Fight Is Fight
In the early 1990’s, when no-holds-barred fighting was beginning to take hold in America, a lot of the Americans including myself who were covering this sport were introduced to a generation of fearless fighters from Brazil, mostly trained in the Gracie style of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. This new sport was rapidly breaking down international barriers, as well as misconceptions about what fighting was and was not, but one barrier that took a while to break down was language. While few Americans understood Portuguese, these Brazilians were learning or improving their English, although sometimes imperfectly.
One of the favorite sayings of many of the Brazilian fighters of that day was, “Fight is fight.” What this meant, besides a matter-of-fact attitude to whatever fight happened to be next, was that in whichever style they might be competing, it would still be a fight. Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, of course, was just grappling in a gi. NHB, as we affectionately called it then, had very few rules, and allowed punching, kicking, submissions, wrestling, etc.
The fact remains that all these styles of combat sports are in essence forms of fighting. Whether emphasizing grappling or striking, or some combination of both, they are still a fight.
Today I leave for St. Louis to cover the 2008 NCAA Division I Wrestling Championship, which runs Thursday, March 20, through Saturday, March 22. These days, not many people recognize a sport like college wrestling as a form of fighting. Still, it is not some type of analogy for fighting, as team or ball sports can be, but it is actually using some of the key techniques of real fighting. Just think about how many street fights go to the ground when one fighter takes the other one down, and you will understand that all these techniques are, and must be, used in unarmed combat.
All these combat sports have their own rules, restrictions, traditions, techniques, histories, and cultures. They remain, however, forms of fighting, using specified fighting techniques.
Most of the people around NHB in the early days were big boxing fans. Many people in the wrestling world have been, too. Boxing’s documented problems have driven many of them away like so many others. But at heart, they still like the fights.
Yet the cultural and political disconnect between the combat sports has hit boxing and wrestling, two sports with exceptionally parochial cultures, particularly hard. There is only minor crossover, for example, between the media of these two sports. As far as I know, I remain the only member of both the Boxing Writers Association of America and the National Wrestling Media Association, and have had this unusual distinction for years.
The style vs. style angle of the early NHB fights respected all styles, including boxing and wrestling. Virtually all of these fighters regularly trained in boxing, kickboxing, wrestling, and jiu-jitsu. That is one reason for the mass appeal of modern mixed martial arts. That these sports, which utilize specific fighting techniques and at far higher levels than when they are used in some combination like mixed martial arts, have had trouble capitalizing upon the recent popularity of MMA, only reflects their basic shortcomings in marketing, promotion, and use of the media, especially the Internet.
These problems also result from their attitudes that their style is somehow the only legitimate form of combat sports. That makes it uncomfortable for the fans and aficionados of one of these sports to drop in on the others.
Can you be a purist in more than one or even all of these sports at once? Perhaps, if by “purist” you mean someone who cherishes and defends the highest level of integrity and technique in that sport, and not one who looks down upon or denigrates anything outside one little box.
So check out the NCAA wrestling, boxing people. The finals are live on ESPN Saturday night, March 22, with extended coverage of the earlier rounds on ESPNU Friday and Saturday. And when you do so, keep in mind that fight is fight.
Labels: boxing, combat sports, Eddie Goldman, fights, jiu-jitsu, kickboxing, mixed martial arts, MMA, NHB, No Holds Barred, wrestling
posted by Eddie Goldman @ 4:03 PM
16 comments
16 Comments:
Eddie, I love this post. When all is said and done, boxing & wrestling are the two purest forms of striking and grappling. As a former fighter and half assed high school wrestler, I have the utmost respect for wrestlers.
At the highest level, wrestlers are in most cases as tough as boxers. To win a gold medal at the Olympics in boxing, is no harder or easier than it is for a wrestler. Both face fierce competition from the bottom up. I've often thought about the difference in dollars and cents potential between a gold medal wrestler and a boxer can make after the games. Until the emergence of MMA, the wrestler only had the WWE. Even at that, in order to be a star in the entertainment form of wrestling, he has to be 250 plus. The wrestler who's the same size as Sugar Ray Leonard or Roy Jones doesn't really have a future. In MMA fights, neither a wrestler or a boxer can go to far with their only skill set.
Some of the toughest and strongest guys I know are former High School & College wrestlers. And you know what, they can't bust a grape punching in most cases, and sometimes don't have the greatest beards either. That said, don't let that same guy get close to you or get you in his grasp. The difference in strength between a boxer & wrestler are so different. A boxer could get in the ring with a wrestler his equal in size and skill, and come out thinking the wrestler was the weakest guy in the world. That is until the boxer goes on the mat with the wrestler, and the wrestlers does what ever he wants with him. This I know for a fact.
One of my best friends is a former group II National Champ, and weighs the same as me. I could stand in front of him and let him hit me as hard as he can, and he can hurt me. And if I touch him with a firm jab, I've seen him get wobbly legged. Yet when he gets me in his grasp, I can't get away or get up until he lets me.
No doubt in my mind that every guy Eddie sees this weekend is a bad-ass. The only problem is, once the match goes to the ground, it's only exciting to wrestling purist.
The biggest difference I see in boxing and wrestling is, I'd be more humiliated getting knocked out than I would pinned. I also think because of the nature of the sport, a guy may have to want to want it more to make it to the top in boxing, because the journey hurts more.
However, I'd take a great wrestler over a great boxer if I had to blend the two combat forms for an MMA fight. Here's why. I could teach a wrestler to be a second or third tier-striker faster than I could teach a boxer to be a second or third-tier grappler. In MMA, a second tier striker/puncher can finish the fight easier, and it's not like he'll have to knockout a real boxer/fighter. On the other hand, a boxer who's even a second tier grappler, is way overmatched when he's on the ground with a real ground fighter, who has much more than just a wrestling background.
I meant to say, my buddy the wrestler can't hurt me with a punch, whether it's his left or right hand.
Obviously the high end MMA guys are very good at what they do. But part of the problem for me is that Showtime (which is the only place where MMA is readily available to me, if I were interested in it) shows fights that are obviously worked. They've also made a couple of clear-cut frauds (Kimbo Slice and Chuck Liddell both leap to mind) the focus of a lot of their promotion. If the intention is to get a testosterone-obsessed bunch of white boys with sexual identity issues watching for a year or two, they're on the right path. If Showtime is interested in a long-term investment in the sport, they better rethink their methods of selling it.
Although I understand the idea of "fight is fight," that doesn't automatically draw me to just any fight. You could make a case for chess being a valid extension of fighting. The sports aren't readily fungible. I love boxing because it's boxing. Other sports, including combat sports, bore me (which doesn't mean that I don't respect their leading practitioners.)
I love combat sports. There are many forms of mental & physical fighting. I too respect all combatants, but am not overwhelmed watching MMA bouts. I'd rather watch Jeff Gordon & Dale Earnhardt Jr. battle for position, or watch Obama fight for the right words to defend himself listening to Rev Wright, for 20 consecutive years. In fact this also applies to boxing when I'm watching fights like Klitschko-Ibragimov. Yet when I see Vazquez-Marquez, it reminds me why I love boxing, along with re-enforcing my belief that it's the best Sport in the World.
This is a great post Mr. Goldman, with some excellent observations. I’d like to add a few notes, including one distinct factor in the disconnect between professional boxing and wrestling – professional wrestling (as I understand the WWF) is staged. Am I wrong? In boxing we call this a fix, but wrestling audiences don’t care, and seem to prefer matches to be equal theater and athletics. It’s a different kind of drama, with its own set of values. For instance in boxing we like the big KO winner, but while the wrestling winner is also celebrated, the act of “loosing well” is honored much more than in boxing. As you pointed out, combat sports come in many flavors. It’s a matter of preference.
I have to say I don’t care for MMA, NHB, cage matches, etc. I agree with Fight is Fight, that the combat is compelling, but there’s an ugliness that does not appeal to me. Popular sports reflect their times, and MMA and NHB are part of the in-your-face, instant gratification and video game mentality in much of our popular culture.
Thanks for pointing out amateur, college and Olympic wrestling. It’s plenty exciting, and there’s no doubt as to the incredible physical demands of the sport. My father, who boxed in college in the 1950s, insisted that a wrestler will usually defeat an equally matched boxer. I scoffed at first, until in repeated demonstrations he showed me that once gripped, a boxer looses the advantage.
As a tie in to this discussion, here’s a video link (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1uzm1cfqInc). I don’t know if this match was legit or not, but it’s still fascinating to watch these two great warriors together: Andre The Giant -vs- Chuck Wepner 1976.
Carl, the Andre-Wepner match was entirely predetermined.
I have to agree about the "ugliness" that surrounds much of the MMA stuff. I find it off-putting too.
Carl, I hate the thought that a wrestler would beat a boxer or vice-versa. It depends on the individual. IF the boxer is a legitimate puncher, and senses a fight is about to break out, goodnight wrestler. However, IF the wrestler just walks up and grabs a boxer, than he's finished. However, street fights aren't wrestling or boxing, or kicking or groundfighting. My knuckle game is pretty good, but IF I'm in a situation where I sense trouble, I'm looking for a weapon to insure victory. You can flip a coin between boxer vs. wrestler as to who wins. I just know in a street scenario, versus more than one attacker, I feel better having a skill set that's rooted in boxing, than I would wrestling. Versus more than one attacker, a boxer would fare better than a wrestler. That said, I have the utmost respect for both practioners.
Frank,
Well put, as always. That line "My knuckle game is pretty good" goes right into my collection of favorite sentences.
For me, though, the whole question of "who would win between ..." (Could Superman beat up Batman?) is, while interesting and worthy of long, intelligent, even passionate discussion, entirely seperate from the question of which sport or discipline appeals to me and which doesn't. I recognize and respect excellence in any endevour, and yes there's a link between the combat sports, but I still find boxing uniquely appealing. Wrestling -- real, amateur wrestling -- seems like a completely different world (and a great one), while MMA, etc., strike me as more or less unnecessary hybreds, like Arena Football or, say, a version of baseball that allowed players to run to either first OR third, or in which the infielders could tackle the baserunner.
Just my hidebound perspective, I guess.
"..a version of baseball that allowed players to run to either first OR third, or in which the infielders could tackle the baserunner."
Rich, I suggest getting licensing rights to this. Infielders tackling baserunners sounds like a can't-miss proposition in today's sporting climate.
Great comments and info. I agree re any good boxer-wrestler match up will of course come down to the individuals. When I imagine boxer, I think shock and awe. When I imagine wrestler, I think python.
Less enjoyable is my memory of being attacked by three intoxicated teenagers during my senior year in college. Our general mixed combat discussion got me thinking about this bit of unfinished past business. I ran into these guys in a restaurant parking lot one night as I was going to meet a girlfriend. I had been in bed with the flu for a week, so I was tired, anxious to get outside, not paying attention, and in no mood to be intimidated. (Athletes are second only to politicians in making excuses . . .). Anyway, unfriendly hand gestures were exchanged. One of the men confronted me as I was leaving my car and shoved me. At that point I did what many people, including amateur boxers do when the moment of confrontation arrives. I froze. You can’t imagine, over the years, how many times I have dreamed of my right fist crashing into this guys wide open face. But it was not to be, and quickly his two friends closed in.
However, my boxing training did pay off. I did the best god damn rope-a-dope west of Zaire. And despite six incoming hands and fists, all they got were my arms and elbows. At that point I woke up to what was happening. Reaching out, I grabbed the first guy and spun him around in a headlock. Nice move, but I slipped on the ice with him on top of me. After a few moments of him screaming to get free, his buddies began kicking me in the head and face. It was over at that point. Not much one can do in that situation but try and live through it. Luckily, someone had already called the police. We all went to the station and gave statements. No charges were ever filed, and the police never contacted me again.
I’m sure those on this forum would have made different, if better choices had they been in my place. As Floyd Patterson once said, he learned everything about himself in defeat and nothing in victory. The point is my belief that no matter what one’s discipline, or how well trained or prepared, the rapid compression of time in life threatening (as well as sporting) confrontations can be overwhelming. Our choices decrease with each split second, variables appear infinite, and survival often comes down to our strength of character. In other words, speculation is fun, but S**t Happens.
As far as the above NHB – “The boxer was outmatched, but fought defensively, then briefly turned wrestler, only to loose the advantage, and was TKO’d by the soccer hooligans. Jim!!”
Ironically, Floyd Patterson did learn something about himself in victory, but it was the same kind of lesson he generally got from defeat. He told me about watching kinescope replays of some of his earlier fights a day or two after they took place. He was astonished by both the velocity and volume of his punches. Typically, rather than giving himself credit for being able to throw so many fast punches, he attributed the output to the terror he was feeling while throwing them. Floyd fought as if in the midst of a nightmare. In a sense, being knocked out twice in the first round by Sonny Liston might have seemed like a relief.
It's interesting to me that most good professional fighters never get into street fights and never think in terms of how they'd fare. The best fighter I ever managed was Freddie Norwood, who, when in shape and serious, was unbeatable. I had him living in Brockton, Massachusetts while training at the Petronelli's gym. After his daily workouts, this killer would say to me, "Charles, walk me home. This is a bad neighborhood." In a dangerous world of gangs and guns, Freddie had a great existential understanding of how well a 122 pound man would do with his fists if he got into trouble on the street. (It's still a mystery as to why he thought I'd have been of any help.)
Charles,
The more I hear of your interaction with Patterson, the more fascinated I become. That sense of terror seems so at odds with being able to be effective in the ring. It also seems at a remove from the Patterson I saw outside of the ring. Was he able to compartmentalize it? How did he ever get through training?
Of course, you did have at least one fighter known for the occasional extracurricular scuffle. Did Mitch Green ever address the subject? i remember reading a story once about Billy Conn (another fighter not averse to action outside the ring -- at least with in-laws) in which, when asked about what it was like to take on non-professionals, he was quoted as saying, "Aw, it's like hitting a girl."
The account by Carl Weingarten (the same Carl, you should know, whose youtube site -- and percussive right -- I wrote about in my fight films post) of his harrowing encounter in college, puts me in mind again of Carlo's earlier essay on the street fight/youtube world. it's all ugly, brutish and (save for the person on the receiving end) short -- a world removed from what we are usually discussing here. Yet the worlds keep bumping up against each other. Is it just as Eddie says, "fight is fight?"
Rich, I think that Floyd enjoyed being famous and well thought of, so boxing was in many ways very good for him. He loved training (even when I knew him) and regarded sparring as a collegial activity. I don't think his terror ever came from a fear of fighting. It was more an issue of a fundamentally modest man not wanting to be embarrassed in public. Floyd was a great fighter in spite of himself. The training part was easy for him, but he was also almost supernaturally gifted. When I knew him at age sixty or so, he could still punch a lot harder than the heavyweights I had him training. His hands were faster too. But he was never taught very much; what he did at the end of his career was almost identical to what he did as a fledgling pro or even as an Olympian. And he was, frankly, a lousy trainer.
Mitch Green talked a great length about the Mike Tyson street encounter. At one point, I had in my possession the actual depositions from both guys (I probably still have them lying around somewhere.) Their stories are actually pretty similar. What's interesting is that, in his account, Tyson talks about how big Green was and how afraid he was when confronted by him. He talks about hitting Mitch first as a preemptive measure. It's hard to know whether he's being truthful, since it was in his best interest to come up with a reason for striking the first blow. One thing that I don't think was well publicized was the fact that the sucker punch that Tyson threw was made more effective by a large, heavy ring that he was wearing. That's what actually ripped Mitch's head open.
I have always pointed to the Tyson-Mitch Green encounter as the perfect example of why movie brawls are so unrealistic. In the movies, you always have guys bouncing punches off each other's heads for minutes at a time with no no damage to fists or faces. Here in real life, you had two big, trained professional heavyweights and one punch left one guy with his hand in a cast and the other with his eye swollen shut. I didn't know about the ring, but still it is dramatic testimony to the actual damage that a fist against flesh can produce.
I’ve been reflecting on Charles and Richards’s comments about Floyd Patterson, and the terror Floyd expressed in competition, as well as the satisfaction he felt in his fame, and his enjoyment of training. While the above may seem conflicting, they are all consistent with an introverted personality, which Floyd apparently had. Charles, you knew Floyd, but from everything I have read, he was very withdrawn as a child and soft spoken through his entire life. By nature, introverted people (myself included) avoid conflict at a cost to themselves, and find confrontation to be an emotionally painful experience.
Introverts also display an intense need for recognition by their peers, and display great humiliation when they are rejected – think of Floyd’s behavior after his loss to Liston. Extroverts, on the other hand, relish taking up all the air in a room. They crave companionship or an audience, often not caring what other people think.
This is the boxer who marches into the press conference after loosing a fight, only to resume the conflict in words.
On the other hand, the act of boxing training is a very empowering experience, and going to what Charles also spoke of, it makes perfect sense that Floyd would have been at home in the gym. The activity develops physical and emotional strength, focus, and the rules of the sport allow individuals to prepare and enter into a controlled conflict where they can not only be independent, take risks and gain recognition, but count on the support of family, trainers, corner crew, ref and their peer boxers.
I’d like to believe that Floyd that he did come to terms with his emotional life. His 1972 victory, against Oscar Bonavena, was a real triumph. Oscar wasn’t Liston, but the late career win over the strong and durable slugger must have been satisfying for Floyd.
Carl, I'd say that Floyd was shy, but not pathologically so--maybe more modest than shy. My impression was that he was emotionally secure and fundamentally happy. As you surmise, he was decidedly soft-spoken and certainly not given to confrontation. That's not to say that he wouldn't take a position and maintain it. Although we almost always got along quite well (Floyd would have been a hard man with whom to not get along), we had one very serious argument about my handling of a fighter. Two interesting things emerged from that argument. The first was my great surprise that Floyd, when angry enough, would use four letter words; I'd used the word "motherfucker" during our disagreement, and Floyd "motherfucker'd" me right back in a very loud voice. More importantly, I was struck by how safe it was to argue--even to argue vehemently--with Floyd Patterson. Never for a moment did I worry that his being a great boxer who could separate my head from my shoulders would spill over in a way that could be read as intimidation. He was someone who had no violence in him.
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