Let's Get It On!_ The Making of MMA and Its Ultimate Referee - Big John Mccarthy [2]
I’m not the only one who respects John. I know the fans, promoters, managers, cornermen, cutmen, athletic commissions, and most important, all of the fighters, respect him tremendously as well.
Luckily for us fighters, John’s omens directed him to the cage, where he’s kept us safe for nearly twenty years. I know I always felt safe when John was in the cage with me. I think you should have that feeling with every referee.
And when the godfather of mixed martial arts, Helio Gracie, tells you, and I quote, “Everything that I have done with jiu-jitsu, you have done with the sport. You are the best there ever was or ever will be. I am proud of who you are and what you have done,” you know you really are the best at what you do.
Godspeed, John, up to your next omen. “Let’s get it on!”
—Bas Rutten
P.S. I might not have come up with the “four Olympic sports” explanation, but I did come up with the word “Livershot.” Party on!
Christmas with my mom and sister: probably the only picture where I can say I look kind of cute
Fishing with my best friend, Chris Lingwall, who caught a cool stingray while I got a lousy crab
SON OF THE GUN
Tiger father begets tiger son.
—Chinese proverb
His eyes tell me he’s had enough. Not his midsection, bruised and tenderized by a round of short, sobering body shots and unmerciful knees. Not his legs, discolored and swollen from a steady attack of low kicks from his opponent. Not his broken nose or forehead, sliced open and dripping red from a perfectly placed elbow shot.
It’s his eyes. I look into the fighter’s eyes, and they tell me he’s scared. He doesn’t know how to get out of this predicament, but he continues because that’s what a fighter does.
It’s in this moment that I know the fight is over. I know he won’t come back. This is when what I do counts most.
I am a mixed martial arts referee. The first of my kind in the United States, I started with the Ultimate Fighting Championship in 1994. Before MMA was even considered a sport, back when it was called No Holds Barred and Ultimate Fighting, I officiated the fights. A one-off pay-per-view spectacle evolved over eighteen years into something followed and cherished by millions of die-hard fans worldwide, and I’m lucky to be able to say I was a part of it.
In its simplest definition, mixed martial arts is the execution of multiple combat sports’ disciplines with the goal of knocking out, submitting, or outscoring an opponent before he does it to you. Fighters jab like boxers, kick like kickboxers, throw knees and elbows like muay Thai stylists, take down opponents like wrestlers, and contort and trap appendages in chokes and holds like jiu-jitsu practitioners. They can perform one or all of these elements in a matter of seconds to win, which makes the sport excitingly unpredictable. A bout can stay on the feet or go to the mat or even dabble in a little of both, wherever the greater athlete or tactician chooses to take it.
There are no guarantees in MMA other than that no two fights ever look the same. An experienced champion can get knocked out by an underdog’s single punch. An overwhelming favorite can make a mistake, and his opponent will capitalize.
For me, MMA is competition. There’s nothing like witnessing two well-trained fighters engaged in battle. There’s an artistry to it. Like a choreographed ballet, when it’s done right, with two well-matched partners, it’s beautiful. It’s poetry in motion, and I can’t take my eyes off it. It’s my sport.
Some people don’t understand MMA. They say it’s dangerous, brutal, and barbaric. They don’t understand the motivation because they personally fear the thought of being in a fight, the rush of adrenaline that will make them shake uncontrollably, the possibility of pain or being dominated with no way to end it.
My job is to stop the competition at just the right