It's a given that everyone who steps into the cage to compete in a high-level mixed martial arts bout is incredibly tough, both mentally and physically. You have to be in order to walk willingly into the lion's den to face off with another athlete. One who has spent years perfecting the craft of human body annihilation.
A single fighter, however, is staking out a lone place at the pinnacle of this lunatic fringe, establishing himself as a fighter without fear, a man to whom limits are laughable.
Just 74 short days ago Conor McGregor stepped into the Octagon to win the undisputed UFC featherweight championship from the great Jose Aldo. In another 10 days he will enter the cage again to battle Nate Diaz at 170 pounds. Fording that 25-pound gulf would rank among the most impressive accomplishments in UFC history.
Two men, both Hall of Famers, have earned UFC gold in two different weight classes. Two more, Anderson Silva and Dan Henderson, have competed at an elite level in three. That's the company McGregor hopes to join—and the attempt alone is worthy of song.
Bleacher Report writers Jonathan Snowden and Mike Chiappetta sat down to discuss a fighter who isn't content to conquer a single division. Is it madness? Or are McGregor's talents too vast for any one weight class to contain?
Mike Chiappetta: I'm glad we're discussing this question, because I don't think people are appreciating McGregor's riverboat gamble here. He is risking his aura and his mission for multiple world titles for almost no reward! The fight against Rafael dos Anjos was quite understandable; he was chasing history. But to stay on the card and then move up in weight to assuage his opponent's short-notice troubles? That's bonkers.
We live in a world where boxer Canelo Alvarez is pressuring Gennady Golovkin to fight him at a 155-pound catchweight for the 160-pound middleweight belt, a five-pound swing that is threatening the bout's signing. Everyone wants to either be the biggest one in the division or force the opponent to suck down to an unhealthy weight. McGregor just doesn't care. He'll fight anywhere along the spectrum as long as he sees green.
Is his approach a bit reckless? In the long run, maybe. It hearkens back to BJ Penn freelancing around divisions with no regard for logic, an experiment that was met with wildly mixed results. Then again, Penn was notorious for a, shall we say, "relaxed" work ethic, while McGregor trains like a madman. While the dos Anjos fight would have been far more meaningful, facing Diaz for no real stakes speaks to the courage befitting a (potential) legend in the making.
Jonathan Snowden: In the world of combat sports, words mostly breeze by like the wind. A lot of fighters have made a lot of money boasting about how big, bad and fearless they are. Meanwhile, behind the scenes, their handlers move mountains to ensure they rarely face anyone with a pulse.
McGregor, quite clearly at this point, is different. His braggadocio is backed by action, his willingness to face just about any man at any time proven by fate and circumstance.
When Dan Henderson was forced to drop out of UFC 151 a little more than a week before the fight, champion Jon Jones refused to step into the cage with Henderson's former teammate, Chael Sonnen. Henderson, at this point predominantly a striker hoping to land a Hail Mary right hand, presented an entirely different challenge than Sonnen, a wrestler who relied almost entirely on his powerful double-leg takedown.
Jones, perhaps wisely, demurred, choosing to fight another day and forcing the UFC to cancel the event. McGregor is a different kind of animal. Faced with similar circumstances last year, McGregor gladly squared off with wrestling stalwart Chad Mendes instead of striking buzzsaw Jose Aldo. Here, again, he's willing to trade dos Anjos' powerful pressure and top control for Diaz's volume punching and dangerous bottom game.
Despite grumbling from some Internet critics, Diaz is no gimme fight. He's a proven commodity, and the bout will be contested at a weight 15 pounds above the one McGregor was planning to weigh just 24 hours ago. Do you think people may be underestimating the danger to McGregor here, Mike?
Chiappetta: If you want to be a stickler, you can reasonably say that Diaz does not present the same danger as dos Anjos, who has transformed into a pretty fearsome fighting machine over the last few years. That said, most people complaining about this match are doing so based on the emotion of hearing the pairing rather than any sort of fight logic. Diaz is undeniably dangerous; 11 of his 18 career wins are by submission, and he's tapped out black belts before. But McGregor has become an event fighter, so all of the X's and O's of fighting—the important stuff—get hidden behind his enormous personality, his headline-grabbing words and his aura. The fight becomes secondary.
The point you make about Jones' refusal to compete on short notice is a good example of why immediate backlash is often off the mark. The outrage against Jones was purely based on emotion. He had a very rational explanation; he and his team prepared for Henderson's specific style and did not feel it was worth risking the title against a late replacement just to keep a date. That's a very sensible approach and worthy of respect.
Every athlete has the right to captain their own career as they see fit. Jones is on one end of the spectrum, but let's be thankful of others like McGregor who steam forward with no need for brakes. McGregor has said repeatedly that he does not train for any single man or style, and every time he's been forced into situations that put that to the test, he raises his hand to volunteer. That alone is walking into danger.
Snowden: If I take off my "journalist" hat, and lord knows it doesn't fit me particularly well, I'll confess to cheering for McGregor in this fight. Not that I wish ill will toward Diaz—my fandom of that family's exploits is long and legendary. But I like the idea of the UFC making these kinds of small concessions to the rich history of combat sports.
In boxing, meandering through weight classes is common. At its worst, that's a problem, an opportunity for fighters to duck certain rivals and ensure only the most favorable outcomes. But, at its best, it gives us fights like "Sugar" Ray Leonard vs. Roberto Duran, epic battles between fighters who agree to see which champion is the better man.
That's what a McGregor win offers. His success in several classes would allow UFC matchmakers to let their imaginations run wild, to make bouts that don't necessarily fit within their current orthodoxies. It's a step toward fighters taking center stage. And that's good, not just for McGregor, but for all who might dare follow him down this path.
Chiappetta: To bring it all back around to the question, Jonathan's scenario proves why McGregor isn't crazy at all, not by a long shot. All of this is due to him. The huge gates, the pay-per-view buyrates, the extra attention, it's all self-created. It's all because of McGregor. He has a plan, motivation and an appetite for risk. Nothing great is achieved by following the mold. McGregor has broken out.
Some people claim they are chasing greatness, but he is doing it. Right in front of our eyes, day by day, minute by minute.
For the MMA world, that's not cause for criticism, it's cause for celebration.
Jonathan Snowden and Mike Chiappetta cover combat sports for Bleacher Report.
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