Let's Get It On!_ The Making of MMA and Its Ultimate Referee - Big John Mccarthy [59]
Of the eight opening-round bouts, the seventh was a pretty good fight, mostly because both men had a little knowledge of jiu-jitsu. Jason DeLucia, the determined, athletic youngster who’d submitted Trent Jenkins during the UFC 1 alternates match, returned to face Scott Baker, a Wing Chun master who’d been training in Brazilian jiu-jitsu with black belt Pedro Sauer in Salt Lake City, Utah. DeLucia had been choked out by Royce at UFC 1, and I knew he’d sought out some jiu-jitsu instruction afterward, so I was a lot more familiar with his capabilities.
DeLucia sprang out of the gate and landed a traditional sidekick to Baker’s body before he clinched with him. Though DeLucia was trying to initiate the takedown, he didn’t resist Baker’s instinct to push him to the ground. DeLucia now had guard from his back, but Baker was able to pass and get to full mount, where he was basically sitting on DeLucia’s chest. DeLucia did a good job of using his hips to buck Baker off balance and take top position. It was solid Jiu-Jitsu 101 technique.
DeLucia then fell back and nestled Baker’s foot into his armpit for a heelhook attempt. Amazingly, Baker countered the hold and escaped to his feet. Ladies and gentleman, we had a fight.
Another takedown and a reversal from each man later, DeLucia lined up a triangle choke, locking up Baker’s head and arm by creating a triangle with his legs around them. Again Baker fought his way out of the finishing move. DeLucia found the triangle choke again from his back, but this time he flipped to top position with it. DeLucia was in perfect position to start punching Baker, who’d faded under all the pressure.
I was a little startled when DeLucia started speaking to him. “Dude, I don’t want to hit you anymore. Just give it up.”
After eating a few more fists, Baker did.
The final opening-round match, which would lead off the live pay-per-view, matched Royce against five-feet-seven, 160-pound karate expert Minoki Ichihara. Again, Royce’s first opponent of the night had symbolic value. Karate had had a healthy run in the United States, thanks to films like The Karate Kid, and the Japanese Ichihara was viewed as mysterious and potentially dangerous. Of course, I didn’t think Ichihara had a chance. We were talking about a man who’d dedicated his life to a discipline that doesn’t allow strikes to the head.
If the other fighters had known I’d already studied jiu-jitsu under Royce for nearly a year, maybe they would have said something about me refereeing his fight. But I never thought I would have a problem with it, and I never did anything special for Royce.
In my mind, it was the same as being a police officer. When a child molester moved next to a school and the neighbors harassed him, I had to be impartial, protecting his rights just as I would any other citizen. I learned early on in refereeing that there would always be fighters whose personalities I liked more than others, but that didn’t mean I could treat one fighter better than his opponent once the bell rang. I couldn’t gamble with people’s lives like that. So when Royce entered the cage, it was simply my eighth bout of the night; that was all.
The bout played out predictably with Royce taking Ichihara down with his trusty double-leg and mounting him. Ichihara had zero knowledge of ground technique, so he held on to Royce’s body while Royce peppered him with the occasional punch. Royce finally pulled the lapel of Ichihara’s uniform across the Japanese fighter’s neck in a gi choke to coax out the tap.
The sixteen had been whittled down to eight.
In the first quarterfinal, my resolve was tested again. Patrick Smith was matched against ninjutsu expert Scott Morris. The two quickly clinched, but Morris lost his footing on his takedown attempt, allowing Smith to fall