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Living the Fight: The Emotional Journey of a Fight Fan
Written by Jack Barrington   
Sunday, 25 October 2009 12:51
I found inspiration for this article while sitting alone in the house early this Sunday morning, the time approaching 5:30am (I'm situated in the U.K.), I experienced something that made me realize precisely what it means to be a fight fan.

Having just witnessed Mauricio “Shogun” Rua out-strike Lyoto Machida for five rounds, my voice hoarse from shouts of encouragement screamed wildly at the TV set, I sat upright, eagerly anticipating the moment where I would at last see “my” fighter with his hand raised. The fight itself was exhilarating enough, let alone the months before of fervent article writing and animated debate on the FightLockdown forums, several other Shogun fans and I had finally gotten our moment, the man we had supported defended and promoted was at last set to be crowned the champion of the world. And then...

...in one foul swoop of three judges’ scorecards, victory was unjustly snatched away from Shogun, from all of us. My first thought was one of shock, then anger; and finally I was left with a profound sense of amazement, amazement at how being a fight fan is like being a fan of no other sport. In no other sport do you live so utterly and completely in the moment along with the competitors like you do when watching a fight. This is not exclusive to MMA, I have experienced these feelings with boxing and kickboxing alike, one of the best and worst aspects of being an MMA fan is how you live the fight along with “your” fighter, you live high with the wins, and oh so heart achingly low with the losses.

UFC 104 left me in a state of disbelief, dismayed at how a fighter could go out there and give it their all, beat a supposedly unbeatable fighter where they were strongest, and then be denied by three seemingly clueless and ultimately authoritative men. The disappointment felt by Rua and his team was replicated amongst his legions of fans, having been told over and over that our man would come up short, we were denied glory just as it was ostensibly in our grasp. However, as bad as it feels seeing one of your favourite fighters drop a bad decision; that same emotion is amplified several times over when watching them take a beating.

Very few MMA fans of my generation will disagree, that it was excruciating to watch Antônio Rodrigo Nogueira suffer the first stoppage loss of his career to Frank Mir back at UFC 92. The man we “knew” would never be stopped in a fight, the man we had seen take countless beatings only to come back and win, and the man we had sat back and watched in awe dominate several top heavyweight fighters, looked a shell of his former self as Mir tee’d off on him for two painful rounds. Slow and sluggish, a previously staph-infected Nogueira was methodically picked apart by Mir and all around the world; MMA fans hearts could be heard breaking along with every single blow, mine included.

The one moment in MMA that I have refused to watch again for years now, is Japanese legend Kazushi Sakuraba being kneed into oblivion by Ricardo Arona. I broke that vow today and without any hint of exaggeration or sensationalism, I felt every crushing blow in that fight along with Sakuraba. Seeing him bloodied and battered on his knees once again caused me the distress that had prevented me from watching that fight for so long. Again, with no degree of embellishment, the only word that can accurately describe that fight in my mind is “heartbreaking”. Sitting through that fight, and thinking of the countless other occasions on which I have had to see my favourite fighters lose whilst writing this article, has actually made me question why I, why we as MMA fans put ourselves through this, and of course it is because there is an undeniable flip side to that coin.


Watching a fighter not only win a fight, but achieve a life long goal while putting their body on the line for our entertainment is a frankly awe inspiring experience. The unbridled elation amongst fans at seeing Shogun’s run in the PRIDE 2005 Middleweight Grand Prix is something that is hard to imitate in any other sport. Way back in 2000 when Mark Coleman was bouncing off of the ring ropes in celebration of his own Grand Prix triumph, there is no doubt in my mind that at home thousands of fans were doing the exact same thing, nervous tension exploding into pure and unquestionable joy as their fighter delivered a barrage of knees and hammer fists. Forget the depressed nights after seeing your fighter outclassed, these moments when your fighter prevails are what being an MMA fan is all about.

Possibly the most emotional I have ever been after a fighter's victory, is when Mirko “Cro Cop” Filipović realized his lifelong ambition to be a champion by stopping Josh Barnett in the Pride 2006 Open Weight Grand Prix Finals. Seeing Mirko breakdown in tears with that win left me with a feeling of total adulation, I was at first hesitant to admit this, but that fight is the closest I have ever come to actually crying when watching this sport. No tears were actually shed in my household, but it was most definitely a close call as there was a rather large lump in this faithful writer’s throat.

That fight in particular proves the point I am trying to make here, that we cannot have those blissful highs without the despondent lows that came before them. Seeing Mirko previously derailed by "Minotauro" Nogueira and Kevin Randleman, before ultimately coming up short against Fedor Emelianenko, only made the moment when he finally attained that intensely sought after glory so much sweeter.

Without sounding too cliché, we all know just how much of an “emotional rollercoaster” being a fight fan can be at times. But, however much we hate seeing our favourite fighters lose or being wronged by the judges, these moments simply serve to make the final victory so much more gratifying.

And it is in those final moments of victory, that we find the reason we all continually come back for more, no matter how many times we see our fighters lose, no matter how many times they underperform, and no matter how many times the judges rule inexplicably against them. They are all worth it because that feeling, that unexplainable feeling when they win is, very much like this sport that we all know and love, something very special indeed.

So next time you are down and your favourite fighter bruised and broken, remember the good times of the past and those sure to come still in the future. This is our sport, and they are our fighters, and those countless hours of debating other fans on forums, or tracking down long forgotten fights on the internet, in that final moment, that final moment of glory, they are all irrefutably worth every single second of it.