more than the last time.
- [Jon] The guy has never beaten me.
In order to be the champion,
you have to beat the champion.
Until he beats me, that belt over there is a piece of shit.
- Are you back, junkie?
- [Jon] I'm back.
(laughter)
I'm back, motherfucker. - You got two more months
before you're actually back. - Yeah, yeah.
Exactly, and you better love
these next two months, Daniel.
Which I'm sure you do.
Make Christmas cards now
because the belt's gonna be gone, Daniel.
- Imma beat your punk ass. - Hey!
Did you guys forget?
- Imma beat your punk ass. - Did you forget?
- Stop looking for them to save you.
- There's a record-- - They can't save you.
Is he really gonna be in Anaheim?
Is this guy gonna mess this up again
by doing steroids or snorting cocaine
or sandblasting prostitutes?
- I beat you after a weekend of cocaine.
Back-to-back weekends.
Cocaine, one, your ass the next.
- [Daniel] That's one hell of a weekend
for a millionaire druggie.
(dramatic electronic music)
- [Narrator] In an amazing, close fight,
with Jon Jones being Jon Jones,
he knocked Cormier out with a street fighter head kick.
(dramatic electronic music)
And also because he is Jon Jones,
he tested positive for PEDs again.
Is he a fucking idiot?
In the sense of blowing up his own career, yes.
But in combat, Jones is a genius
who can destroy world champions
with stuff he saw in a movie.
The equivalent of those savant kids who can hear a song
once and instantly play it on piano perfectly.
It used to matter less if you acted like an idiot.
Everyone was a bit of an idiot in one manner
or the other in life,
but God forbid you now embarrass the sport
in front of a world that has already deemed you niche.
It's a little bit amazing to me that Dana White,
a fervent Trump supporter who spoke
at the Republican National Convention in 2016
is so obsessed with achieving norms.
What are you, afraid that people won't respect you?
There is no respect anymore.
There is no veneer in front of the spectacle and vulgarity.
And you wanted it that way.
(dramatic music)
Why you trying to stick Jeb Bush's exclamation point
on MMA?
(dramatic music)
The UFC admittedly made some good decisions in the 2010s.
The promotion now features Women's MMA
all because Dana White really, really liked Ronda Rousey,
and created the 135 pound women's division in 2013
just for her.
Rousey was a massive star,
earning millions in pay-per-view buys
and destroying everyone in her path.
With only one meaningful rival in Miesha Tate.
Tate never beat her,
she just found a way to last all the way
into the third round before getting destroyed.
Which was two rounds longer than anyone else to that point.
Rousey ended up doing movies,
and somewhere along the way,
lost her love of the sport
just as people figured out her game.
She got knocked out by Holly Holm after a first round
that looked like she was trying to setup
what she always did and just couldn't,
and steamrolled without a prayer by Amanda Nunes.
But thanks to the necessity of more fights,
we also got the women's 115 pound division,
and even Women's MMA agnostics and haters
eventually had to conceded that it had some amazing fights.
Joana Jedrzejczyk, a Polish Muay Thai standout
with an unbelievably charming personality
and extraordinary cruel streak.
- Compare me to them, come on.
They cannot compare themselves to me.
They cannot.
I'm telling to them bow down,
bow down. I'm the queen.
Thank you guys.
- [Narrator] Ran the table at strawweight for awhile
before getting knocked out bad by Rose Namajunas.
What's interesting about the 115 pound division is
that Women's MMA used to be notorious
for lacking exciting knockouts,
smooth technique, and more than one
or two great fighters per division.
Of course, this was a function of there being no money
or air time in it.
Pioneers like Gina Carano and Cristiane Justino
paved the way by demolishing
their far less skilled competition.
But it was a few years before Rousey showed up,
made insane amounts of money,
and made dozens of women realize it could be a viable path.
The UFC actually investing time and money into women's 115
was kind of atypical for the company in this era
because it required foresight, patience,
and doing something that would actually generally
be good for the sport.
(dramatic electronic music)
And I would be remiss to forget Conor McGregor,
who, with Nate Diaz, broke the UFC's all-time
pay-per-view record at 1.65 million buys at UFC 202.
Tons of people utterly despise Conor
because he wears three piece suits
when he goes to Chipotle and says insane braggadocious stuff
that he often backs up.
- [Interviewer] A lot of people says he's
the best pound-for-pound fighter
in the world. - He's not.
He's not.
- [Interviewer] How do you rank the fighters?
- I'm number one, two, three, four, five, six,
seven, eight, nine.
(soft music)
- [Narrator] But I think Conor,
like Jon Jones' drug testing,
is an interesting case study in the UFC's war
with its own brand identity.
While the UFC spent the next four years cracking down
on fighters having any distinct appearance and identity,
Conor, like Ronda Rousey, was allowed to be
who he wanted to be.
Which was a flashy, loud-mouth Irish bog man.
- I'm a lion in there.
- Short little people. - And I'm gonna eat you alive.
Your little gazelle friends are gonna be staring
through the cage looking at your carcass
getting eaten alive.
And they can do nothing. - Got it all figured out.
Huh, little fucker? - All they gonna do is say.
- No trained fighters at all. - We're never gonna cross
this river again.
(laughter) (cheers)
- [Narrator] Why? Because Dana White liked him.
Same reason as Ronda.
Within a few fights, Conor was dining with the Fertittas,
going on joy rides with Dana,
and dressing, acting, and taking sponsorship deals
however he saw fit.
Conor has made hundreds of millions of dollars
for the UFC and its owners.
But really, anyone they allowed to have a distinct identity
and fan base could make them way more money
than they are now.
Currently, only Conor is allowed to be bigger
than the UFC brand.
(piano music)
We're in a scary new time for the UFC.
A handful of top fighters have left to Bellator,
a decidedly B league promotion,
because they allow fighters to have sponsors
that actually pay them.
Conor McGregor left to cash the paycheck of a lifetime
in boxing and didn't fight in the UFC at all in 2017.
That year, pay-per-view buys dropped by about 50 percent.
In July of 2016, the UFC was sold to Hollywood talent agency
WME and three private equity firms.
One led by Michael Dell of Dell computers,
as well as Kohlberg, Kravis and Roberts,
a group of corporate raiders who have been stripping assets
and cashing out for decades.
The UFC's misbegotten desire for prestige
and the machinations of the sport move independent
of any stakeholder.
The evolution of technique itself is often uncaring
to capital as we enter the fourth era of fighting itself.
Fighters in this sanitized, oversaturated era
are pretty much good at everything.
So good that they have trouble finishing each other.
The fourth era of fighting is about conditioning,
athleticism, and peaking the body's performance
so you can be a couple microseconds faster
than your opponent in order to knock them out,
take a limb, but almost as likely, rack up
microsecond victories over the course of 15 to 25 minutes.
It's very appropriate.
(dramatic music)
In the old days of fighting,
fighting transcended the world around it.
In the first age of globalization,
it was Hélio and Kimura fighting nationalistic battles
that ended in mutual respect
as opposed to the faulty world orders
and generations of resentment left by the nationalistic
wars at the time.
In the 1990s, it was a respite from the more
contemporary pains of globalization.
Something real amid an increasingly sanitized, standardized,
and unrewarding world.
When it became big in Japan,
it was the bombast and largeness of life
that the lost decade sapped from everybody.
And when every institution failed Americans,
and left millions feeling dislocated,
it gave people the honesty of a fist fight
and a cultural haven for strange people.
But our era now is defined by a lack of conclusion.
Our generals won't even tell us how many people
we have in Afghanistan and Iraq.
We're funding and arming the original groups
we said we were gonna fight when we set out on our
foreign adventures this time.
Nations we democratize by killing a sizable chunk
of their population and profiting off their infrastructure
never get an ending, happy or sad.
They fight civil wars of varying intensity
from year to year.
The defining traumas of our era had no conclusion.
None of the scumbag bankers went to jail
for destroying the economy in 2008.
All the weak rules put in place after, are all but erased.
We elected a president we thought was transformative,
and the person that followed him was a goblin
whose image invokes the robber barons
of a hundred years ago.
There are no closed cycles, conclusions,
or even abrupt endings now.
We're all condemned to each other in purgatory.
The rest of the world around us is breaking free of its norms,
only to see them revert to them, just with margins
behaving irregularly.
Donald Trump wins the Presidential Election,
and for all his paleo conservative bluster
and destruction of norms, governs policy-wise
almost identically to any other Republican.
But the edges of our reality fray so much
that it drives us even more insane.
There was an equivalent event in fighting,
the Mayweather McGregor fight that saw the previously
unthinkable matchup of an active UFC champion
and a boxing legend not too far removed
from his years at the top.
It was a massive event that defied all
our previous expectations of what was possible.
Then reverted to exactly what we always
thought would happen.
The boxer won a boxing match,
and the rest of the world was largely the same.
Sometimes, the dam of normalcy breaks,
and we get momentary bursts of how things once were.
And when it does, the UFC doesn't seem sure
of which side it wants to be on.
At UFC 229, Conor returned after nearly two years
away from the sport.
Months prior, he'd escalated a long simmering feud
with lightweight Khabib Nurmagomedov
when he showed up in Brooklyn
and attacked a bus carrying the undefeated Russian.
The UFC was all too happy to roll video of the incident
into their promotional packages,
including the pre-fight press conference.
(laughter)
- Proper Irish whiskey from a proper Irish!
Here's a gargle for you, Dana,
and a plop as well.
- I'm not a-- - Plop as well for me.
Enjoy.
- [Narrator] Dana also seemed unbothered
when a whiskey hawking McGregor continued to hurl insults
at the stoic Nurmagomedov.
- His own countrymen, his own people
that he's turned his back on,
they want to see him gone too.
And I am gonna do it in the name of the Russian people.
So, here's my location, you little fool.
Right in front of you.
Do something about it!
Do something about it!
Yeah, you'll do nothing.
(dramatic piano music)
- [Narrator] It wasn't much of a shock
to see Conor submit to the greatest functional wrestler
in MMA a few minutes into the fourth round.
Similarly, it could have been predicted
that Conor's words and actions just might bear fruit
in the form of further violence outside the octagon,
when Khabib, spurred on by further taunting
from Conor's corner,
leapt out of the cage and instigated a brawl.
This was the most-watched UFC event of all time,
shattering Conor's old record from 202.
Countless people curious to see what the spectacle
of MMA was all about, had tuned in just in time
to see all their preconceived notions
of the sport validated.
And now all of a sudden,
Dana was troubled by the extracurricular violence.
- Many of you,
I know there's a lot of media here tonight.
Some of you, this is your first event,
I can promise you this is not what a mixed martial arts
event is normally like.
This is not what we're about.
This isn't what we do.
This isn't how we act.
It's unfortunate that the night
that the most people are watching.
- [Narrator] The UFC wants both freakish spectacle
and mainstream respect.
It wants both the depravity of a blood sport
and the decorum of every sport it wishes it was like.
What was once a weird refuge for those who needed it
is now eroding into just another thing that's as formless
and indistinct as everything else.
Fighting has rid itself of so much of its magic.
It does not transcend the world anymore.
It is our world.
If you've somehow made it to the end of this
and you're not an MMA fan,
I hope you take one thing away from all this.
This will happen to everything that you love.
Nothing you like will remain untouched,
and it will get further and further monetized
into meaninglessness.
This isn't just our problem in our idiotic blood sport.
You're fucked too.
(dramatic music)
When Donald "Cowboy" Cerrone fought Nate Diaz at UFC 141,
he rolled into the center of the cage
with all the animosity
of their pre-fight build-up behind them,
squared up and prepared to unload on Diaz.
But Diaz hit him,
at first with punches that, if not overly powerful,
came in volume.
He did it again, and again, and again.
Every time it seemed Cerrone could land a blow
that may change the course of the fight,
Diaz kept hitting him.
He started shoving him around
and hitting him harder and harder.
(dramatic music)
Even when Cerrone landed a head kick
that floored the Californian,
Diaz just got back up and kept hitting him.
It went on like this.
(dramatic music)
In the corner before the third and final round,
Cerrone's cerebral coach Greg Jackson
dropped his zen routine and yelled at the fighter,
"Five minutes for the rest of your life, Cowboy."
- [Greg] You give me five minutes of hell.
You understand me, son!
You give me five minutes of hell!
(dramatic music)
- [Narrator] He went out, got hit for five more minutes,
and he lost.
(dramatic music)
For the rest of your life,
go out, touch gloves, and fight.
(dramatic music)
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