Let's Get It On!_ The Making of MMA and Its Ultimate Referee - Big John Mccarthy [73]
If I had to pinpoint when McCain’s political pressuring began to affect the promotion, I’d say it was during the final days before UFC 8 “David vs. Goliath,” which was held on February 16, 1996, in the Ruben Rodriguez Coliseum in Bayamón, Puerto Rico.
McCain was meticulous and hadn’t forgotten the United States territory when he’d sent out his UFC hate mail. Puerto Rico actually had an athletic commission, but it had no purview over the UFC. The events weren’t quite boxing or wrestling, and the commission had no regulations for martial arts. So at the time SEG made inquiries to host UFC 8 there, the commission told the promotion they wouldn’t get involved with the event at all if it came.
When I arrived, though, it was a different story. Meyrowitz and Elaine said the commission, possibly spurred on from some last-minute phone calls from a certain senator, was having a change of heart. As fight week counted down, Meyrowitz hired a big-time Puerto Rican lawyer because it looked as if we’d have to take our battle to the courts.
When the commission opted to file an injunction against the event, SEG’s lawyer got the case moved to federal court, the promotion’s only chance to get a halt put on the stop order in time to put on the event.
Three days before UFC 8, I was sitting in Puerto Rico’s federal court, preparing to defend the UFC. I’d already had some experience explaining the events to government officials. Whenever the UFC came rolling into a new town, the local police department usually sent a supervisor or watch commander to speak to SEG. At UFC 6 in Wyoming, I’d been elected to be the promotion’s representative.
The officers had been worried there’d be rowdy fights in the crowd ignited by what was happening in the cage. Since I was an officer, SEG thought I’d be able speak their language and smooth things over.
“Look, it’s not like that,” I’d said. “The fans have a legitimate interest in the fighters, who are all disciplined martial artists.” I’d managed to get them out the door by promising no laws would be broken in hosting the fights.
In Puerto Rico’s federal court, the district argued that UFC 8 was illegal and since it didn’t fall within the commission’s jurisdiction, it shouldn’t be allowed.
I had to sit there in the stand, questioned by both the defense and the prosecution, and explain what the UFC was. “These are all of the same sports you see in the Olympics—boxing, judo, tae kwon do, amateur wrestling. We’re just combining them.”
We presented the best case we could, and then all we could do was wait.
Killing time back at the hotel, UFC announcer Jeff Blatnick and I sat around discussing the name “No Holds Barred.” We thought it had a negative and misleading connotation, so we started brainstorming a new name for the sport. I’d used the term “mixed martial arts” on that LAPD permit form I’d filled out to work at UFC 2, so I threw that name into the hat. I was told later that the same term had been used in Japan for the sport, but this is the way we came up with it here in the United States.
Commentator Jeff Blatnick, who made sure the name “mixed martial arts” caught on, always found time to roll and learn with me at events.
Jeff began referring to the sport as “mixed martial arts,” or “MMA,” on the broadcasts a couple of shows afterward, though “Ultimate Fighting” continued to be used as well. Blatnick should get the credit for popularizing the term “MMA” in the United States. It was his insistence on using it during the UFC broadcasts that finally made it catch on.
The morning of UFC 8, we got word that the courts had thrown out the injunction and we’d be allowed to hold the show that night, which was a good thing because it was sold out. About 7,000 fans packed into the sweltering, poorly ventilated venue.
I met Bruce Buffer, brother