TMC
10-12-2018, 07:19 PM
https://www.theringer.com/2018/10/11/17961836/ufc-wwe-mcgregor-khabib-lesnar-jones
The brawl that broke out after Khabib Nurmagomedov’s victory over Conor McGregor at UFC 229 on Saturday night has now officially become, as UFC president Dana White might say, “part of the story.” Whenever the UFC decides to schedule the McGregor–Khabib Nurmagomedov rematch, you can count on seeing Saturday night’s melee in the promotional videos to help sell it, just as the footage of McGregor trying to throw a dolly through a bus window back in April became the promo grist for all the hype leading up to the first fight.
It’s all part of the story. And stories such as these — the melees, outbursts, personal attacks on religion and family, geopolitical discourse, charges of criminal mischief, and record-breaking pay-per-view buys — are the ones only the fight game can tell. McGregor vs. Nurmagomedov was always a dark pairing, and the UFC did its best to turn that darkness into lore. The UFC is a sports league, sure, but it’s built upon sagas as much as it’s built on standings.
You might say it’s a little like pro wrestling.
That’s why there were a few silent fist pumps in the back when Nurmagomedov scaled the fence and leaped like Jimmy “Superfly” Snuka at one of McGregor’s cornermen, and Nurmagomedov’s guys scaled the wall the other way and sucker-punched McGregor. A million cell phones turned into surveillance cameras all at once. It was a moment of bedlam for the UFC, its very own “Malice at the Palace.” From ringside I could see guru Tony Robbins’s bodyguards, who were ready to throw down if the brawl spilled their way, and Anthony Kiedis, who was yelling into his cell phone for his car to get back to the drop-off point STAT. White said that the governor of Nevada, who had been sitting cageside for the UFC’s biggest fight ever, literally ran out of the arena. (The governor denies this.)
After the hysteria had passed and it was clear nobody was hurt and nobody was going to press charges, you could practically hear UFC officials mumbling “holy shit” under their breath. And not necessarily the bad kind of “holy ****.” The astonished kind of “holy shit” that gamblers with a lot of money on the table might say when they hit 16 against the dealer seven and somehow draw a five. The “holy shit” that comes with narrow escape. The capital Holy **** that takes over your face with a smile. There’s another kind of “holy shit”: the loud chants of a pro wrestling audience after seeing something they’ll never forget.
Back in 2010, Nick and Nate Diaz achieved cult status by brawling on national television in Nashville, right in the center of the cage after their training partner, Jake Shields, fought in a Strikeforce main event. That particular incident left CBS’s Gus Johnson lamenting to his national audience, somewhat comically, “These things happen in MMA.” Unsurprisingly, the Diazes are both icons in the game now.
The truth is, when all hell breaks loose in MMA, big things seem to follow. McGregor’s second fight with Nate Diaz was trending toward being a top five PPV, but it wasn’t until the water bottles started flying during the UFC 202 press conference that it became guaranteed to be the best-selling fight in UFC history. Dana White always shakes his head and worries aloud about how the Nevada Athletic Commission will drop the hammer on the offenders, but he knows a little lawlessness goes a long way. (He also knows that the NAC isn’t going to punish itself by banishing people who make money for the state.)
So forget his post-fight “disappointment” — that’s part of the process. White is going to use the post-match melee to sell the next fight. If the UFC has learned anything over the years it’s that, just like in pro wrestling, the drama of bad blood developing in real time is worth millions. This is the new storyline for UFC. The die-hards will always tune in for the fights, but the public at large needs its curiosity piqued. It helps when the fighters ****ing hate each other and the fans are invited to be as emotional as the principals themselves.
The brawl that broke out after Khabib Nurmagomedov’s victory over Conor McGregor at UFC 229 on Saturday night has now officially become, as UFC president Dana White might say, “part of the story.” Whenever the UFC decides to schedule the McGregor–Khabib Nurmagomedov rematch, you can count on seeing Saturday night’s melee in the promotional videos to help sell it, just as the footage of McGregor trying to throw a dolly through a bus window back in April became the promo grist for all the hype leading up to the first fight.
It’s all part of the story. And stories such as these — the melees, outbursts, personal attacks on religion and family, geopolitical discourse, charges of criminal mischief, and record-breaking pay-per-view buys — are the ones only the fight game can tell. McGregor vs. Nurmagomedov was always a dark pairing, and the UFC did its best to turn that darkness into lore. The UFC is a sports league, sure, but it’s built upon sagas as much as it’s built on standings.
You might say it’s a little like pro wrestling.
That’s why there were a few silent fist pumps in the back when Nurmagomedov scaled the fence and leaped like Jimmy “Superfly” Snuka at one of McGregor’s cornermen, and Nurmagomedov’s guys scaled the wall the other way and sucker-punched McGregor. A million cell phones turned into surveillance cameras all at once. It was a moment of bedlam for the UFC, its very own “Malice at the Palace.” From ringside I could see guru Tony Robbins’s bodyguards, who were ready to throw down if the brawl spilled their way, and Anthony Kiedis, who was yelling into his cell phone for his car to get back to the drop-off point STAT. White said that the governor of Nevada, who had been sitting cageside for the UFC’s biggest fight ever, literally ran out of the arena. (The governor denies this.)
After the hysteria had passed and it was clear nobody was hurt and nobody was going to press charges, you could practically hear UFC officials mumbling “holy shit” under their breath. And not necessarily the bad kind of “holy ****.” The astonished kind of “holy shit” that gamblers with a lot of money on the table might say when they hit 16 against the dealer seven and somehow draw a five. The “holy shit” that comes with narrow escape. The capital Holy **** that takes over your face with a smile. There’s another kind of “holy shit”: the loud chants of a pro wrestling audience after seeing something they’ll never forget.
Back in 2010, Nick and Nate Diaz achieved cult status by brawling on national television in Nashville, right in the center of the cage after their training partner, Jake Shields, fought in a Strikeforce main event. That particular incident left CBS’s Gus Johnson lamenting to his national audience, somewhat comically, “These things happen in MMA.” Unsurprisingly, the Diazes are both icons in the game now.
The truth is, when all hell breaks loose in MMA, big things seem to follow. McGregor’s second fight with Nate Diaz was trending toward being a top five PPV, but it wasn’t until the water bottles started flying during the UFC 202 press conference that it became guaranteed to be the best-selling fight in UFC history. Dana White always shakes his head and worries aloud about how the Nevada Athletic Commission will drop the hammer on the offenders, but he knows a little lawlessness goes a long way. (He also knows that the NAC isn’t going to punish itself by banishing people who make money for the state.)
So forget his post-fight “disappointment” — that’s part of the process. White is going to use the post-match melee to sell the next fight. If the UFC has learned anything over the years it’s that, just like in pro wrestling, the drama of bad blood developing in real time is worth millions. This is the new storyline for UFC. The die-hards will always tune in for the fights, but the public at large needs its curiosity piqued. It helps when the fighters ****ing hate each other and the fans are invited to be as emotional as the principals themselves.