Trading Shots: On Brown and Lawler, were we too quick to judge?

In this week’s Trading Shots, MMAjunkie columnist Ben Fowlkes and retired UFC/WEC fighter Danny Downes look at Saturday night’s UFC on FOX 12 main event and wonder, have we been judging fighters too harshly, too soon?

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Fowlkes: Danny, I can’t say I was surprised to see Robbie Lawler (24-10 MMA, 9-4 UFC) get his hand raised on Saturday night, but I was surprised that Matt Brown (21-12 MMA, 12-6 UFC) lasted five full rounds and gave as much back as he did. It makes me wonder, are we too quick to write fighters off in this sport?

I don’t just mean the stuff about Brown’s losing streak, either. Seems like we all made our peace with that dark stage of his career once Brown embarked on the winning streak that was only broken by one of the best welterweights in the world. Instead, I mean this thing we do where we label some fighters “elite” and others, well, something less than that.

We might be comfortable thinking of Brown’s resurgence as a feel-good story, but why did we find it so difficult to believe that he could be really good, yet have lost several fights against some not-so great opposition? Are we too reluctant to believe that some fighters could get make major improvements over time, and even become champions despite lean years or humble beginnings?

Downes: Before I answer your question, let me just say that on behalf of myself and all the MMAjunkie readers out there that we’re all pleased you were able to participate in another Trading Shots column. With your busy schedule of barbecues, brunches and character assassination, how do you manage it all?

To answer your question, I do think that fans, media and (more importantly) those in power are quick to write off fighters. Whenever someone loses a fight, everyone rushes to their computer to be the first to say, “See! I told you he wasn’t any good!” We like to think that a fighter’s potential is static and never changes. Like there’s some inherent level of ability he can reach. I realize I’m teetering suspiciously close toward the “hard work beats talent” cliche, but if it applies to any sport, it’s MMA.

I actually find the Lawler story more interesting than Brown’s. Brown may have been labeled a gatekeeper, but he never left the UFC. Lawler bounced around King of the Cage, ICON Sport, Strikeforce, IFL and EliteXC before setting himself up to challenge for the UFC title a second time. Any time someone leaves the UFC (for whatever reason) the community at large seems to view them as damaged goods.

WSOF and Bellator MMA get chastised for signing UFC “castoffs,” but Jon Fitch, Yushin Okami and others who have been cut still have a lot to contribute. Whether it’s fighters themselves or broader fight cards, I guess some arrogant people just like to think they know more than they really do. Wouldn’t you agree?

Fowlkes: Why yes I – hey, wait a minute. I think the tale of Robbie Lawler the Wandering Warrior is actually a little more understandable, since he was so young (20) when he broke into the UFC the first time, and also still pretty young (22) when he bounced out. At that age, it’s easier to accept that a fighter isn’t mature or experienced enough, and might need more time to round out his skills. I feel like we don’t make the same allowances for guys like Brown, whose three-fight losing streak came when he was pushing 30.

It reminds me a lot of what we see in team sports like football. Everybody’s looking for these specific markers of talent, or at least of potential. They seize on height, weight, bench press and 40-yard dash numbers. They want something they can point to and say, “There, that justifies my faith in this player.” Seems like we do similar stuff in MMA, but we forget that, with such a small sample size of fights, and with so much riding on one night’s performance, there are a lot of ways to get fooled. You can have a bad night and not be a bad fighter. You can have several and still improve from there.

On one hand, Brown’s success (and sure, Lawler’s as well, even if he always got more points for potential back in the day) makes me feel like we’re too quick to make up our minds. But then I wonder, what’s the alternative? Isn’t part of the appeal of fight night the whole stock market economy of the aftermath, looking at who’s up and who’s down? Is that just an inevitable element of the sport? And for the fighters who are down (think Clay Guida and Antonio Rogerio Nogueira, for the moment), what do they tell themselves once the shareholders are rushing to sell?

Downes: The alternative is measured, responsible analysis. But where’s the fun in that? Skip Bayless has made a career using a mix of hyperbole and idiocy, and the only real consequences (as far as I can tell) have been fame and fortune. Whether it’s politics or sports, moderation just does not seem to be something the people want. Oh sure, they’ll say they’d like a little more balance, but do they really?

Take Conor McGregor. Everyone is rushing to say that he’s either all hype or could be the next contender for the featherweight championship. There’s no real middle ground.

As for the fighters themselves, unfortunately they’re just as quick to rush to judgment. At Roufusport, our coaches always told us something to the effect of, “You’re never as bad as your worst day, and never as good as your best one.” Intellectually, we all understood and agreed. Emotionally, however, we never followed the advice. On good days you’d feel like king of the world. Nobody could touch you. On the bad ones, you contemplated quitting the sport altogether.

I don’t know how Guida feels this morning, but I would assume there’s a part of him that thinks he may not be cut out for MMA anymore. That he can’t hang with the big boys. His coaches and teammates will tell them that’s all BS, but he’ll have to convince himself. He’ll think about the past training camp and remember every mistake. He’ll size himself up against other people in the division (including teammates) and ask, “Can I beat them?”

How he answers that question will decide his next move. As he’s making those decisions, he’ll be bombarded with tweets, articles and other noise preparing his MMA obituary.

These problems aren’t solely tied to the Clay Guidas of the world. Even UFC champions have to deal with it. How many people rush to discredit Jon Jones’ accomplishments as champion? What’s the difference between a troll and a journalist? The platform?

Fowlkes: A troll is someone who espouses what they know will be a contrary, divisive viewpoint, not because the troll necessarily believes it, but solely because it is a contrary, divisive viewpoint. The troll cares not so much about being right as about being listened to.

But I don’t think our tendency to rush to judgment immediately after every event is necessarily a symptom of troll-dom. I think it springs from an honest desire to understand, and maybe a somewhat frantic desire to evaluate and classify. It’s why we seem to love rankings so much. We must know where everyone stands at all times! There must be order, even if it’s just a guess.

I don’t know if that’s always bad, but it does seem like it’s often premature. We tend to assume that every fighter is on a consistent, predictable line, and all that’s left to determine is whether that line is going up or down. Maybe it’s the only way we can make sense of a sport where we only see each competitor once every two or three months, at most. Maybe it also too often ignores the possibility that we don’t know these people as well as we think we do.

Downes: Well thank you for enlightening me. The rush to judgement has nothing to do with ego or arrogance; it’s just trying to make sense of the world around us. It’s just a version of MMA Objectivism. Can I borrow your copy of “The Fountainhead”?

Every fighter has a ceiling. Now that ceiling may not be constant, but it exists. I’ll use myself as an example. Could I have ever been UFC champion? I don’t think so. It’s like how I can technically be President of the United States once I turn 35, but I wouldn’t count on it (you can still make donations to the Danny Boy Super PAC if you’d like, though). Could I have done much better? Yes. Was my last professional fight indicative of my talent level? Absolutely not.

Yes, it’s convenient and reassuring for me to believe that instead of the converse, but that’s how I feel. Every fighter has an aura of invincibility. Some may be more deserved than others, but every fighter has one. It’s a mental armor of sorts. You’re stepping into a cage with another human being who has spent weeks of their life solely devoted to hurting you. You’re nervous and a little anxious, but that aura tells you that everything will be fine. “They can’t hurt you,” it says, and you believe it. Over time, though, the aura loses its effectiveness. With every loss, every blow, you start to reassess things and come to the conclusion that your aura of invincibility is nonsense. Worse than that, it’s causing a lot of physical and mental damage in the process.

All those conclusions may be correct, but you need that irrational optimism. Once it’s gone, it’s really hard to justify stepping on the mat every morning. I don’t know if Brown or Lawler ever lost theirs, but I’m sure there were some days when that aura faded. Despite all the doubts, fears and losses, they brought it back. And to me, that’s more impressive than any welterweight title shot.

For more on UFC on FOX 12, stay tuned to the UFC Events section of the site.

Ben Fowlkes is MMAjunkie and USA TODAY’s MMA columnist. Danny Downes, a retired UFC and WEC fighter, is an MMAjunkie contributor who also writes for UFC.com and UFC 360. Follow them on twitter at @benfowlkesMMA and @dannyboydownes.

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