Understanding the Narrative: Kamar Usman Vs Colby Covington

Few fights come around that really embody the socio-political atmosphere of the time. Joe Louis vs Max Schmeling and Larry Holmes vs James Cooney come to mind. The fights carried the geopolitical and racial tensions of the nation respectively. Another example is when Jack Johnson won his Heavyweight title in Australia. That night he fought for more than just his pride. In the eyes of African-Americans at the time he was fighting for their validation. The upcoming title fight between Kamal Usman and Colby Covington seems to fall in the same category as those classic heavyweight scraps. The difference being that the boxers who fought in those matches did not put themselves in the positions they found themselves in. The "Black vs White" or "America vs Nazi Germany" narrative were thrusted upon them. In the case of Usman vs Covington however, the two fighters are more than happy to proclaim themselves as champions of their sects. Knights going into battle for the honor and pride of their respective houses. Usman, representing the immigrant struggle and Covington the MAGA American resentful resentful of losing his country.

This is not a commentary on the validity of Convington's character, nor is it a criticism of conservatism in America. Instead, I hope to bring a historical context to a fight that represents much more than just two men looking for fight immortality. The UFC will sell the fight, Dana will promote it, and the fans will tune in. But the fight will also be a reflection of today's socio-political environment; much like the boxing matches mentioned above. At no point will the UFC forthright state, "this represents a fight between immigrant Americans and white nativists!", but it will be an underlying narrative that has come around before. By no means does that mean that Covington himself is a white nativist, but it does mean that white nativists will be cheering for Covington. And fuck it, they should. 

Race and ethnicity have always been part of the appeal of combat sports. It is of no surprise that my favorite boxers were Mexicans, and white folk have every right to support their guy. Just like black America put so much of its identity and pride in the bravado of Jack Johnson, the bravery of Muhammad Ali, and the perfection of Floyd Mayweather- so should angry white dudes back Colby.

The beauty of MMA lies in the multifaceted perspectives in which fans can appreciate a fighter. I often find myself cheering against Mexican or American fighters when they face Jiu Jitsu practitioners. I can cheer for Usman as an immigrant, I can cheer for Ronda as an outsider, I can cheer for BJ Penn as a Jiu Jitsu fighter, and Matt Hughes as a wrestler. Personality goes a long way as well. I love Clay Guida for being a Lebowski fan, I love the Diaz brothers for being stoners, and I love Jon Fitch for his blue-collar work ethic. Though this also applied to the days of boxing, MMA gives fans a lot more reasons to support fighters.

However, in this specific fight the dominant narrative will be that of MAGA vs liberalism, and I think that's okay. No matter what side one chooses, it is undeniable that the narrative is intriguing. At a time when the nation is so divided among cultural and political lines, it will be refreshing to see those angst play out within the confines of the Octagon. Better there than on the streets of Charlottesville.

The Digital Renaissance: How ADCC 2019 Marks the Start of Media Independence

On September 29th, 2019, the Abu Dhabi Combat Club put on the most watched, hyped, and successful event in the organization’s history. This was thanks to the countless hours of dedication put in by the staff, athletes, and even the fans. Afterall, it was grappling fans that created the demand for such a well-run and visually appealing product. Grappling finally saw the most prestigious prize in submission grappling have its due respect. The public asked for unparalleled access to the athletes competing-and Flograppling delivered. The public demanded a spectacle worthy of the crown it represented- Seth Daniels and the F2W crew delivered. The public expected drama, action, and dope shit from the best grapplers in the world-and the competitors delivered. The event showcased the best grappling had to offer to an audience long ignored by mainstream media outlets. An event like ADCC would be laughed out of the offices of NBC or CBS. Under the old media guard, there was zero chance of watching live grappling without being there. But that was then, and this is now. Today, we are living in the age of a digital renaissance; it started on September 29th, 2019.

ADCC 2019 is a bigger moment than what was witnessed that night in Anaheim. The event itself was the perfect combination of fantastic production and well executed buildup. The tiny little jiu jitsu community that spreads across continents and languages was brought together for one weekend. Though dedicated and growing, the global bjj community was not worth the effort of major sports coverage, nor is the community large enough for major media outlets to air it. Simply put, Fox, NBC, and ESPN weren’t buying what ADCC was selling.

In the 20th century, the inability to get on a major channel meant limited growth and exposure, but the 21st century says fuck that noise. ADCC’s success represents the freedom the internet can afford creative people. It is a moment in time so perfectly placed that it seems imagined. By every account, the event was a staggering success. Promoters, staff, athletes, and fans all shared a common elation with how well the event went. A hungry audience got what it wanted without going through a cable provider or even a network approval board. This is the beauty of the modern renaissance- the old way of doing things is gone. Dead are the days of needing approval from a bunch of network executives to put out content. Creative artists are free to take control of their own content. They can choose to partner with like minded thinkers to produce quality content for an audience desperate to be served.

In the 1950’s the music industry abided by the payola standard of distribution. Record labels would bribe DJs and stations to play their songs more often and give positive reviews. The radio stations held such a tight grip on what went out on their airways that the artists had no choice but to comply. Fortunately, the internet has shifted the power balance. Now the artist has many available avenues to present his or her content to an ever-growing audience. Technology has uprooted a path to exposure that was deeply established in mainstream society. 

In the coming years technology will continue to disrupt long established institutions and redefine the way in which consumers get their content. To try and predict how that will go exactly is asinine, but the trick is not to know what’s coming- it’s how to move with change as it arises. This is where jiu jitsu is the key to the future. It teaches us to adapt to change, to move with it, and to capitalize on it. 

The digital renaissance is only getting started, ADCC gave us a glimpse of where future online media can go. Those with a vision can now let their passions manifest without restriction or influence from the major media establishment. That is not to say that ADCC 2019 is perfect and went on without issues, but the gorgeous reality of living through a renaissance is that nothing is dogmatic- anything can change on a whim. The crew at ADCC and Flo do not need to be perfect today, because they have shown that they will only continue to get better. They do not live in the world of network television where conventional wisdom says “don’t rock the boat”. Instead those at Flo and ADCC live in the real world- a world where change is the only constant, where adaptation is inevitable, and traditional authority has less and less power. 

The artists of the 21st century will find meaning in knowing their creation can be as true to their visions as they choose. There is unprecedented access to consumers today, and creative people need only reach out and present their projects. As automation slowly replaces workers, those without jobs may find refuge in knowing they can build a following and create content for those willing to consume it. And as ADCC 2019 showcased, with enough hard work and dedication, artists of the future can create monumental moments for eager audiences around the world.

The Great Guard Hope: Can Tony Ferguson deal with Khabib's pressure game?

155 is completely fucked. There are three guys walking around with championship belts, and a backlog of contenders crowding at the gates waiting for their shot at the title. Meanwhile the division's biggest star is undecided about returning, and won't do it unless everything is right for him. It is therefore unclear what match-ups will and won't happen. But if the MMA gods are fair, I hope they grant us Ferguson vs Khabib.

This fight has been promised before, and each time a freak accident derailed what was sure to be a classic. Sure, the fight would be a fun one to watch. It has all the right ingredients: neither guy gets tired, both are well rounded, both rely on attacks and steadily breaking opponents. All that adds up to a "Fight of the Night" bonus for both guys, and maybe even be a "Fight of the Year" candidate. That the fight will likely be fireworks is without question, but the real intrigue about this fight is How will Tony fare off his back? 

The guard in MMA has lost a little luster over the years. Some have argued that its lack of appreciation by the judges that has caused the guard to all but disappear in MMA. I've read articles saying Jiu Jitsu's progression into a specialized sport rather than a martial art based on self-defense is why many decorated Jiu Jitsu fighters struggle in the cage. The Unified Rules of MMA may even bear some of the blame, but the fact remains that fighting from the guard is not a preferred place to be in Mixed Martial Arts.

There are a number of fighters that prove me wrong in this instance, but for the most part MMA fighters don't like the guard. Fighters focus more on avoiding the takedowns in the first place, or getting back up by wall-walking whenever they land on their back. But then there is Khabib Nurmagomedov. There is no avoiding the takedown; there is no wall walking. This strategy has been tried 27 times; it has failed 27 times.

But Tony is different. Tony's relentless offense style is what makes him a fan favorite inside the Octagon. He attacks with kicks, punches, elbows, knees, forearms, and is never afraid to open up. That same style doesn't end when the fight goes to the ground either. Time after time Tony has shown he is more than a wrestler-turned-striker. A fantastic finisher, Ferguson is happy to end the fight by either knockout or submission.

This offensive-heavy style got him in trouble many times in the past, both in striking and grappling. He's been dropped multiple times in fights. Against Kevin Lee he wound up mounted, and against Danny Castillo he found himself defending a side choke at the final bell. Still, Kevin Lee got triangled and Castillo was forced to play defense throughout the majority of the fight. Typical Tony Ferguson- offense at the risk of defeat.

Ferguson's hips allow him to take the risks he takes when on the ground. When fighters find themselves in dominant positions against him, they rarely mount any offense. Kevin Lee had the mount and landed decent shots, but nothing of real consequence while Tony recovered his guard. Josh Thomson, a tremendous grappler, found little success from the top position. Ferguson's offense keeps fighters on the defense, and his ability to recover and immediately mount his attack is taxing for anyone on top. Tony will give up position, but trying to keep position on him has proven to be exhausting and so far, futile. 

The question is, can Tony afford to give position to Khabib? Will he have to be more defensive against such an exceptionally dominant wrestler? Or will Tony utilize this style to wear down the Russian?  I don't know, but whether for a belt or not, I hope one day to gladly tune in to the ESPN app and find out.

What "Fighting!" Means to Koreans

Korean winters are fucking cold. The summers are hot and wet, and walking outside sometimes feels like walking into a warm bath. That's not to say it's a bad place to visit. The spring is beautiful, and the florescence of cherry blossoms paint the country side a gorgeous shade of pink and orange. Dry dead bushes turn from churned twigs and mangled sticks into bright expositions of vivid green. The autumn is awesome too. Leaves cover the ground as they fall, and kids race to stomp and crunch them on their way to school. Walkways are sheltered by yellow, orange, and fiery red trees. Still, the winters are fucking cold.

The harshness of the winter is why Koreans cherish the spring so much; after enduring the frigid temperatures, frozen side walks, and the piercing wind, springtime is a welcomed relief. My experience of these chilly winters was made easier thanks to modern heating, thick blankets, and my knock-off Northface jacket bought for ₩30,000 in Iteawon. 

In ancient times winters meant a struggle for survival. A staple of Korean cuisine is kimchi- a product of these harsh Korean winters. The mountainous landscape made it hard to grow food, and in preparation for the winter ancient Koreans would ferment cabbage and bury it in the ground to keep it from fully freezing over. This became a much valued source of vegetables during the cold season. Over time, spices and flavors were added to turn this dish from a survival tactic to an essential part of almost every Korean meal. 

Kimchi is just one example of the Korean ability to make the best out of a dire situation. It is in the Korean character to endure- to fight. Before embarking on a difficult situation, it is common to hear Koreans shout "FIGHTING!" as a way to bolster their spirits. These situations can be anything from taking a school exam to fighting in cage for Road FC. Once on a rafting trip through river rapids our Korean guide had us yell "Fighting!" every time we came up on a rapid, and then again after passing the white water. 

Many people have used the metaphor of a fight to represent struggles in life. Ronda Rousey's book centered on the idea that her life was a fight, and Chael Sonnen regularly refers to getting out of bed in the morning as a fight. But to Koreans fighting is not just a personal character trait that makes one tough or willing to endure- it is a cultural identity.

Being Korean is tough. To survive both as a sovereign nation and as a distinct cultural group, Koreans have had to fight. From the Mongol Invasions, to the Japanese occupation, to the civil war that split it into north and south, fighting drives Korean history. Not just militarily either.

Immediately following the Korean War, the south was left in an economic abyss. Stubbornly and tirelessly, South Koreans built one of the most influential nations on the globe in terms of technology and culture. The millions of people that watched "Gangnam Style" on Samsung and LG devices are a testament to how hard they've fought. So is the recognition of Tae Kwon Do as an Olympic sport practiced all over the planet.

From having to bury cabbage in the ground for survival to having the whole world doing an invisible horse dance, Koreans have come a long way. The ability to endure is more than a personal virtue to Koreans. Instead, it is a national ethos. 

Chan Sung Jung's aggression, Samsung's rivalry with Apple, my friend Hyung Su's fight with cancer,
and even the fucking cold winters are all examples of how Koreans fight. Fighting is what is expected; fighting is Korean.

The Fight Fan

My grandpa was a fight fan. Before we had cable, he would put on a thin jacket and his dodger blue baseball cap before heading out to the nearest bar that had the Chavez fight. My uncle Hugo would go with him sometimes. When they got back, I'd be on the sofa sleeping, Hugo would wake me up as he set up the other sofa to sleep on. I'd ask him who won, and he'd always reply "Chavez." Every fucking time.

As I got older, Hugo and I shared a bedroom instead of the living room. We even got cable, and eventually a box in every room. Hugo and I would watch Raw and Nitro interchangeably. We even discovered how to  get scribbly PPV's for free. Jim Ross's colorful commentary did more than just fill in the gaps left by the static on the screen, he sucked us into the story and action. My grandpa wouldn't watch though, "It's fake," he'd say and go back to the living room. No one else in the family understood why Hugo and I watched pro-wrestling. They thought AAA was fun since it was more acrobatic, and everyone enjoyed a movie marathon featuring "El Hijo del Santo." Still, American pro wrestling wasn't their thing.

Boxing was another story though. The crowning jewel of 90's piracy, a black box, befell on La Habra California. Now the fights came in clear (WWF pay per-views too). Suddenly, Saturday nights were devoted to Tyson, De La Hoya, Vargas, Roy Jones, and Trinidad (Sundays to Austin, HBK, and The Undertaker).

When there was a Mexican fight, we all watched. As a kid I remember the excitement in the air as we all cleaned up the house to get it ready for guests. My uncles and aunts would come over, and occasionally a few friends from work too. I'd argue with Hugo about how the fight would go. My grandpa would routinely check in and see if the event had started. My grandma always downplayed how good the Mexican boxer was in order not to get her hopes up. My mom and aunts would start getting nervous and pray for our fighter to win.

Once the fight finally started the excitement was palpable. Everyone sat around the TV, the youngest of us had to sit on the ground, but it didn't matter. I was just so happy to be there. All the adults watched eagerly, reacting to every blow with cheers and shouts. When the Mexican fighter was hit my aunt Ivonne would cover her eyes in fear. My mom would yell at the opponent to stop it and call him names, careful not to curse as she was a good catholic woman. "Malo! Feo!"

I remember the respect these men on the TV got. How they seemed larger than life. How they would radiate confidence. How they would dig deep and charge into the fire without a trace of fear. They were everything my pudgy 10 year old ass wasn't.

But mostly, I remember how my grandpa watched the fights. How calculating he looked as he observed every movement, every step and punch so carefully. I remember how much he admired these guys, and how proud he'd look when the Mexican won. I remember how objective he was too. How his bias never really got the better of him when watching; while everyone would look for excuses if the Mexican lost, he'd shrug and say "asi es." His reverence for the sport was infectious, and it has stayed with me since. It is the one thing he really left me after he passed, it is the one thing that always brings me back to him. I am a fight fan today because mi abuelito was one first.