Let's Get It On!_ The Making of MMA and Its Ultimate Referee - Big John Mccarthy [139]
There was now a major UFC pay-per-view event every month with a few UFC Fight Nights and Ultimate Fighter finales sprinkled in on free TV. Celebrities like Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, George Clooney, Cindy Crawford, Kevin James, and Shaquille O’Neal showed up Octagon-side in droves. It always surprised me when a celebrity approached. One of my favorites to meet was Michael Clarke Duncan of The Green Mile fame. Like me, he’d studied jiu-jitsu at the Gracies’ Torrance academy. He ended up holding Elaine’s mini terrier, Yoda, whom she’d snuck into the arena in her bag. That night Duncan left the show with his girlfriend chewing on his ear about getting a dog just like Yoda. All I can say is sorry, Michael.
The United States market seemed well on its way, so Zuffa turned its attention to the virtually untapped United Kingdom, which had shown an appetite for the sport with regional promotions like Cage Rage and Cage Warriors Fighting Championship in the years before. Though Zuffa said it wouldn’t go where the sport wasn’t regulated by an independent government-recognized agency, they made an exception for the United Kingdom. Zuffa had opened an office in London about six months before, and I think they realized if they waited for an existing agency to regulate it, they’d be waiting awhile.
UFC 70 “Nations Collide” was to be the promotion’s first event in the United Kingdom as well as its first event outside the United States since UFC 38 in London in 2002. With no regulatory agency to oversee it, the UFC would be hiring referees, judges, and other officials on its own. The flight was ten hours from Los Angeles, so I asked if Zuffa could fly me business-class. This is when the wheels began to fall off the wagon.
Under my contract with SEG, it had actually been agreed that I’d be flown first-class to all the international UFC events, but I’d always told SEG that it could purchase two coach seats together for me because that was cheaper. After Elaine had stopped working for the UFC, we’d paid for her seat ourselves. I didn’t think asking for a single business-class seat in place of the two economy seats was outrageous, and I wasn’t by any means making this an ultimatum.
My request wasn’t so much a question of privilege; it was more about functionality. I know most people say travel is exciting, but I hate stuffing my six-feet-four, 275-pound self into a seat and pouring out onto the person next to me for ten awkward hours. And I’d be lying if I didn’t say people recognized me and wanted to strike up a conversation when all I wanted to do was get some sleep.
The UFC employee I spoke to about it promised to take my request to Dana White and get back to me.
A week later, I got a call. It was Mark Ratner, the former head of the Nevada State Athletic Commission, who was now working for Zuffa as its vice president of regulatory affairs and would be assigning the officials for the show. “John, what’s this about you asking for a first-class ticket to Manchester?”
“I didn’t ask for a first-class ticket. I asked for a business-class seat. It’s a long freaking way. I’m not expecting it, but if you can do it, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Maybe I heard it wrong. Let me talk to everyone, and I’ll get back to you.”
I didn’t hear from Zuffa until I got a text from Dana White a few days after that: “What the fuck is up with you?”
We were on the phone a few minutes later, with White asking who the fuck I thought I was asking for a first-class ticket.
I understood his anger over what he