Let's Get It On!_ The Making of MMA and Its Ultimate Referee - Big John Mccarthy [53]
We all stayed in the hotel an extra night because Rorion had planned a big after party, a fancy Carnivale-themed masquerade ball. I wore a tux, and some wore tuxedos and masks, but most of the fighters showed up wearing T-shirts and jeans.
I spoke a bit with Ken Shamrock, who had a shiner from Patrick Smith’s kick. “I’ll be fighting only a couple more years,” he said during our conversation.
At the UFC’s first ever after party with Art Davie, Kathy Kidd, Rorion, Elaine, and the maître d’
It was a pleasant affair. There were no bad feelings among the fighters. They’d done their best and left it in the cage.
I didn’t know then if there would be another UFC, though I was certainly hoping for it. I did know one thing: I was getting in that cage.
From UFC 2 on, I handled all of the fighters’ rules meetings. (UFC 25, April 2000)
Remco Pardoel vs. Ryan Parker at UFC 7: trying to look like I know what I’m doing (September 1995)
BEST SERT IN THE HOUSE
The secret of success is to be ready when your opportunity comes.
—Benjamin Disraeli
Two weeks following the first UFC, Rorion called me at home. “Will you be coming to the academy anytime soon?” he asked. “I have something important to speak with you about.”
I assumed he wanted to talk about the application I’d filled out and dropped off on Kathy Kidd’s desk. If the UFC was going to continue, I wanted to fight in the next tournament.
When I came in for my next jiu-jitsu class, Rorion said, “What are you doing? You’re with us, and Royce is doing this. You can’t fight Royce. You can enter when Royce leaves.”
I hadn’t realized Royce would fight in the next UFC, and I certainly wasn’t entering to challenge Royce. At the time, I hadn’t thought so much of the UFC as a vehicle for the Gracies. But to Rorion, that’s exactly what it was: an infomercial for Gracie Jiu-Jitsu.
And what an audience he already had. UFC 1 had already surpassed all expectations with its initial pay-per-view numbers—it ended up with 86,000 buys—and SEG had given Rorion the green light to begin planning a second event.
Rorion had other designs for me. “John, how would you like to be the referee at the next show? You know what the fighters are supposed to be doing, and you can react in a split second to stop the fight if anyone taps out.”
Rorion explained how the Brazilian referees at UFC 1 hadn’t followed his directions. When Tuli took Gordeau’s foot in the face and his tooth went airborne, the referee had stepped in to protect Tuli, but he didn’t have the power to do so. Rorion wanted the fights uninterrupted, the way they had been for his father in Brazil.
To make sure it went right at the next UFC, Rorion had a few changes in mind, and he wanted me to help institute them. “John, we’ll have you sit in a lifeguard chair outside the cage, and when the fight is over, you’ll throw a red towel in so the fighters will know when to stop.”
I had zero experience refereeing anything, but I’d seen enough street fights to know the idea was preposterous. Two guys going at each other wouldn’t see the towel, let alone obey it. It was a disaster waiting to happen.
However, I wanted to be involved in the UFC whatever way I could. I felt it in my bones, so I made a deal with Rorion. If I could stay in the cage with the fighters to monitor the fights closely, I’d give refereeing a try.
Rorion finally relented.
At first, I didn’t put much thought into refereeing. At the police academy, my good friend Joe Hamilton and I talked about it as casually as we would the weekend’s upcoming football game.
“John, you ever referee a boxing match or a jiu-jitsu tournament?”
“Nope.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
“I’ve got no clue.” I laughed. “I’m just going to stand back and try to look like I know what I’m doing. It’s No Holds Barred. Man, there’s no rules, and they don’t want me to stop it.”
I really didn’t think I’d have much to do come fight night. None of the matches at UFC 1 had gone five minutes.
My plan was to