FanPost

How The Losers Of UFC 223 Became The Biggest Winners

I have a snifter with a two-finger pour of Johnny Walker in my left hand, and an American Spirit cigarette, cherry and wafting its dulcet smoke entrancingly upward towards the detector overhead, in my right hand. I've heard that these vices can enhance the satisfaction of an orgasm after its completion, and following the tantric release I experienced after the culmination of UFC 223, I can testify to the validity of such claims. It's finally over, and the relief is overwhelming.

UFC 223 will go down as the most infamous fight card in MMA history, mostly because of the ancillary shenanigans that preceded it. We had dollies on rent from the local U-Haul being turned into projectiles, interim champions refusing to remove their Stunna Shades while indoors, little men being punk'd by Russian Special Forces in the halls of the local HOJO while en route to the continental breakfast, fighters taking glass shrapnel to the face and subsequently being forced to drop their fights, a super hero stepping out of a phone booth to save the day only to have his plans thwarted by the evil NSAS, a former champion catching the vapors, about-facing, and ducking the only opportunity he'll ever have to regain the title he swore he was once again on course to obtain, the Irish non-stick Don being arraigned on three misdemeanor charges of being an over protective lover and one felony charge of contributing to the delinquency of an out of control ego, and finally we had a slew of lightweight fighters faking the funk, expressing the desire to take a fight scheduled to take place in sixteen hours through tweets being posted via servers located halfway across the world.

After all of this, we were left with a fight card destined to fall an eternity's length short of its original expectation. It's beyond rare that a background vocalist upstages the star lead singer of the show, or an extra steals the scene from a veteran Hollywood A-lister, but that's exactly what happened when the remaining fighters participating on the UFC 223 card became the afterthought to all the headlines and hoopla generated by extraneous characters and circumstances. Somehow, someway, the actual fights managed to vanquish the shadows that were cast upon this fight card, and although we witnessed the crowning of a new lightweight champion, Khabib Nurmagomedov, and the validation of the women's strawweight champion, Rose Namajunas, it was some of the losers of UFC 223 that were the biggest winners.

Kyle Bochniak was facing a highly touted future flyweight title contender, Zabit Magomedsharipov, whom no fighter in the division was raising their hand to volunteer to test. Matter of fact, handfuls of fighters were becoming stricken with mysterious illnesses not documented in the WebMD databases, and injuries unsubstantiated by any eyewitness, when asked to take a fight with Magomedsharipov. Don't get me wrong; I'd do the exact same thing if faced with an offer to fight this well rounded, athletic, and dynamic killer. But it's guys like Kyle Bochniak who seize opportunities, who refuse to consider risk and choose to focus solely on what they stand to gain. From the opening bell, Kyle showed Magomedsharipov no respect inside the cage, as if he hadn't heard a single word of praise that the pundits were bestowing upon Magomedsharipov. Kyle got in Magomedsharipov's face, and that's where he stayed. Kyle crowded Magomedsharipov personal space, and in doing so he was able to stifle a lot of Magomedsharipov's flashy and most dangerous attacks. It defies one's own intuition for personal safety to stay in the face of such a dangerous striker, but to the contrary it is actually the safest place to be. This tactic makes it difficult to get full extension and momentum on power punches and kicks, while allowing the smaller less rangey fighter in Bochniak to land his best offense. Magomedsharipov was still able to land effective strikes through out the fight, but he wasn't able to land any that would send Bochniak to the showers early. The well-educated crowd was aware of the hype surrounding Magomedsharipov, and you could sense the crowd's excitement and the anticipation it had for seeing Magomedsharipov scoring a highlight reel knockout. What the crowd and the fans watching from all over the world didn't anticipate was a fight of the year candidate, made possible mostly because of the heart and the caution to the wind approach of Kyle Bochniak. Kyle won over the crowd with every flurry he initiated, and my homie Weeski and I found ourselves on our feet yelling at the MacBook Pro that we were streaming (we had our heads on swivels, keeping a lookout for any FBI agents that might come rappelling through the ceiling) the fights on. In the end, Kyle Bochniak lost a decision and subsequently added a tic mark in the "L" column, but he won much more than any win-loss record on Sherdog.com could ever give credit to.

I believe the best performances in sports come from athletes who are not paralyzed by the possibility of defeat. They've come to terms with the possibility (and sometimes the likelihood) of defeat, and as a result they provide a performance that can only be achieved without allowing the fear of the outcome to affect their psyche. Kyle Bochniak displayed this very ability. Much respect homie. By showing Bochniak love, I in no way want to take away from Magomedsharipov's performance or the immense potential this guy possesses. As they say, it takes two to Tango.

Joanna Champion Jedrzejczyk lost her second straight fight to Rose Namajunas in the co-main event of Saturday's card, but she too should take solace in the heart she found within herself when all the chips were down. Jedrzejczyk was down two rounds early in this fight, and she hadn't had much success at all in establishing her own striking range, which is exactly what led to her downfall in her first meeting with Namajunas. Not only was Jedrzejczyk wearing a bruised right eye, but she was also wearing a mask of frustration, and at times she was plagued by tentativeness. Namajunas was able to stay on the outside of most of Joanna's attacks while countering with beautiful combinations of her own. After the second round Joanna had reached a crossroads. In fact, Namajunas' corner was telling Rose that Joanna was looking for a way out, and to be honest, I couldn't disagree with their assessment of Joanna's demeanor. But something changed in between that second and third round. Maybe it can be attributed to in-fight adjustments and the increased focus on delivering more leg kicks, but I also think she had a very honest conversation with herself while she was sitting on that stool. Sometimes you don't have a choice in determining winning and losing; sometimes you're just not the better participant, but you do have a choice in how you go out. I.E., you can go out tapping to strikes again, or you can go out on your shield if indeed going out is in the cards you were dealt. In that moment Joanna made her decision to make adjustments and carry on, to show the reason she was a five-time defending champion was due to far more than just having a better skill set than her previous opponents. Joanna fought her way back into the fight leg kick after leg kick which slowed Rose's movement, and this allowed Joanna to establish her range and string together combinations. As a result, Joanna won rounds three and four (who knows what fight the two judges that gave Rose rounds three and four and gave Joanna round two were watching) setting up a title determining round five. It turns out Rose was able to dig a little deeper and stayed a little more busy in round five, and she walked away with her belt still strapped around her waist.

The truest cliches derive from combat sports and here's a fitting one; "You're not a true champ until you've been knocked down and been forced to get back up." Getting back up isn't always defined by ultimately winning your title back, or by just winning in general. Getting back up is continuing to swim against the current of self-doubt when you're arms feel like they can't make one more stroke. Getting back up is not giving your opponent the satisfaction of knowing they have broken you. Getting back up is fighting for the inner voice that no one else can hear, the only voice that truly defines whom you really are, and it's the only voice that you ever have to answer to. What that voice describes when you look in the mirror is far more important and gratifying than any belt or title can ever be. Joanna proved she is a true champion by how she performed when all the odds were against her, and the weight of all the expectations were placed squarely upon her shoulders at the worst possible time. Joanna may never hold a belt ever again, maybe she will, but Jonna displayed all the attributes that we hope are within ourselves when we face trying circumstances.

Last but not least is Al Iaquinta. The man who brought fists to a gunfight. The man who stepped up when every one else stepped down. Sure, there were all sorts of fighters claiming to want a fight that they knew there was no practical or logistical way of actually happening. There were guys claiming to want to step up who are currently scheduled for main events next week and the week after, like the UFC is going to ruin another card by removing one of their main event contestants. There were fighters halfway across the globe claiming they wanted a fight that was set to take place in mere hours as if they mastered teleportation, and they could be in New York in the blink of an eye. You had fighters that claim to be down to fight any one, at any place, and at any time, but they don't stay in shape and couldn't make weight in sixteen weeks much less sixteen hours. These are the same guys that treat fighting like a traditional sport that has off-seasons, and they're never ready to take advantage of an opportunity when it presents itself. But it sounds cool to say you'll fight at the drop of a hat. So you know what? I said fuck it, and I threw my name in the mix too. Why not? There's no chance of that ever actually happening so at least I can sound tough, and I can pretend that I would have shocked the world if only I was given the opportunity. There was a former lightweight champ that came up with any excuse he could google as to why he wouldn't take the fight. This was after claiming on all of the countdown shows that Showtime Pettis was back and poised for a title run. When the title all but fell in his lap he was ghost. The man who did show up and represented himself, his team, and his family with high honors was Ragin' Al Iaquinta. Al fought a guy in Khabib Nurmagomedov who was considered to be one of the top pound for pound fighters in the world despite never having held a world title. Khabib posed the worst possible matchup for any one with a full twelve-week camp to prepare for much less only having sixteen hours to prepare for him.

Chances are that Iaquinta would have never been in a title fight in his entire career, much like former middleweight champ Michael Bisping may have never had a title fight had he not stepped in when the opportunity presented itself against Luke Rockhold. They call it once in a lifetime because none in a lifetime doesn't have much of a ring to it. The risk in fighting Khabib is being humiliated in front of millions of people, but the up side is being the greatest real life Rocky story of all time. If both of these possibilities were placed on opposite ends of a seesaw, being humiliated would be thrust into the air. There's far more to gain than there is to lose. Ragin' Al took his chances and went the full five rounds with a real life monster. He even provided some "Oh shit!" moments, and he was able to get back to his feet after being taken down time and time again. Al's face never showed fear, frustration, or any lack of confidence. He believed he could pull off the impossible up until the final bell rang, and even though Al didn't walk away with the belt, he did walk away with the admiration and respect of his peers and all of his new fans.

There's a line I wrote in a song titled "Thru The Valley," and it goes like this: "Fuck the times I never tried, not the ones I failed." Of all the songs and verses I've written since I was 15 years old, I've always been particularly proud of capturing that sentiment. In the end, there is honor in losing. As much as there are silver linings and lessons to be learned in every misstep we take through out our lives. Sometimes you have to embrace defeat, walk a few blocks with it, get to know it, and in doing so you'll realize that there's nothing to be afraid of. Peace out homies!!

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