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  • Fights That Shouldn’t Have Been Made: Three Unreal Squash Matches In Japanese MMA

    Fights That Shouldn’t Have Been Made: Three Unreal Squash Matches In Japanese MMA

    In the 90s, particularly in the early to mid 90s, Japan was still shedding its roots in professional wrestling. This means organizations like Shooto, RINGS, and Pancrase were focused on building STARS. The only thing more important than building stars, was making these stars bigger and bigger. In 1995, Pancrase was home to a few big names. Masakatsu Funaki and Minoru Suzuki were the obvious ones (as they founded the company), but more fighters would bring the Japanese promotion to success, including foreigners. We’re talking about guys like Ken Shamrock, Bas Rutten, Frank Shamrock, and Guy Mezger. Ken was leading the charge when it came to American stars in Japan, given that he had been competing there as a professional wrestler since 1990. By 1995 he had amassed a 15-3 record in NHB and beaten virtually everyone in Pancrase barring Suzuki, who would essentially become his Dennis Hallman. A catch wrestler who had become competent enough as a striker, Ken was as skilled and as tough as they come, and one of the absolute best fighters on the planet during that time. He was the first foreign fighter to become the King of Pancrase (or champion of any Japanese organization), a title and accomplishment endeared and respected by all. And here comes one of the biggest legitimate squash matches I’ve ever seen in MMA and NHB. 

    The World’s Most Painful Submission

    In January of 1995, Pancrase found a lamb and slapped it on a platter for Shamrock to feast on. He was a training partner of Bas Rutten, who Ken had two wins over, and was coming into this matchup as an 0-1 professional, with his sole fight being a loss to Vernon White by heel hook. Now Vernon White was a good fighter who was probably closer to being a natural middleweight, and he was fighting guys much bigger than him, who (almost) all had a grappling or wrestling background. He also churned out some solid wins in his career, including a later win over Dave Terrell. All this to say that while White was a pretty good fighter at the time, if you’re losing to him on the ground by heel hook, you’re probably not ready for The World’s Most Dangerous Man. There was nothing to suggest that the fight between Ken Shamrock and Leon Van Dijk should have been made, other than they needed to make a fight and it needed to make their star look good, so it was made, and boy did Ken Shamrock look good. 

    Bas Rutten has since described Leon as his “main training partner” in the 90s and has also alluded to Leon being an utra-tough and violent guy, presenting him as a loose cannon who got into many fights on the streets of Holland. All of that aside, Leon comes from a Dutch kickboxing background, which he displayed well against Vernon, pressuring him and forcing him to look for a takedown. On the ground he displayed rudimentary defense, something that would be eaten alive by Ken Shamrock, ultimately fleecing Leon. Heel hook was a specialty of Shamrock and he would need some strong deodorant, taking the feet of many poor souls and twisting them into oblivion. The contest would last less than five minutes. When the action started, Leon opened with a low kick, to which Ken countered brilliantly with a PIVOT-SIDESTEP-LEFT HOOK. UFC FIGHTERS, ARE YOU TAKING NOTES? Shamrock easily takes Van Dijk down. From here it’s clear Leon has done his homework: He’s clasping his hands together to prevent an armlock, something we saw him do against Vernon White. While Shamrock is distracted trying to break that grip, Leon would either pull Ken’s head down close his own chest, or sweep one of Ken’s legs to stop him from standing up (which Ken needs to do in order to roll for a leg lock). Despite this, Ken gets ahold of Leon’s left leg anyways, but gets overzealous and doesn’t control Leon’s hips. Van Dijk uses this to his advantage and briefly gets top position, which Ken reverses. After narrowly escaping a kneebar with a rope escape, a tired Van Dijk is taken down again, and this process is repeated again and again as Van Dijk gradually gets worn down by the grinding pressure of Shamrock, until Ken easily steps over into full mount. Shamrock gets ahold of Leon’s left leg again and rolls into a heel hook, turning his foot and squeezing with his left arm to hold it in place. The silence of the crowd is broken with a verbal tap of “AHHHH! AHHHHH! AH SHIT!” coming from Van Dijk, his desperate cries met with concern from the ring officials. Leon Van Dijk was in serious pain. With almost no strikes landed and most of his time spent being dominated on the ground, four minutes and forty-five seconds proved Leon Van Dijk had nothing for Ken Shamrock, and suffered a broken ankle for his troubles. It was clear this fight shouldn’t have happened to begin with. In a 2015 interview, Ken talked a bit about the heel hook, saying he didn’t purposely use unnecessary force:

    “The reason why that one happened was because when I put that on, it was cross-body, and he laid backwards. And when he laid backwards it had put more pressure on his heel, and I was sitting up and I went backwards- and it was just one of those things that happened. I would never try to hurt anybody on purpose, especially at the level that he was at. Like I told you, I even talked to Leon Dijk and Bas Rutten before that, and I made it really clear- I’m not gonna go in and beat this guy up- he’s a young kid, he doesn’t know anything- and so that was not my intention.”

    Fights like this one eventually led to Pancrase banning heel hooks, which led to fighters using ankle locks and other hold modifications to “toe-tag” their opponents and make them tap (or hurt them). I will acknowledge that getting thrown to the wolves thirty years ago is a lot different from being a sacrificial lamb now. Back then, there weren’t a ton of fighters on the professional circuit, and making fights between two closely matched guys could be extraordinarily difficult, and sometimes nearly impossible. Nowadays it’s much easier to fill up a card, as generally there are lots of fighters on the regionals waiting for their big shot, guys in between fights who need to make more money, or just want to take a fight because they are getting ancy. In the 90s there was a general sense of toughness and desperation, with a lot of men becoming professional fighters out of pure necessity, or because fighting was the only path that stood between jail and death. Were there better or more competitive matchups available for Ken that night? Sure. Of the Pancrase roster, Shamrock never fought Jason DeLucia, who had wins over both Suzuki and Funaki, and Shamrock was never matched up with Vernon White, a longtime Pancrase veteran. Regardless, Leon Van Dijk became another victim of the Ken Shamrock heel hook that night.

    Don’t Let The Dog Out Of The Kennel

    By 2005, we’d seen almost everything. We saw Kevin Randleman knock out Mirko Cro Cop and then Cro Cop submit Randleman with a guillotine, in a surrealist picture that only Japanese MMA could paint. We saw football-player-turned-unskilled-real-life-Blanka Bob Sapp knockout one of the best heavyweight kickboxers, Ernesto Hoost, TWICE. We had seen the rise of fighters like Wanderlei Silva, Fedor Emelianenko, and Kazushi Sakuraba – the latter of which this next fighter has a win over. His name is Kiyoshi Tamura. Kiyoshi was a professional wrestler-turned-fighter, who’s MMA career was born out of the desire to test himself in an actual fist fight. Following the demise of Universal Wrestling Federation (UWF) in 1990, Tamura turned to its successor, Union of Wrestling Forces International (UWFi). In 1992 he trained under Lou Thesz, who sharpened his wrestling skills, and helped him become the best wrestler in UWFi. After participating in two shootfights (real fights), the wheels started turning and by 1995, he was unsatisfied with the direction of professional wrestling, wanting to participate in real contests, not predetermined works. After negotiations with Pancrase and RINGS, Kiyoshi Tamura made his RINGS debut in 1996. He would collect a record of 26-11-3 by 2005 and defeat the likes of Maurice Smith, Pat Smith, Dave Menne, Pat Miletich, Renzo Gracie, Jeremy Horn, and Valentijn Overeem. He even fought to a draw with Frank Shamrock (who was in the middle of a massive win streak). Tamura was the former 2x RINGS Openweight Champion. These aren’t the wins of a bad or even decent fighter, this a resume far beyond that of your average Japanese jobber. Although so far Tamura hadn’t had the best luck in PRIDE, having been matched up against Wanderlei Silva and Bob Sapp in his first two fights.

    At PRIDE 29, Kiyoshi Tamura met a man named Aliev Makhmud. Let me just preface this by saying we don’t know much about Makhmud. What we do know about him is that he is a multiple time Azerbaijan Freestyle Wrestling Champion, and became the face of wrestling in the Eastern European country for a period of time in the mid 2000s. We can assume PRIDE promised him a lot of money for a last minute fight against Kiyoshi Tamura, and aside from that, Makhmud is an enigma. The fact that Aliev was NOT a professional fighter and had never fought before makes this one of the worst squash matches in MMA history (and worse than Tamura having to fight Wanderlei Silva in his PRIDE debut, but that’s another story). Aliev Makhmud is introduced as 5’7’’, 187 pounds. He is 35 years old, and conveniently described as “making his debut in PRIDE Fighting Championships”…. And yet, during fighter announcements, Aliev appears remarkably calm for somebody in a ring for the first time in front of over 22,000 fans, almost like he thinks this is a huge wrestling match (and is wearing wrestling-style shorts). Makhmud comes out in a square stance, hands down, feinting and jumping at Tamura from 8 feet away without coming close to touching him, like a 6 year old boy who just got let out of a dog kennel. Aliev bullrushes Tamura and gets him up against the ropes, landing two decent short punches, which may have been the most significant thing he did the entire fight. Once they are separated Makhmud lunges in again, and eats a nice punching combination from Tamura. I will say that I was impressed with at Makhmud’s reaction to taking punches, he didn’t seem to mind them all that much, and it didn’t stop him from trying to close the distance and wrestle. Once the bulldog calmed down, Tamura walked into range and slammed him with a middle round kick or low kick, watching and waiting for more unusual tactics from Aliev.

    At one point Makhmud does get a takedown but is unable to do much with it, Tamura stands up, and Makhmud gets a double collar tie. He pulls Tamura’s head down and it appears as though he is landing knees, but in reality, he is landing with his mid-thigh, which is not a damaging technique. Tamura blocks them with his forearm, and waits for him to finish throwing. At this point Makhmud is starting to look tired, their separation met with deep breaths and stationary legs. The two throw flying knees at the same time, with Kiyoshi’s knee incidentally pulverizing Aliev’s nut sack. After recovering from the low blow for three plus minutes, Bas declared that Aliev Makhmud was “quitting”.

    After five minutes of rest, Aliev in fact did not quit, and the fight resumed. Makhmud then attempted a leaping side kick that would leave Karate practitioners gasping for air, jumping with a forty inch vertical, and somehow eating a mid-air low kick. Makhmud ate another kick and kept coming, froggied his way back into range and cracked Tamura with a left hand. Tamura was surprised by this, ate another right hand, and backed away. A follow up flurry by Aliev would yield no damage, as Tamura would land a lead hook counter and move away. With about six minutes remaining in the first round, the two exchange glares while engaging in a lengthy staring contest. Makhmud, without the IQ or skills of a fighter, has been jumping around for four minutes, and is now exhausted from the parkour. He backs up into the ropes and Tamura knows something is up, and while Makhmud is signaling something to the ref, Tamura lunges in and lands two body kicks. This is followed by a “just kidding” moment when Aliev blitzes Kiyosha, misses on a punch and whiffs badly on a leaping, spinning back kick attempt that would make even 1960s Kung-Fu movie choreographers wince. Tamura knew it was only a matter of time so he just kept stalking, landing a jab followed by another middle kick.

    Aliev Makhmud is now talking to the ref and Tamura, but it’s unclear what he’s saying, or what language he’s speaking. He grabs the ropes and squats down, grabbing his groin, with all signs pointing to his resignation. Aliev shakes his head and waves to the ref, and the fight is called.

    Putting aside the fact that this was a huge mismatch, confusion throughout the round at Aliev’s unusual behavior may have actually prevented the referee from stopping the fight earlier, as he may have thought this was part of Makhmud’s game or strategy. After the fight was stopped, Tamura left the ring immediately, completely bamboozled at the lack of honor and frog-like tactics of Aliev. Mauro Renallo sums up the bout as “a page out of the Pride Fighting Championships twilight zone”, and refers to Makhmud’s unusual movement as “yo-yo mannerisms”. On the other hand Bas is left speechless, merely recommending that Makhmud “work on his stand up” before he takes another fight. Either way all Kiyoshi Tamura had to do was move out of the way for most of the fight, land some jabs and a few counters, and let Makhmud walk into liver kicks repeatedly. The result of the fight reflected the matchmaking, and Aliev Makhmud proved that to be a fighter, you have to actually be a fighter.

    The Best Versus The Guest

    PRIDE Fighting Championships did some crazy shit, and their audience were no strangers to seeing their favorite Japanese wrestler get knocked out by a budding star that the promotion was looking to build. While this was reserved for future standouts and current superstars, PRIDE was actively engaged in a more subtle form of fight-fixing: keeping their most popular fighters popular by matching them up against less popular fighters who weren’t good fighters, who would never be good or popular fighters (or were has-beens). One such example of this is one of the most one-sided, if not THE most one-sided fights I have ever seen. Indubitably this would be Fedor Emelianenko vs. Wagner da Conceicao Martins, or as we will refer to him, “Zuluzinho”. A lot of people have knowledge of this fight. But if you really look back on where Fedor was in his career, the run he was on, who he beat, and the little we knew about Zulu, you’ll come to the same conclusion as me – this was freight train versus model train. This fight took place at PRIDE Shockwave 2005, on New Year’s eve, less than a year before PRIDE went defunct. Without knowing this fight existed, we can look at those two names and see a discrepancy. One is recognized as one of the greatest MMA fighters to ever live, and the other is an obscure Brazilian name that only the most hardcore fans of MMA would know. By this time Fedor was 11-0 in PRIDE, the PRIDE Heavyweight Champion with two title defenses, and had semi-recently won the PRIDE Heavyweight Grand Prix, and defended his belt against Mirko Cro Cop. On the other hand, Zulu was coming off a win over Henry Miller (???), which was his only fight in PRIDE. With all of his fights together, he was just 5-0, with all of his wins coming over unknown or virtually unknown opponents. I couldn’t find any of his fight footage on YouTube, but based on his win over Henry Miller (???), it’s likely his other fights went the same way, based on my perception of what low quality opponents they could find for him in the Brazilian regionals. Being that the man is 6’ 7’’, 341 pounds at the time of the fight, he had a full 7 inch, and 100 pound size advantage. Size doesn’t matter when your opponent is the pound-for-pound best fighter in the world.

    After watching his brother Aleksander submit debuting fighter Pawel Nastula, Fedor was ready to walk to the ring. There was no reference to the gigantic mismatch anywhere in PRIDE promotional material – only a comment about a potential “shockwave” sent to the MMA community if Zulu were to win, which was given a response of “that’s not gonna happen, Fedor is going to dispatch this man very quickly” by PRIDE commentator (and fighter) Frank Trigg. Both men move to the center of the ring and Fedor starts with a series of hip feints, Fedor hits Zulu with a right hand that hits his chest, and uncorks an unearthly left hook that drops him, covering an incredible amount of distance. After a few follow up punches and a soccer kick to the ribs, Zulu is able to stand up. But before he can completely do that, Fedor is already loading up, and smashes into him with a flying right hand, like he’s playing a violent game of whack-a-mole. Zulu crashes to the floor again, his momentum only stopped by the canvas below, shaking and fluttering under his weight. Fedor tosses his legs aside like a bone he just licked clean, and finishes him off like a ravenous beast, lacerating his pounding flesh until Zulu yields to Fedor’s superiority.

    This 22 second video is the entire fight. Surprisingly, Zuluzinho’s dad is a legend in Brazil, whose name is Casimiro de Nascimento Martins, and is known as Rei Zulu. Rei was born in 1947 and in contrast to his overblown son, Rei had more of a chiseled physique. According to Brazilian legend, Zulu travelled around Brazil looking for fights. He is alleged to have had over 100 Vale Tudo fights, training in a style called “tarraca”, a northeastern Brazil form of folk wrestling. If you look at his record he is officially 2-7 in combat sports, showing his debut to be against Rickson Gracie in 1980. By this time he was already 33, and had fought dozens of times before (allegedly). Rickson submitted him twice and Zulu even fought Ebenezer Fontes Braga and Enson Inoue in the 1990s, when he was in his 50s.

    For his son Zuluzinho, he wouldn’t become as notable, and his MMA record currently sits at 14-12, with his last fight being a loss in 2022. After his loss to Fedor he would go on to become winless in the remainder of his PRIDE run, falling to Big Nog (give the guy a break), and Butterbean. You could argue he wasn’t given a fair chance in PRIDE, being thrown in against Fedor, and then another one of the greatest heavyweights in history, Nogueira. It’s kind of nuts when you think about it but they did give him Butterbean, which was a much better matchup for him, and a fight he could have won if he was to be in the big show. That didn’t pan out and it just goes to show how many levels there are in fighting, and why some fights just shouldn’t be made.

    The Master's avatar
  • The Uncrowned Phenom | Vitor Belfort | 2009 to 2015

    The Uncrowned Phenom | Vitor Belfort | 2009 to 2015

    Return To The UFC

    After Vitor Belfort’s absolute annihilation of Matt Lindland in January of 2009, we would never see him compete outside of the UFC again. For the last four years, Belfort fought in PRIDE, Strikeforce, and even won a world title in Cage Rage – not having competed in the UFC since he faced Tito Ortiz at UFC 51 in February of 2005. That didn’t seem to matter to Belfort, as he appeared as confident and excited as ever. He was fighting Rich Franklin – a former champion and beloved fan favorite. Rich was a few years removed from his championship run at middleweight, but his age and experience would deceive you at first glance. At that point the only losses he had in his ten-plus year career were Lyoto Machida (former champion), Anderson Silva (we all know), and Dan Henderson (former PRIDE and Strikeforce champion). Even then a lot of people (including myself) thought Franklin beat Hendo. Given that Belfort was looking better than he ever had before, this was a big test to see if he would be a contender in the UFC, and for Rich, it was a big test in seeing if he could rise back up the ranks and make another title run. Although Franklin had a long run by then, these two were still close in age and tenure, with Belfort being 32, and Rich being 34. The matchup took place as the main event of UFC 103, which was originally supposed to be Rich Franklin vs. Dan Henderson II, but fans convinced the UFC that they didn’t want to see a rematch of the fight they just saw earlier that year. The two fighters (Vitor and Rich) agreed this bout would be at a catchweight of 195 pounds, as both of them competed at both 205 and 185, feeling their best in between. I remember when this fight was announced I was excited, but being a fan of both guys, I didn’t want to see either of them lose. But I knew if Franklin won it would spoil Belfort’s title hopes, and being that Rich was already the champion, I wanted to see Vitor get that chance. Plus, I REALLY saw Belfort as a huge threat to Anderson Silva (hehe), and I wanted to see that fight badly. 

    Image courtesy of Neil Davidson for The Globe and Mail

    Event: UFC 103 | September 19, 2009

    Record Before Fight: 18-8

    Opponent: Rich Franklin 

    Opponent’s Ranking: 7 (Light Heavyweight – 205 lbs)

    Result: Win // KO (Punches)

    Score: 4 points

    I will say that in this fight, Rich Franklin looked uncharacteristically nervous. That’s not to say he’d never had nerves before but you can tell during the glove touch and when the opening bell rings, that Rich is a little off. Once they start feeling each other out it becomes clear that Rich is being cautious because of Vitor’s power, at a few points even becoming noncommittal in his strikes. Two and a half minutes in, Rich whiffs on a right hook and Vitor shows his right, and sort of paws it out there. This causes Franklin to pull back right away. Rich then throws an overhand left, which Vitor easily avoids, and Rich retracts quickly, wary of the counter. Belfort, looking as calm as ever, begins to stalk his prey. They both jab at the same time but Belfort ducks under the one aimed at his head, and lands his own. In the same motion he follows up with a rear uppercut and right hook, both of which graze Franklin’s chin. Vitor feels he is getting close and in an instant, he throws another jab and a left overhand/hook hybrid punch. The angle starts on a downward slope like an overhand, then he swings it around in a circular motion, finishing the technique like a wide hook. What’s crazy about this punch is that it seems to barely graze the back of Franklin’s right temple, towards the back of his head, sort of in the spot where you would let your over-ear headphones rest momentarily if you took them off your ears. When the punch landed Franklin was looking for a lead hook of his own, but barely engaged his shoulder. Vitor Belfort knocks out Rich Franklin in the first round, three minutes in. To me the speed advantage for Belfort was stark, and much more evident than I would have ever imagined. I knew that Vitor had super fast hands and Rich was never known to be particularly fast or explosive, but still, the difference was staggering. 

    The Spider’s web

    Let’s go over a bit of timeline here. Since April 2007, Vitor has put together a 5 fight win streak, with wins over Serati, James Zikic, Martin, Lindland, and now Franklin. The Cage Rage fights notwithstanding, and particularly the last two wins, make it a good run, with definitive results in each. After Belfort knocked out Rich Franklin, I really felt like he was the man to get the job done against Anderson Silva. At the time I strongly disliked Anderson for beating all of the guys I was a fan of (as is the case with most champions who beat all of my favorite fighters), and making them look stupid. But, everything I saw in Belfort’s fights made me believe he would be the one to give Anderson a true challenge. Considering Belfort was a Brazilian Jiu Jitsu black belt, I wasn’t worried about him on the ground, especially given that he had much improved wrestling and top game, something well known to be a weakness of Silva’s. Belfort’s striking looked as good as it ever had, and he had developed a sniper-like style, where he calmly pressured his opponents, avoided whatever they threw, got their timing, and landed whatever shots he wanted. By this point in his career Vitor was known for his vicious countering almost as well as he was known for his blitzing during his early career, and it really made guys freeze in there, not knowing what would be coming back their way if they were aggressive against him. On top of that he matched up well against Anderson stylistically, bringing a more straightforward, pressure-based boxing approach, versus Anderson’s more Muay-Thai-meets-Traditional-Martial-Arts style, which in my head worked to Belfort’s advantage, and it helped that I was still in denial about the pure skill level of The Spider. After Belfort’s win over Rich, he finally faced Anderson Silva at UFC 126 in February of 2011. He was a slight underdog and was seen by a lot of fans as the striking equivalent of Sonnen, not in the sense that he would dominate, but that he would really push Anderson. Well that didn’t happen. Three minutes into the fight and really before a single exchange, Anderson front kicked Belfort in the chin, creating not just one of the most unique knockouts in the UFC, but one of the most legendary and iconic moments in the history of MMA. This was obviously a brutal setback for Belfort, and he had his sights set on becoming the UFC MIddleweight Champion, but the sorrow didn’t last long, as he returned six months later against Yoshihiro Akiyama and provided fans another first round knockout. This was followed by a win over a blown up Anthony Johnson, another first round finish. Vitor Belfort was scheduled to fight Alan Belcher at UFC 153 in October of 2012 and he was training for that fight when he got a call from the UFC brass, asking if he could step in at UFC 152, a month earlier then his scheduled matchup, to fill in for Lyoto Machida in a championship fight. That fight was against none other than Jon Jones, at 205 pounds, and Belfort accepted. After putting Jones in the most trouble he had been in with an armbar in the first round, Jon largely dominated Belfort for the remainder of the fight, taking him down and punishing him, and eventually finishing him with a kimura in the fourth round.

    Elephant In The Room

    Now here’s where shit gets weird. I’m not going to go into complete details about this but I feel anyone who has been a fan of the sport for at least 15 years will know exactly what I mean when I say “the elephant in the room”. When it comes to Vitor Belfort, this elephant is fully grown, and isn’t going anywhere until we address it. Over the years this phrase has turned into a way to define his career, completely dwarfing (and ultimately adding onto) the existing framing of his fight story. In September of 2012, a few weeks before Vitor stepped in to face Jones, the UFC accidentally sent out an email to a group of UFC affiliates (fighters, managers, and others) containing the results of Vitor Belfort’s most recent blood test results. Huge mistake, right? Despite their best efforts to mitigate this error and pretend like it didn’t happen, it still happened, and soon this document spread like wildfire, revealing the elevated testosterone levels inside of Belfort’s blood. If you want to read more about this, there’s a good article from Deadspin here. Five months after his loss to Jon Jones, it was made known that Vitor Belfort received a TUE for the fight, which stands for Therapeutic Use Exemption. This meant that due to low testosterone levels, Vitor was allowed to take synthetic testosterone (TRT) to bring his body back within a “normal” range of production. From an ethical standpoint, Belfort shouldn’t have been allowed to fight Jones, yet three weeks after this blood test, he was competing for a world title. With the Jones fight behind him, escaping the questions and controversy surrounding his TRT use, Belfort went to Brazil and knocked out his next three opponents, all in Brazil, all while using TRT approved by the Brazilian Commission. Vitor Belfort wasn’t the only fighter who received TUE’s or used TRT legally, but he was the most criticized for it, and I believe it’s because of the way he outright annihilated Michael Bisping, Luke Rockhold and Dan Henderson, securing himself a title shot against Chris Weidman at middleweight (who HATED that Belfort got the shot). Do I believe that Vitor Belfort was using a legal system to abuse TRT, in order to gain an unfair advantage? I do, but that’s not what this article is about. Don’t worry Vitor, I’m still a big fan. As for you, the person reading this, you can make that decision for yourself. 

    Don’t Look Back

    Let’s get back to why we’re here. With the Jones fight in his rearview mirror, Belfort sought redemption at what he felt was his optimal weight class, middleweight. Never one to revel in a loss or agony, Vitor turned around to face number 7 ranked Michael Bisping. Belfort went in with a renewed vigor and confidence, looking to pick up where he left off against Akiyama and Rumble. Believe it or not the odds were close to dead even in this matchup. It seems surprising at first given Belfort’s resume and Bisping’s tendency to be underrated, but with Vitor coming off a loss where he was dominated, and Bisping having been on quite the run with the exception of his loss to Sonnen, it was enough to even the score between the two of them.

    Image courtesy of Sportsnet

    Event: UFC on FX 7 | January 19, 2013

    Record Before Fight: 21-10

    Opponent: Michael Bisping

    Opponent’s Ranking: 7 (Middleweight – 185 lbs)

    Result: Win // KO (Head kick and punches)

    Score: 4 points

    The first few minutes of this fight didn’t see a lot of action, with Bisping controlling the pace, landing some low kicks and a few good jabs. About two minutes in, we see Belfort trying to time Bisping’s jab with a 1-2 of his own, missing on his left cross the first few times. Bisping notices this and starts using his right hand more, and Belfort responds. He slips a right hand and simultaneously gets a collar tie with his lead hand, blasting Bisping with a rear uppercut. Bisping starts feinting the jab and gets back to the low kicks, and Belfort responds with a few rear middle kicks, followed by an overhand left. In the closing seconds of the round Belfort feints the overhand left, gets Bisping to duck, and slams in a high kick. This wobbles Bisping but doesn’t come close to finishing him, as Belfort stalks him for several seconds. That round was more tactical than I remembered, with both fighters making adjustments multiple times. Close round but the final seconds probably gives it to Vitor. Bisping opens the second with more low kicks, as Vitor is still looking for his hands, but landing some body kicks. Less than two minutes into the round Vitor lands a rear high kick that puts Bisping down, and he finishes the job. There were two different setups for that high kick for those paying attention. In the first round it was the overhand left (accentuating the feint by lowering his hips and shoulder just enough). In the second round it was landing the middle (body) kick that Bisping didn’t seem to have an answer for. Belfort feinted to the body and went to the head. Another knockout finish. 

    The Streak Continues

    After head kicking Bisping, Belfort was ready for his next challenge. In January of 2013, then Zuffa-led Strikeforce, announced that “Strikeforce: Marquardt vs. Saffiedine” would be their final event, and decisions would soon be made on which fighters would be coming over to the UFC. One such fighter was Luke Rockhold, which was a no-brainer, because he was the reigning Strikeforce Middleweight Champion, ready to come into the UFC and beat whoever he needed to, keeping his Strikeforce belt warm while in pursuit of his own UFC gold. Leading up to the fight Luke said he wanted to “give Vitor his respect”, acknowledging that he has gotten sloppy in the past due to his overconfidence against other strikers. He even alluded to using his roots to potentially taking Vitor down and beating him there. When asked about Vitor’s TRT usage, Luke took a stance against it, but during fight week, he moved forward, assuring the media that all he cared about was the fight, and wasn’t thinking about Vitor’s testosterone levels. When Belfort himself was asked about it in the pre-fight presser, he said he was doing everything legally, and that “TRT doesn’t win fights”. Vitor adds that not only does it not win fights, but that a lot of people that are using, are losing (teehee). Which was true, at the time he was one of only two fighters who hadn’t lost since starting TRT usage. Either way Belfort saw Rockhold as a stepping stone to another title shot, and treated him as such in their fight. When this fight happened it was a big deal because Strikeforce (like PRIDE) was seen as having some of the best fighters in the world, along with the UFC. Not only was this a way to test that theory, it was also an exciting debut for a fighter who was on a 9 fight winning streak, against the most dangerous version of a UFC veteran who had fought for a title multiple times before. The odds for this fight were about even going in, reflecting the respect the oddsmakers had for Rockhold and his “legitsu”.

    Image courtesy of Zuffa LLC

    Event: UFC on FX 8 | May 18, 2013

    Record Before Fight: 22-10

    Opponent: Luke Rockhold

    Opponent’s Ranking: 5 (Middleweight – 185 lbs)

    Result: Win // KO (Spinning heel kick and punches)

    Score: 6 points

    No glove touch accompanied by a roaring crowd got this one started. The first minute sees a lot of moving around, and an uncharacteristic, diving shot from Luke Rockhold. In my eyes this gave Belfort confidence not just from defending the shot itself, but from the fact that Rockhold even shot it at all. This action makes Luke’s intentions clear: Take Vitor down and pound on his face. Rockhold did a good job of leading with his right side kicks, and Vitor showed hands when Luke decided to close the distance instead. Rockhold never being one to back down from a fight, he continued peppering Belfort’s lead leg, and held strong in the center. Less than three minutes in, Belfort landed a spinning heel kick, with the crowd being the only thing louder than his thunderous follow up shots. You can see Luke bring up his rear hand and as the kick lands, almost had his lead hand over for a double block. Based on his reaction it seemed like he thought it was going to the body but instead went to the head, and BANG.

    What goes up, must come down

    The Dan Henderson that Vitor Belfort fought at PRIDE 32 was not quite the Hendo of legend that developed over the following decade and yet, the Hendo he would be fighting at UFC Fight Night 32 was not quite that guy either. Having failed in two attempts to become a UFC champion at both middleweight and light heavyweight, Hendo was aging, and was coming off 2 losses (albeit close fights) when he faced arguably the most dangerous Vitor Belfort there ever was. Belfort of course, coming off two knockouts now, was more confident than ever, and ready for the challenge of not just securing a title shot against Chris Weidman, but redemption for his loss against Hendo 7 years prior. Henderson told the media he wanted this fight to look largely like their first fight in 2006, but he wanted a finish instead.

    Image courtesy of Josh Hedges for Zuffa LLC

    Event: UFC Fight Night 32 | November 9, 2013

    Record Before Fight: 23-10

    Opponent: Dan Henderson

    Opponent’s Ranking: 9 (Light Heavyweight – 205 lbs)

    Result: Win // KO (Head kick)

    Score: 4 points

    With Vitor Belfort having morphed into a TRT monster, his stance looked unusually low in the opening moments, perhaps because he was expecting a takedown from Henderson. In the first minute Dan threw 2 noncommittal right hands and landed one but as he closed the distance, ended up just inches away from Vitor, standing squarely, and walked into a left uppercut that reeled him backwards, onto his back. Dan immediately tried to recover full guard as Belfort pounded away. Hendo threatened an armbar briefly and this allowed him to slowly work his way back up, all the while getting mauled, narrowly escaping to his feet. The fact that none of these shots put him out is a testament to his chin and toughness. But it wouldn’t last for long because as soon as he stood straight up, Vitor landed a left high kick that made a vertical thing become horizontal. What goes up must come down.

    The Rubber Match

    We have arrived at Belfort’s third title shot in the modern era of the UFC, and the window of opportunity for the ultimate glory of becoming a UFC champion is closing fast. There is a caveat here: In February of 2014, NSAC banned the use of TRT for athletes competing within their jurisdiction. This soon spread like fire across the United States commissions, with the UFC enthusiastically in agreeance, vowing to regulate their own international events to ensure fair contests in the absence of a state regulatory body. Vitor’s fight against the UFC Middleweight Champion came a full 15 months following the ban of TRT, so he was no longer using synthetic testosterone. I personally believe Belfort had a massive challenge ahead of him even if he was on TRT, against a guy as good as Chris Weidman, who had the confidence of somebody who had just dismantled the middleweight GOAT twice, and was coming off a pretty dominant win over Lyoto Machida. Vitor was a decent sized underdog against Weidman, showing just how dominant the champ had been. Vitor had some good success early, avoiding a couple of takedowns and getting a collar tie, landing some really hard uppercuts and hooks in close. Chris ate all of it and kept the pressure on, even blocked a head kick (but still kind of ate it), and eventually took Vitor down with perfect timing. After landing thunder on Vitor for a full 45 seconds, the fight was stopped. And with that, Belfort’s title aspirations were finished. I think it’s fair to say that when you match up their skill sets, this was always going to be a bad matchup for Belfort, and his best chance was to land something early. He always struggled against elite wrestlers, and Weidman was very competent on the feet, and was able to get the fight where he wanted it. 

    Image courtesy of MMA Fighting

    Event: UFC Fight Night 77 | November 7, 2015

    Record Before Fight: 24-11

    Opponent: Dan Henderson

    Opponent’s Ranking: 10 (Light Heavyweight – 205 lbs)

    Result: Win // KO (punches)

    After Vitor and Dan fought for the second time in November of 2013, Dan had gone 2-2 with wins over Shogun and Tim Boetsch, equally as dangerous as he was vulnerable to losing against younger fighters this late into his career. He was 45, and facing Vitor again, who was 7 years younger, and had just beat him 2 years prior. This was seen as a clash of legends without any title or ranking implications, and it saw Vitor as a sizeable favorite, based on the results of their last fight, and most likely the age of Henderson. A lot of fans were picking Vitor but amongst fighters it was more split, with more people thinking Hendo’s power would be the difference. With both possessing ungodly power, both guys looked tentative early on. Two minutes into the first round, Belfort timed Hendo’s footwork as he circled away from Vitor’s left hand, giving him the exact angle he needed to land a left high kick. Hendo tried to duck under it, and block it at the same time, but neither would keep him vertical. This time Belfort didn’t need a lot of follow up shots as Yamasaki stepped in pretty quickly. This would be the last ranked win of his career, as he would go 1-4 in his final five fights, and retire from the sport of MMA after his loss to Lyoto Machida. 

    Uncrowned King: By The Numbers

    Total Ranked Wins: 9

    Total Ranked Opponents: 21

    Total Fights: 41

    Total Points: 35

    The Adoptive Son, The Man, The Fighter

    There is no way I was doing this series without including Vitor Belfort, one of my all time favorite guys to watch, and one that got me excited about the sport in the mid 2000s. Not many fighters rose to prominence in MMA as quickly as he did, and not many were spoken of as highly, irrelative to their accomplishments in their given sport. Vitor Belfort came into fighting as a prodigy of Carlson Gracie, a title only bestowed upon those deserving of walking in the enormous footprints carved into the foundation of MMA by the Gracie family, and specifically filling the shoes crafted by his “adoptive father” Carlson Gracie. Belfort wasn’t just training under a Gracie, but under one who actively preached and encouraged cross-training, and opened up one of the first MMA academies in the early 1990s. This team, formed in West Hollywood, would be the foundation for some of the legendary teams we hear in MMA: American Top Team, Brazilian Top Team, Nova Uniao, and Black House. The fact that these were all founded by Carlson Gracie black belts shows you the level of skill on those mats during the early days. From this environment Belfort was spawned, and won the Brazilian National Jiu Jitsu championships at the age of 17, in both the heavyweight and absolute divisions. He also won bronze at ADCC in 2001, a year before he won his UFC title. From the beginning he was destined for great things, and great things he achieved, and yet the greatness we witnessed, still left us unfulfilled. Perhaps due to the pressure of being the golden boy in the gym or having 38 cornermen throughout his early career, Belfort didn’t quite live up to the expectations those early days set up for him. Although we saw Vitor struggle with Randy at UFC 15, we all thought Belfort would be all the better for it, and to be fair, we were right. We just weren’t right to the extent that we thought we would be. It elevated his game but it made him a different fighter, as he no longer had the confidence of “Victor Gracie”. Not due to any lack of effort or skill, once he lost that aura, he didn’t believe in himself the way he kept believing in his power. This was evident in the way he often fought, looking to take his opponents out in the first round, with his chances of winning diminishing as the rounds wore on. He proved he was durable and tough in his fights against Chuck Liddell, Overeem and Tito, but that same toughness didn’t present itself ubiquitously throughout the years, as well as the desire to win. I think Vitor Belfort will be remembered for his destructive power and explosiveness, willingness to fight the best, and longevity in a sport full of brain damage and bankruptcy. I can’t stress just how much pressure was on Vitor, with some expressing he could go on to be one of the greats in the sport, and they weren’t necessarily wrong, just not quite right. Not to mention he had to uphold the reputation of the mighty Gracies, having his every move gazed upon by wandering eyes. Ultimately I think he was in his absolute peak mentally and physically going into the Anderson Silva fight. To me, I saw a calmness and confidence that I had yet to see from him. The confidence of 1997 Belfort with the skills and experience of the man who knocked out Rich Franklin and Matt Lindland. I will never forget that front kick, as my soul briefly left my body that night, and I believe it’s the night Belfort’s title dreams ended, regardless of the last two times he fought for a belt. Regardless, he fought the best fighters of three generations, beat a lot of them, and knocked some of them seemingly dead. He gave us countless transformations, and some of the most memorable knockouts in modern MMA history. Immortalized you are, Phenom. 

    References

    1. Tapology. “Vitor Belfort (‘The Phenom’): MMA Fighter Page.” Tapology, www.tapology.com/fightcenter/fighters/vitor-belfort-the-phenom. Accessed 14 Apr. 2025.
    2. ShinSplints. “TRT Not Winning Fights in UFC.” Bloody Elbow, 30 June 2013, bloodyelbow.com/2013/06/30/trt-tesosterone-replacement-losing-record-ufc/.
    3. Nswix. “Vitor Belfort.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 7 Apr. 2025, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vitor_Belfort.

    *All fight footage used to write this article is copyrighted and owned by Endeavor Group Holdings Inc.

  • Unique Technique | Karo Parisyan and The Art Of Judo

    Unique Technique | Karo Parisyan and The Art Of Judo

    That’s Judo! If you go back and watch Karo Parisyan’s fights, this is a word you will hear about 7 times per round. When he hit the scene in the early 2000s, Judo was not well-represented on the North American MMA scene. In terms of cage fighting, US fans dismissed this art as limited and didn’t see it as useful. Karo Parisyan was born in Armenia, and immigrated to America when he was six years old, in 1988. At the age of nine, he started training in Northern Hollywood under Gokor Chivichyan and Gene LeBell, who developed the Hayastan Grappling System. Between 2000 and 2003, Karo competed at the junior national level, winning 10 titles across the US and Canada. Five of those were gold medals. Karo made his MMA debut in 1999 and competed throughout the time he was winning Judo championships, getting his call from the UFC in 2003. Karo has stated that his interest in MMA always came second to Judo, only fighting to keep himself busy when he wasn’t competing in the former. Going to the Olympics was his dream and he competed in the 2004 Olympic Trials, but fell short of his goal. Thus, he continued his fighting career. Although he didn’t win a UFC title, he became the WEC welterweight champion, and went on to have a very successful career in multiple organizations. Karo became a sort of pioneer for Judo in MMA, and is now remembered for the uniqueness of his style, the Judo skill he displayed, and memorability of his fights. On top of that, he had quite the explosive personality, dividing fans and critics, but always spoke from his heart, and I appreciate that part of who he is. He was often humorous in his post-fight interviews, once even singing about himself to the tune of the US National Anthem from Borat, after his win over Josh Burkman.

    The natural Joe Rogan response of “You’re singing sucks, but you’re a fantastic fighter” couldn’t have been more fitting. In terms of Karo’s Judo, I am not an expert so I will just talk about some of the techniques he used, and show you what made him exciting to watch. He quickly compiled a 5-0 record as a professional in less than a year. By the time he got the call from the UFC he was 9-2 overall, with his only losses coming to the future UFC champion Sean Sherk. He debuted at UFC 44 against Dave Strasser, who was an experienced and well respected fighter. Here he is utilizing a Seoi Otoshi or “shoulder drop”. He drops to his knees and pulls Strasser by his arm and shoulder, flipping Strasser over his back. 

    Here is a Harai Makikomi, which is a hip throw. He uses Strasser’s own forward motion against him, locking in a kimura grip to control his upper body.

    He finishes the fight in the second round by using a Hikikomi Gaeshi, or “pulling in sacrifice throw”. This results in Strasser being flipped by Karo’s right foot, and since Parisyan already had a kimura lock, Strasser fell right into the submission and was forced to tap.

    He was also able to pull this off against a debuting GSP and almost achieved a straight armbar. It turns out GSP was already freakishly strong in his early days, and he wiggled out.

    He would lose to future all-time great GSP. After a 5-1 run in the UFC, he faced Diego Sanchez, who famously said “he won’t be able to take me down with any of that judo crap”. Karo was a small favorite over Sanchez, who came in undefeated in his MMA career, and held a strong wrestling base. Well he did take Diego down with his “judo crap”, but the fight turned out to be one for the ages. Two minutes into the fight, Karo showed us an Ouchi Gari, or “large inner reap”: 

    After Diego proved tough to keep down, the two clinched a bit. That’s when Karo hit a Harai Goshi, using his arm to control upper body, his leg to sweep Diego’s own, and his hips to flip him forward:

    When both guys neutralized each other on the ground, they went to war on the feet, before Parisyan took Diego down again:

    This time Parisyan used a Sukui Nage, or “scooping throw”. Diego would prove to be too skilled to be here for long, as he reversed the position and ended the fight on top raining down heavy shots. Sanchez would go on to win a unanimous decision. 

    Karo Parisyan wasn’t just skilled in the Judo department, although it was his strength. He never hesitated to throw heavy shots and engage in war on the feet. He threw a mean overhand right, often throwing it to close distance, or throwing it upon exiting the clinch. He even used his right hand to feint an overhand, then using it for an underhook to get a throw or set one up. He launched strikes with complete impunity, knowing that if he got taken down, he had plenty of weapons there too. Karo was a complete grappler, and had an understanding of Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and ground positioning. He often transitioned between the two, adding in punches, elbows, and submission attempts. 

    Here’s Karo hitting an Ippon Seoi Nage on fellow Judo practitioner Dong Hyun Kim at UFC 94:

    The Ippon Seoi Nage is a throwing technique. We see Karo use both hands here to pick Stun Gun up by his right arm and throw him over his shoulder, landing on his back. 

    Here he is again using an Ashi Guruma. Karo presses the calf of his lead leg into Josh Burkman’s quadricep muscle, uses his upper body to rotate Burkman, simultaneously flipping him onto the canvas.

    Ninja shit. 

    When Karo faced Matt Serra at UFC 53, he exchanged strikes with Serra before catching a kick and taking him down. He lands heavy shots while postured up. Once Matt is able to get up, Karo follows, landing punches while trying to control his base (notice the slap Karo landed at 0:41 of the round). He then takes Serra’s back and transitioned to mount, all while raining down some serious ground and pound.

    I’d say this clip virtually sums up what the essence of prime Karo Parisyan brought to the table: 

    It’s a shame Karo was plagued by injuries throughout his career. The hamstring injury he sustained when training for a potential title fight with Matt Hughes was the beginning of the end for Parisyan at the top of the food chain, and he would start to decline after his loss to Thiago Alves in 2008. A lifetime of fighting and getting thrown on your head can shorten your body’s window for top level competition. Parisyan’s last fight in the UFC was at UFC 123, when he lost to Dennis Hallman by first round TKO in 2010. He continued to compete in MMA and after a loss to Jose Diaz in 2017 in a comeback fight, he retired for good. What I find most impressive about his skill set is his ability to implement Judo in his fights. Whether he was moving forward or backpedaling, clinching or striking, he found a way to make Judo work within the chaos of combat, at times seemingly at the most unlikely of moments. If you were fighting him, you were never safe, and always had to fight knowing you could get dumped on your head at any time. The chances are remote that we ever see a fighter like Karo Parisyan in MMA ever again.

    References

    Special shout outs to Sonny Brown, whose video on Karo Parisyan helped me write this article.

    1. Sonny Brown. “Judo Throws in MMA – A Study of Karo Parisyan”. YouTube, 2 October 2018, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n9odlO7y9Mg&ab_channel=SonnyBrown. Accessed 10 February 2025.

  • Time and Atmosphere: Low Kicks

    Time and Atmosphere: Low Kicks

    Legs. When you’re standing in front of somebody having a conversation or in line at your local supermarket, you see a pair of legs. Sometimes this person annoys you, and you’d like to take one of your own legs, and use it to smash one of theirs. Here is what a set of legs look like, in case you need a refresher:

    Locomotive in nature, human legs are also referred to as lower extremities, as they are half of our entire bodies. These limbs allow us to stand, walk, run, swim, jump, skip, and even hang upside down from trees. Given that these lower limbs are pivotal for the support of our upper body and upright movement, damage to legs can make moving around quite troubling. Since the point of combat is to damage your opponent, it’s only natural that human legs would be a huge target of attack for fighters. That’s where low kicks come in. Today, we will be talking specifically about the history of Dutch low kicks.

    It’s incredibly difficult to pin down exactly when the first low kick was introduced, given that the first illustrations depicting martial arts are estimated to go as far back as 3000 BC. However, the first known mention of a low kick that I can find is in the epic story of The Odyssey – written by Homer in the 7th century BC. It is estimated to be authored between 700-750 BC. Page 228 of the English version reads:

    “With that he passed by, and as he did so the fool landed a kick on Odysseus’ hip”[12]

    We obviously don’t know the exact technique Homer is talking about here, and we also don’t know if was just a matter of kicking Odysseus’ hip like you would if you wanted to get your little brother off of you. Whether or not this kick has anything to do with martial arts, this time in Greek history happens to be right around the time of the development of a combat system known as Pankration. This system is thought to have been founded around 700 BC, and it was introduced into the Greek Olympic Games in 648 BC[20]. This discipline had the hallmarks of modern arts we see today – punches, kicks, grappling and wrestling techniques. It was also used by Greek soldiers when they didn’t have weapons and had to engage in hand to hand combat[20]. These techniques have been described and depicted in art such as literature, illustrations, and statues. One such example proves relevance to this article –  an image of a man shown throwing a “front low kick”, estimated to be from the Archaic Period, which is between 800 BC and 480 BC:

    A Panathenaic amphorae (ceramic vase) depicting a man catching another man’s low kick, circa 500 BC

    This was over 2,000 years ago. The low kick you see being depicted in this statue isn’t one we are used to seeing today, as it aims to strike with the heel of the foot into the area of the quadricep, right below the hip. The purpose of a low kick is to do damage, disrupt rhythm, and limit mobility. What kind of low kicks do we (primarily) see now? Well, that’s what we’re here to discuss. In order to understand how this technique ended up in dojos and on televisions all over the world, we need to explore some of the history surrounding it. 

    Let’s fast forward to 1960s Japan. This was 60 short years ago and the country was a martial arts hub. Karate, Judo, Boxing, Professional Wrestling, and Sumo were all part of Japanese culture at this time, with room to grow. During the late 1960s, there was a Kyokushin Karate black belt named Kenji Kurosaki, who started developing his own style of Kyokushin, combining the techniques of traditional martial arts with the tactics and philosophies of Muay Thai. Here’s a quote from the previous article I wrote, entitled: “Joe Lewis: A Fighter Evolved”:

    “This was happening at a time in Brazil where some Martial Artists like Marco Ruas decided crosstraining was a good idea – parallel thinking by some of the great minds of Martial Arts.”

    In this quote I was referring to a phenomenon occurring throughout the 1960s and 1970s where martial artists were branching out and expanding their ideas on styles, techniques, practices, and philosophies. This shift was challenging the conventional ways of thinking that dominated martial arts for centuries. A lot of these changes were taking place because of individual martial artists and their ideas of what “combat” should look like – shaped by their upbringing, geographic culture, fellow martial artists, their own individuality, and other factors. Kenji Kurosaki was a black belt in Kyokushin Karate. Now reading the words “Kyokushin Karate” may make you visualize two guys in a karate gi breaking boards, making various hand gestures, and yelling “Osu!”. While that may be part of the discipline, Kyokushin actually differs from most other Japanese Karate forms, in that it puts a greater focus on more realistic fighting. It can be characterized by its aggression, hard sparring, and the importance of damaging an opponent. Most Karate styles consisted of light contact, but Kyokushin allowed full contact strikes in sparring. That simply wasn’t enough for Kurosaki, and he began to pull away from his sensei (Masutatsu Oyama, founder of Kyokushin Karate) in the late 1960s. So what made Kenji Kurosaki want to develop his own subsect of Kyokushin, instead of continuing to practice what he knew? 

    Into Oblivion

    In 1964, Kenji Kurosaki and two other Karatekas were invited to take part in a fighting challenge against three Thai fighters[6]. This challenge would involve these three martial artists flying to Thailand, and competing against three Nak Muays – all under Thai rules. The other two Karate fighters were Tadashi Nakamura and Akio Fujihira[7]. These two won their fights, respectively, with Kenji being the only loser in the bunch, falling to Rawee Dechachai by an elbow strike[7]. Kenji would see very little success in the fight, only scoring anything significant when Rawee got close enough, and he was able to throw him (which was legal under the ruleset). Rawee’s pressure proved to be too much for Kenji to handle. He landed a lot of low kicks, elbows and middle kicks, until he eventually landed the elbow that finished the job[3]. Disappointed with the loss but determined to learn from it, Kenji Kurosaki was inspired by his own experience in the ring, and vowed to create a style that held up better under pressure, and in different environments. Despite this personal goal, Kurosaki traveled to Hawaii and the Netherlands to help his sensei spread Kyokushin Karate across the world[6]. But, Kurosaki’s loyalty to Masutatsu Oyama would eventually come to an end. Although Kyokushin was closer to real combat than most other Japanese forms, Masutatsu Oyama insisted that practice still be performed bare fist, which meant no punches directly to the head were allowed[6]. Contradictory to Oyama’s own philosophy about Kyokushin being closer to street fighting, Kurosaki saw Oyama’s rule for what it was. Kurosaki subsequently left Oyama dojo in 1969 and started his own academy, eventually named “Mejiro Gym” (Mejiro being the district of Japan it was located in) in the same year[6]. It was here that Kurosaki developed the style that would come to be known as “Japanese Kickboxing”. He trained Toshio Fujiwara (who became the first Japanese “Kickboxer”) and Jan Plas (an important Dutchmen we will talk about soon), and created a lineage of insurmountable significance. 

    Japanese Kickboxing

    Now, what exactly is Japanese Kickboxing, and how did it differ from Kyokushin or Muay Thai? Well, it’s easy to conceptualize. The easiest way to think about it is to describe it as Kyokushin Karate with elements of boxing and Muay Thai, with a greater emphasis on damage and practical fighting application. Imagine a fighter with the technique variety and footwork of a karateka, the hand combinations of a boxer, and the speed, power and fluidity of a Muay thai fighter. Now this is how Japanese kickboxing got started and is the general framework, but it goes without saying that there are different ways to blend arts together. To illustrate this, here’s Toshio Fujiwara, prodigy of Kenji Kurosaki and the Mejiro style:

    Fujiwara’s background in the Chinese martial art Taikiken gave him a unique base, which would be proven by the way he moved inside the ring. Fujiwara started training in 1969 under Kenji Kurosaki and learned the Mejiro style, making his kickboxing debut the same year[22]. Toshio would go on to win the AJKA (All Japan Kickboxing Association) championship in 1971, and become the first non-Thai fighter to win a Rajadamnern Stadium title in 1978[22]. Unlike most Karate fighters, he didn’t bounce on the balls of his feet. Rather, he moved more like an elite boxer, using a lot of lateral footwork. He used this movement to dart in and attack, then retreat quickly either by switching angles or moving straight back, to avoid counters. His left high kick was as fast as any I’ve seen, and he sometimes preceded it with a low kick using the same leg.  Fujiwara had a multitide of weapons with his hands as well, among them his right cross and leaping left (lead) hook. He often lept into his strikes and upon landing, would be in the opposite stance, firing more strikes before his opponent could respond or recover from what he just threw. Although he wasn’t known for combinations in the conventional sense, he mostly threw one strike at a time, targeting different areas of the body and never letting his opponent rest or reset. 

    Although Fujiwara had an incredibly unique style that will likely never be replicated, why are we talking about Japanese kickboxing? All styles of combat started somewhere and were taught to martial artists, who then passed it down through generations – transcending borders, language, and culture. Every student has a teacher, and every teacher has students. Simply put, every martial art has a lineage. Toshio Fujiwara may be a rare specimen when it comes to Japanese kickboxing, but his game still aligned with its principles. Those employing this particular style generally combine traditional martial arts techniques with high volume and speed, with an emphasis on footwork and defensive responsibility. These fighters blend punches and kicks together really well, and display a wide array of weapons, bringing in Karate techniques such as side kicks and spinning attacks. In the above video you’ll see Toshio throwing teeps and even using the Thai plum to slam knees into his opponent’s face, which both came from pure Muay Thai fighters (Nak Muays). Since a lot of Japanese kickboxers have traditional arts expertise, we also see a lot of boxing influence in their footwork and defensive movements. There is a long history of boxing in Japan, and in the 1960s and 1970s, Toshio looked up to guys like Muhammed Ali and Floyd Patterson. It’s easy to see why this style has become such an effective striking art, carving a path for fighters like Masato Kobayashi and Masaaki Satake. 

    Japanese Low Kicks (Mejiro)

    Let’s summarize: So far we’ve discussed a little history on Kyokushin Karate and how Japanese Karateka blended it with Muay Thai and boxing to create the unique stand-up style known as Japanese Kickboxing. We also covered what legs are. There’s one more thing that we haven’t circled back to: low kicks. Low kicks are one of my favorite techniques in all of combat. It is a joy watching a professional fighter limp back to their corner, after getting their legs brutalized. With low kicks having been part of global kickboxing for decades now, they are also ubiquitous inside the combat sport of MMA. Given that we surmise (without certainty) that low kicks originated at least 2,700 years ago, we know it has evolved. That lineage has traveled through time and atmosphere, making it all the way to the Japanese form of Goju-ryu Karate around 1930, which is what influenced Masutatsu Oyama to include low kicks in his Kyokushin curriculum. We are obviously skipping ahead thousands of years in the martial arts timeline. Now if you’re familiar with Kyokushin low kicks, low kicks of the Mejiro style are virtually the same, with small modifications. If you’ve ever watched Kyokushin sparring or fighting, you’ll know that the style is built for close range, pressure-based combat. These guys have some of the most well conditioned shins on planet earth, engineered and calibrated for leg to leg warfare. In terms of range, most of their kicks are exchanged at a distance much shorter than we are used to seeing MMA fighters use today. This allows them to keep the pressure on their opponent, remain inside the pocket, and keep firing away with their hands. When throwing a Mejiro style low kick in kickboxing or MMA, the goal is to land your middle to lower shin on your opponent’s lead leg. The target area is your opponent’s mid to upper thigh, closer to their buttocks. Landing too high would risk injuring your leg on their hip bone, and landing too low would be dangerously close to their kneecap. Throwing the kick at a closer range only requires a turning of your lead foot to get the right angle on the kick, whereas throwing at distance works better with a small step outward with the same foot, at a 45 degree angle, about the same angle you would be operating in with your kicking leg. The further you are from your opponent, the smaller the angle will be. In pure Kyokushin, when two combatants are exchange up close, the kicker takes a bigger step outward with their lead foot, and throws the kick at more of a horizontal angle, parallel to the floor. This is almost like a Thai style kick, but with the lead arm extended backwards, and the kick being straight instead at a downward, chopping angle. Part of the Kyokushin curriculum is being able to throw punches and kicks in combination, and these specialists do that really well. If you’ve ever watched two Kyokushin guys go at it under knockdown rules, you’ll know it’s high intensity. However, one thing we can observe about these fights is that while these guys do throw both punches and kicks in combination, they often do it in one of the following ways: 

    1. Charging forward and throwing hands, throwing a low kick, then resetting and attacking with hands again

    2. Throwing powerful low kicks (or other kicks) that require them to load up

    The observeration here being that although Kyokushin fighters are adept at using both punches and kicks, they are often open for counters by virtue of either requiring a reset before striking again, or being off balance and out of position. Kenji Kurosaki aimed to solve that. Although there was little technical difference between the pure Kyokushin low kick and the Mejiro one, Kurosaki used the technique differently both philosophically and and tactically. Whereas both the Thais and Kyokushin Karate fighters wanted to land low kicks with power and intention, Kurosaki believed they were more effective when one emphasized speed and efficiency. He reinforced this by teaching his students to “slap” these low kicks as opposed to slamming the shin into the thigh, turning the hips over just enough to land at an upward angle, and stepping right back into their natural stance. These modifications are more than likely due to his background in Kyokushin, his experience in Thailand, and personal beliefs about what a real fight would look like. He saw low kicks as one tool out of an entire toolbox, one that didn’t have to be a primary method of attack, and could be used in a variety of ways. Kenji Kurosaki saught to make these low kicks more adaptable to any fighting scenario, coming within the flow of a complete offense. Whether a fighter was using this technique to hurt his opponent or disrupt their rhythm, it would be effective. 

    Dutch Kickboxing

    The genesis of Dutch Kickboxing is a long and storied one but for this article, I will only cover the absolute basics, to provide an understanding of history and frame of reference to operate within. Remember Kenji Kurosaki’s first student and world champion, Toshio Fujiwara? Well by 1975, Fujiwara had transcended Japan’s existing conventions and expectations, having defended the All Japan Kickboxing Association title four times[22]. He had been the reigning champion since 1971, but often fought in Thailand due to limited fighting opportunities in Japan, and every so often travelled back home to defend his belt again[22]. That same year, near an event hall in Tokyo, Toshio would stumble across three important figures in Dutch martial arts: Jan Plas, Peter van den Hemmel, and Jan van Looijen[4]. These three were looking at advertisements for a kickboxing event on the side of a building, and just so happened to peek Fujiwara’s curiosity[4]. He asked where they were from and upon learning they were from Holland, Toshio asked them if they knew Jon Bluming (Plas’ Kyokushin instructor, black belt in Kyokushin, black belt in Judo)[4], to which they affirmed. Toshio invited them to watch a kickboxing event that evening[4] and then introduced the trio to Kenji Kurosaki, who as we know, is the founder of Mejiro style kickboxing. All three of them trained at Mejiro Gym in Tokyo the following morning and started learning from the master himself. Kenji taught the Dutchmen his style of low kick and had them kick truck tires, bats, and bags of sand to condition their shins. They also learned elbows, clinching and throwing (which are all part of Thai boxing). These three men were taught the entire system of Mejiro kickboxing – by the end of 1975, they had returned home to the Netherlands to pass down this knowledge to other martial artists. Jan Plas started teaching this style in an old boxing gym in the same year until opening his own standalone gym called Mejiro Gym Amsterdam, in 1978[8]. Jan Plas would take this time to develop and teach his own system of striking now known as Dutch Kickboxing (and inaccurately referred to as Dutch Muay Thai), and would make Mejiro Gym the launchpad and gold standard in kickboxing for years to come. This team built Dutch kickboxing world champions such as Rob Kaman, Peter Aerts, and the earliest, Lucien Carbin, who was a first generation (Dutch) Mejiro fighter[8]. Lucien was also a coach at Mejiro and trained Kaman himself, along with future kickboxing stars like Alistair Overeem and Tyrone Spong. Lucien Carbin was the first known combat practitioner of the style of Dutch Kickboxing, and was a national champion in the disciplines of Savate, Muay Thai, and Kyokushin Karate. Although there are stylistic differences between Japanese and Dutch kickboxing, we will only cover the essentials. Generally speaking the Dutch have a more pressure based style that aims to put punches and kicks together efficiently, with more of a focus on throwing long boxing combinations, punctuated by low kicks. These guys are aggressive, well-conditioned, and full of elite skills. Here is a world champion putting those combinations together:

    Rob Kaman vs. Lakchart Sor Prasartporn 2, 1985

    Dutch fighters generally use less evasive footwork and rely more on head movement and the Dutch guard, which is essentially a modified boxing guard. Because of their hard sparring and training, Dutch fighters are known for their durability and toughness, with a “take two to give one” attitude, and are always looking for the knockout. Rob Kaman used a lot more footwork and switched stances, whereas Peter Aerts may be the best visualization of the pure Dutch style. A lot of Dutch fighters use a bladed stance with a slight bend in the knees, like Ernesto Hoost. Both Ramon Dekkers and Peter Aerts are examples of guys that had more of an upright stance, like Thai fighters do. Like Kyokushin, Dutch kickboxing puts a heavy emphasis on attacking the body, with both kicks and punches. Remy Bonjasky is another fighter who embodies the pure Dutch style, stalking his opponents, with a high defensive guard, and adding in his array of flying knees and kicks. 

    Dutch Low Kicks

    When it comes to Dutch low kicks, the technique is the same as the Japanese style. The mechanics of the kick come from Kyokushin, and regardless of a fighter’s martial arts background, most Dutch fighters learn it, and use it. I’ll repeat the two primary ways in which this kick is thrown: the first is throwing at an upward angle, turning your lead foot outward. The kick lands at around a 45 degree angle, slapping above the knee. Like Masato:

    Masato Kobayashi vs. Genki Sudo, 2003

    The other way we see is at a near 90 degree angle – not quite a Thai style chopping kick, but more parallel to the ground. Like this:

    Rob Kaman vs. Blinky Rodriguez, 1982

    There are many fighters that employ both styles of low kicks, and some that also incorporate more Thai into it. Both the Dutch and Japanese style aim to keep their head back when they throw these kicks, as to not put a big target in range for an opponent to counter. Dutch low kicks find the perfect blend of Kyokushin and Japanese style – kicking at close range without being vulnerable to counters, and following up kicks with punches instead of retreating or angling out. Some Dutch fighters even use kicks to close distance.

    Here is more of Rob Kaman, as he uses the low kick to get into range, then uses it again to exit.

    Rob Kaman vs. Lakchart Sor Prasartporn 2, 1985

    Here is the Lucien Carbin (one of Kaman’s coaches) throwing a low kick.

    Lucien Carbin vs. Asumu Inaba, 1981

    And of course, the Japanese pioneer Toshio Fujiwara throwing a mixture of horizontal and upward. 

    Toshio Fujiwara lands a whipping low kick circa late 1970s

    Toshio Fujiwara drops two opponents with low kicks
    a history of dominance

    Every fighter in this article has long been retired, and some have even passed away (Rest In Peace to Jan Plas, Ramon Dekkers, and Rob Kaman). But we are not so disconnected from these pioneers and champions. In fact, some of the most dominant fighting forces in the world are still using the Dutch style, and a LOT of combatants fighting in MMA today use the same method of low kicking. Nieky Holzken is a great example of the Dutch style in kickboxing. He’s a former GLORY world champion and tournament winner, and has been one of the wold’s best kickboxers for a long time.

    Nieky Holzken vs. Raymond Daniels at Glory 19 (2015)

    His kickboxing lineage would be Kenji Kurosaki >> Jon Bluming >> Cor Hemmers >> Nieky Holzken[1]

    Alistair Overeem is another Dutch fighter, having fought in both Kickboxing and MMA, and holds world championships in both. He comes from the same lineage, but took a different path.

    Alistair Overeem vs. Badr Hari, K-1 Dynamite (2008)

    His lineage would be Kenji Kurosaki >> Jan Plas >> Lucien Carbin >> Alistair Overeem[1]

    In MMA, we have Michael Chandler.

    Chandler has developed into a strong low kicker over the last several years, and it’s no surprise, based on where he trains. 

    Believe it or not, his lineage checks out:

    Kenji Kurosaki >> Jan Plas >> Henri Hooft (Kill Cliff FC) >> Michael Chandler

    There are more exceptional kickers in MMA like Jose Aldo, Edson Barboza, and many others. Some of them come from the Dutch lineage and some have more of a Thai style, and some use a blend of both. 

    We started here:

    Mejiro, Tokyo, Japan

    Travelled here:

    Amsterdam, Netherlands

    And eventually, ended up here:

    Deerfield Beach, Florida

    Here are some other important gyms in the development of Dutch kickboxing:

    Chakuriki Gym (Thom Harinck)
    Vos Gym (Johan Vos)

    In just 60 years, we have seen Dutch low kicks go from complete non-existence, to obscurity, and now to not just universal acceptance, but full assimilation and dominance. That is all thanks to people like Masutatsu Oyama, Kenji Kurosaki, Jon Bluming, Jan Plas, Johan Vos, Peter van den Hemel, Jan van Looijen, Thom Harinck, Bas Boon, Chris Dolman, Cor Hemmers, and many other names I haven’t mentioned, or have been lost to time. Long live the power of low kicks.

    References
    1. Kickboxing Tree (Unknown). “Kickboxing Tree.” KickboxingTree.Com, www.kickboxingtree.com/. Accessed 29 Nov. 2024.
    2. “Osamu Noguchi.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 12 Oct. 2023, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Osamu_Noguchi. Accessed 29 Nov. 2024.
    3. Sylvie von Duuglas-Ittu. “Origins of Japanese Kickboxing – the Karate vs Muay Thai Fight That Started It All.” Muay Thai Blog & Journalism | Sylvie von Duuglas-Ittu, 28 Dec. 2015, 8limbsus.com/muay-thai-thailand/the-origins-of-japanese-kickboxing-the-karate-muay-thai-fight-that-started-it-all. Accessed 29 Nov. 2024.
    4. Dutch Kickboxing. “Dutch Kickboxing History.” Dutch Kickboxing, www.dutchkickboxing.com/history/. Accessed 29 Nov. 2024.
    5. “Mas Oyama.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 28 Nov. 2024, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mas_Oyama. Accessed 29 Nov. 2024.
    6. “Kenji Kurosaki.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 14 Nov. 2024, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kenji_Kurosaki. Accessed 29 Nov. 2024.
    7. “Osamu Noguchi.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 12 Oct. 2023, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Osamu_Noguchi. Accessed 29 Nov. 2024.
    8. “Jan Plas.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 20 Sept. 2024, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jan_Plas. Accessed 29 Nov. 2024.
    9. “Thom Harinck.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 26 Nov. 2024, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thom_Harinck. Accessed 29 Nov. 2024.
    10. “Chakuriki Gym.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 19 Nov. 2024, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chakuriki_Gym.
    11. “Rob Kaman.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 26 Oct. 2024, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rob_Kaman.
    12. Homer. The Odyssey, First ed., W. W. Norton & Company, New York City, New York, 2018, p. 228.
    13. Lawrence Kenshin Striking Breakdowns. “Why Dutch Kickboxing Dominates.” YouTube, 24 July 2022, youtu.be/ipqpeOWPy-U?si=vXY3as8e4FDwz6uE. Accessed 30 Nov. 2024.
    14. GLORY. “GLORY 19 Virginia – Nieky Holzken vs. Raymond Daniels (Full Video).” YouTube, 6 Aug. 2015, youtu.be/XfmLLpC1Y9A?si=RTPos6kd0vKtVDva. Accessed 30 Nov. 2024.
    15. MMA Museum. “K-1 Dynamite 2008: Badr Hari vs Alistair Overeem.” YouTube, 28 Aug. 2021, youtu.be/BgmDossYmtc?si=Bxv4RCKCO0qtNd30. Accessed 30 Nov. 2024.
    16. K1. “K-1 MAX – Masato vs. Genki Sudo – Japan Tournament 2003.” YouTube, 23 Mar. 2012, youtu.be/L8X_ZQ-b8zk?si=bOY65DlLB2dBUA95. Accessed 30 Nov. 2024.
    17. Mouseboxer’s Classic Kickboxing. “Lucien Carbin vs. Asumu Inaba (03/05/1981).” YouTube, 25 Oct. 2024, youtu.be/Xs2IfP0Xm7I?si=3PpsrjR-mXKnGpTk. Accessed 30 Nov. 2024.
    18. Mouseboxer’s Classic Kickboxing. “Rob Kaman vs. Blinky Rodriguez (04/04/1982).” YouTube, 2024, youtu.be/u_iac6h5jdU?si=ziM-uOaSUQRRb7VU. Accessed 30 Nov. 2024.
    19. vrx. “Rob Kaman vs Lakchart Sor Prasartporn 2.” YouTube, 10 Aug. 2020, youtu.be/o6y4TuquDFE?si=auMSfB4HF0Bf3Nl5. Accessed 30 Nov. 2024.
    20. “Pankration.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 25 Sept. 2019, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pankration. Accessed 30 Nov. 2024.
    21. Pankration Channel. “PANKRATION KICKS – ΛΑΚΤΙΣΜΑΤΑ ΣΤΟ ΠΑΓΚΡΑΤΙΟ.” YouTube, 13 Mar. 2021, youtu.be/RxOSLVWgN04?si=IKnKmrWf2NkVKybZ. Accessed 30 Nov. 2024.
    22. “Toshio Fujiwara.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 28 Nov. 2024, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toshio_Fujiwara. Accessed 30 Nov. 2024.

  • A Fighter, Evolved: Joe Lewis

    A Fighter, Evolved: Joe Lewis

     

    As a Martial Artist or Fighter, how do you test the effectiveness of the techniques you learn in training?

    Damage. 

    At least, that’s according to one of the greatest Martial Artists to ever live, Joe Lewis. One night in January of 1970, Joe Lewis’s telephone rang. Hollywood stuntman and student of Lewis, Lee Faulkner was on the other line1.

    Faulkner: I want you to fight in my upcoming event, the United States Karate Championships. 

    Lewis: I’m retired from point fighting, but I will fight if I can wear boxing gloves, and knockouts are allowed.

    Faulkner: If I get you a match, will you do it?

    Lewis: Fine.

    Faulkner: Who do you want to fight?

    Lewis: I want a Shotokan fighter, I don’t like their arrogance. 

    Faulkner: Consider it done.

    Although Lewis didn’t end up fighting a Japanese Shotokan specialist, he did fight, and knockouts were allowed. The contest took place on January 17, 1970 and was called “Pro Team Karate Championships” – the first full contact fight to have a USKA (United States Karate Association) belt on the line. In this context, full contact means punches, kicks, elbows and sweeps are allowed, with only a decision or knockout being ways to end the fight. The event took place in Long Beach, California at the Long Beach Sports Arena. Lewis ended up in the ring with a man named Greg Baines, a Kenpo stylist who was one of the best in the world at that time. Lewis wore boxing gloves and sneakers, while Baines wore gloves but chose to go bare foot6. Joe Lewis adopted a modified Karate stance: bladed with hands down, yet upright and long. Both men showed a great ability to neutralize each other’s kicks so the fight became a boxing match between two karate stylists. They also displayed stance switching, some hip feints, and great defensive movements. After a minute, Lewis established himself as the better of the two. He landed his right hook at will, seemingly baffling the (mostly) linear attacks of Greg Baines. These angles would prove to be trouble for Baines, as Lewis got inside the pocket, and landed yet another huge right hook. Lewis stepped back for a moment while Baines was dazed against the ropes, then went back on the attack, landing a wondrously fluid overhand right. The fight was over in just three minutes.

    A Sense Of Purpose

    When I watched the footage trying to determine where Lewis’s advantages were, it became painstakingly clear: Lewis was the better boxer. He displayed superior hand speed, punching technique, inside fighting, and ring IQ. Additionally, Baines was lacking in the areas where Lewis excelled, widening the gap between them. Had this been a karate match it likely would have been very competitive and yet, Lewis’s commitment to martial arts and willingness to cross train in other arts gave him a massive edge. In that sense, Lewis was ahead of his peers in American Karate – he trained under Bruce Lee and studied several boxers. Along with Bruce’s help, Joe Lewis closely watched Willie Pep for his footwork, Jack Dempsey for his explosiveness, Joe Louis for his inside fighting, and Ali for his tactics and mobility1. He actually trained with Sugar Ray Robinson and another boxer named Joey Orbillo – a less prominent but highly respected professional boxer active during the 1960s1. Lewis told James Lew in a 1981 interview that the double lead hook, which he landed frequently throughout this fight – was shown to him by Bruce Lee himself5. Because of his training with Lee and Lewis’s own personal philosophy, he didn’t believe in limiting himself to one style or specialty. Aside from boxing, Lewis trained in Kenpo, Judo, and even Folkstyle Wrestling7. At the time this contest took place in 1970, zero other promoters were organizing full-contact fights in the United States, and there wasn’t much crosstraining going on in American Karate. In other parts of the world, other forms of “Full-Contact” fighting were flourishing. In Japan, Sumo and Professional Wrestling were (and still are) massively popular, entertaining millions of Japanese fans. An underground movement of Vale Tudo was gaining traction in parts of Brazil throughout the 60s and 70s – culminating into the famous “Desafio” events of the 80s. This was happening at a time in Brazil where some Martial Artists like Marco Ruas decided crosstraining was a good idea – parallel thinking by some of the great minds of Martial Arts. By the time Joe Lewis took part in the first full-contact fight, he was already a decorated Martial Artist, having won both national and world championships as an amateur Karate point fighter. His debut took place in 1966 but by 1969, he was already becoming disillusioned with the rules, and frustrated with the increasing number of fighters winning matches by making little to no impact with their opponent1. Or as Lewis puts it, “a kid waives his foot at your head, and they give him the victory”. When I mentioned Lewis’s advantages against Baines, I was leaving something out. It wasn’t just that his boxing skills were sharper. Joe Lewis was simply a superior fighter – a special kind of athlete, a once in a lifetime talent. He had a unique way of moving and striking, knowing just the right time to launch the right attack. I believe his biggest asset was his mind for fighting. He simply understood positioning, timing, technique, leverage, and body mechanics in a way that few others could. Here is Joe Lewis in the first Professional Karate Championships opposite David Moon. Lewis lands a side kick on Moon, which appears to hurt him. 

    When the fighters reset, Moon switches stances, which was later revealed to be because of broken ribs suffered from the first kick. Lewis gets close and grabs Moon’s lead hand to distract him, then crushes the other side of his abdomen. Moon just couldn’t protect his torso fast enough. 

    One word comes to mind when I watch Lewis throw these kicks.

    DAMAGE.

    Throughout the 1960s, point karate in America was pretty unique. The rule set for the events Lewis were considered “light contact”, and would have been two combatants meeting on a hard floor (often a gymnasium) or large mat, wearing a full Karate uniform, and the parameters would look something like this: no strikes below the waist, full contact with punches and kicks to the body allowed up to the chest, light contact to the head (with “light” being up for interpretation). Fighters would either be bare fisted or with hand wraps, and bare feet. You’ve heard somebody use the term “pulling punches”, and point Karate is partially where that phrase comes from. Fighters would pull back on their punches to avoid making strong contact with the face, and you can see how that way of thinking can quickly lead to either heavier accidental contact, or virtually none. During the 70s and 80s, there were limited rule sets for full contact events:

    Full-Contact: Full contact above the waist, no clinching or throwing, minimum or continual kick requirement (meaning you had to throw a certain number of kicks in the fight, or it would just be boxing). This rule set was considered PKA or American Kickboxing style.

    International: The same as full contact but with low kicks and sweeps added, and no minimum kick requirement. This was considered WKA or freestyle. 

    International rules bouts at that time were closer to K-1 is now, which became so unique and popular throughout the 90s that its rule set became a global standard for kickboxing. In K-1, fighters are allowed to clinch. As of August 2011, S.T.A.R. (Standardized Tournaments and Ratings System) has Joe Lewis’s official full-contact (or kickboxing) record listed as 17-4, with an 80 percent knockout rate. Exhibitions aren’t counted because knockouts aren’t allowed, but I suppose Wally Slocki would have a different opinion on that.

    What Style Really Means

    Joe Lewis was a fighter who could adapt to any opponent or fighting scenario. He fought in small and large rings (or just on hard floor), with or without gloves, in uniform or in trunks. He seemed more likely to fight from an orthodox stance, and at other times (like against Bill Wallace in 1970), he would fight almost entirely from the southpaw position. Like most Karate fighters, he switches stances often and looked for different offensive techniques for each. In Karate it was difficult for anyone to stop his lead leg side kick from orthodox, and in kickboxing, his (double) lead hook from southpaw. He does feint quite a bit but mostly small movements, usually in the hips. Throughout his kickboxing days he regularly used his size and strength. You can see him grab a collar tie on Wally Slocki and use it to land some good inside shots:

    Joe Lewis finishes this fight with a beautiful knee from the clinch. This fight was supposed to be an exhibition but Lewis felt that Wally turned it into a real fight, and responded in kind. Muay Thai hadn’t made it to America yet, making Lewis the first fighter in the country to knock somebody out with a knee.

    In Karate he was an aggressive fighter, and often blitzed with multiple strikes. He did the same in Kickboxing but with few rules limiting the damage he could do, Lewis could pressure fighters with impunity, knowing he was a level above most guys on the scene in those days. He could check kicks really well and due to his dexterity, he could bring his lead leg up incredibly high. Watch him check this middle kick:

    Lewis could fight on the inside, kick from distance, bully guys, or play the matador. In his mind a fighter’s style depends on circumstances such as yours and your opponent’s size, specialty, strengths and weaknesses, and when it comes to environment it depends on factors such as floor type and ring size. He understood that real fighting takes place at any given time, with a variety of different opponents, in vastly different environments. Nobody comprehends that better than a guy that fought in the first full contact match in America with only heavy bag training and roadwork.

    Conclusion

    Joe Lewis had an extraordinary mind for fighting. This was evident in his getting a black belt after only 7 months of training, and competing after only 22 total months of Shorin-ryu Karate to his name. With this knowledge, it’s remarkable what Joe Lewis was able to achieve, and the legacy he left behind. He understood early on that point sparring wasn’t an effective way of measuring skill and ability, and he wanted to progress fighting in America towards something more realistic and practical. Lewis went on to create his own program called the Joe Lewis Fighting System, trained many students, and conducted seminars all over the world. He is consider by many to be the greatest Karate fighter who ever lived. 

    References

    _________________________________________________________

    1. MarktheMartian. “Joe Lewis Talks about Bruce Lee and Kickboxing.” YouTube, 21 Nov. 2016, www.youtube.com/watch?v=AXdG577px94.
    2. ‌Joe Lewis Lives. “Joe Lewis – What Style Really Means.” YouTube, 7 Jan. 2022, www.youtube.com/watch?v=DiKqWnXoRP0.
    3. ‌The Martial Arts History Channel. “1980s Full Contact Karate Joe Lewis vs Wally Slocki Ends with Vicious Knee to the Head (with Sound).” YouTube, 22 May 2022, www.youtube.com/watch?v=v4F7spuMV4s.
    4. ‌Maslak, Paul. “Standardized Tournaments and Ratings System AUTHENTICATED KICKBOXING RECORD of Joe Lewis.” Backkicks Martial Arts, 23 Nov. 1991.
    5. Maslak, Paul. “Joe Lewis on the Origin of Full-Contact Martial Arts – Martial Arts Encyclopedia.” Backkicks Martial Arts, 3 Nov. 2022, www.backkicks.com/joe-lewis-on-the-origin-of-full-contact-martial-arts.
    6. Joe Lewis (2nd Part) Full-Contact and Kick-Boxing. karate-in-english-lewis-wallace.blogspot.com/2008/09/joe-lewis-2nd-part-full-contact-and.html.
    7. “Joe Lewis (Martial Artist).” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 17 Aug. 2024, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joe_Lewis_(martial_artist).

     

  • Three Japanese MMA Fighters With More Than 50 Fights

    Three Japanese MMA Fighters With More Than 50 Fights

    Japan has a decorated history when it comes to professional combat. As professional wrestling in Japan slowly transformed into full-on fighting in the late 80s and early 90s, an abundance of Japanese fighters made their way into the fold, from all different backgrounds and Martial Arts. Some of them had short careers spanning 15 or 20 fights, mostly in Japan. Others had long and prestigious careers, enjoying success all over the world. The three fighters I’m discussing here combine for a total of 236 fights, throughout 76 years of experience altogether.

    Yuki Kondo posing on fire

    Photo Courtesy of Giant Bomb

    Yuki “Sora” Kondo

    Record: 65-40-9

    Organizations: Pancrase, PRIDE, UFC

    Division(s): Light Heavyweight, Heavyweight, Middleweight, Openweight

    Yuki Kondo is one of the most underrated fighters to come out of the hybrid wrestling era in 1990s Japan. He has a background in Shorinji Kempo, which is a form of Kung Fu. Despite never having competed before, he decided to train under the legendary Masakatsu Funaki, and made his MMA debut at Pancrase 25 in January of 1996. He has amassed a shocking 114 fights – and I have yet to confirm an official retirement. As of this writing, Yuki’s last fight was on Christmas Eve of 2023, just seven short months ago. Kondo has fought a who’s who across multiple weight classes – names like Paulo Filho, Igor Vovchanchynn, Funaki, Minoru Suzuki, Guy Mezger, Tito Ortiz, Semmy Schilt, Dan Henderson, and Josh Barnett. Yuki did all of this despite walking around at less than 200 pounds. The obvious question is, what is the Kondo’s motivation for competing over 100 times? Simply put, he lived and breathed fighting in a way virtually nobody could ever conceive. He loved to grow and challenge himself as a Martial Artist, and inspire people all over the world to pursue their dream. In doing so, Yuki Kondo has left an everlasting legacy of desire and perseverance.

    Hayato Sakurai posing on fire

    Photo courtesy of Giant Bomb

    Hayato ” Mach” Sakurai

    Record: 38-13-2

    Organizations: Shooto, PRIDE, UFC, DEEP, DREAM

    Division(s): Middleweight, Lightweight, Welterweight

    For the first 5 years of his professional MMA career, Sakurai went undefeated. Winning the Shooto Middleweight Championship in the process, he boasted wins over Frank Trigg, Caol Uno, and Luiz Azeredo. After going 18-0, Anderson Silva dethroned him as the champion, handing Sakurai his first loss. Throughout the late 90s Hayato was one of the absolute best fighters on earth, getting a variety of stoppages such as armbars, toe holds, chokes, and knockouts, including his legendary comeback knockout over Frank Trigg. Post-Anderson Sakurai was still one of the best and most dangerous fights for anyone, taking names like Shinya Aoki, Mac Danzig, and former UFC champions Dave Menne and Jens Pulver. Hayato started as a Judoka but developed a well rounded skill set, favoring flying and jumping knees in the striking. He was an accurate puncher and measured counter striker with explosive speed, and had a dangerous lead hook. Sakurai retired in 2016 after 20 years of competition.

    Akihiro Gono at the UFC 94 weigh-ins

    Photo Courtesy of MMA Junkie

    Akihiro “The Magic Man” Gono

    Record: 37-24-8

    Organizations: Shooto, DEEP, Pancrase, UFC, Sengoku (SRC)

    Division(s): Middleweight, Lightweight, Welterweight

    The Magic Man. The Japanese Sensation. DJ GOZMA. Very few fighters are as ostentatious as Akihiro Gono. Known for his elaborate and often hilarious ring entrances, Gono made a name for himself in Shooto in the late 90s. He debuted in April of 1994 at Lumax Cup, which was the Japanese equivalent to UFC at the time – style versus style matchups. He made his way through the gauntlet of MMA organizations throughout the years – on top of everything listed above, he competed in Bellator, WSOF, RINGS, and even crossed over to kickboxing promotions such as Hero Legends in China, and Krush in Japan. Like Sakurai and Kondo, Gono fought well above his natural weight class – taking on guys like Shogun Rua, Dan Henderson, Chael Sonnen (who he took to a draw), and Denis Kang. Although he came up short against them, he holds wins over Hector Lombard, Crosley Gracie, Hayato Sakurai and Yuki Kondo. His biggest win was undoubtedly his come back against Gegard Mousasi, who had Gono hurt at multiple points during the fight. Akihiro was a spectacle to watch and played many characters when entering the ring, like a Japanese showgirl, or an alter-ego based on Japanese musical artist named DJ Ozma. If you don’t remember Gono for his entrances, you’ll remember him for his fighting style. Akihiro’s background was in Sambo and Karate, which was an uncommon combination in Japan. Like most other fighters during that era, he learned on the job while he was competing as a professional fighter, and developed into a complete fighter. He was a tricky striker, often using deception to distract his opponents before throwing his strikes. He spent a lot of time in the air throwing flying stomps and kicks. And when I say flying, I mean flying. Akihiro Gono never won a world title but if he were to be described as a journeyman; he would be called the enduring, extraordinary, high-flying, ultimate journeyman.

  • Five MMA Fighters That Fought in Multiple Inaugural Events

    Five MMA Fighters That Fought in Multiple Inaugural Events

    The sport of MMA as we know it was born in 1993, which was only 31 measly years ago. Since it’s so young, there is a short history. This makes it easier to look back, especially with the number of organizations we have seen in a brief period of time. With that being said, the majority of fighters have competed under multiple banners throughout their careers. Here are five MMA fighters that have competed in the inaugural event of more than one promotion.

    1. Ken Shamrock

    Organizations: UFC, Pancrase

    Pioneer and Lion’s Den founder Ken Shamrock actually made his MMA debut on September 21st, 1993 at Pancrase’s debut show Pancrase: Yes, We Are Hybrid Wrestlers 1. He faced promotion co-founder and future Japanese star Masakatsu Funaki. Shamrock eventually took him down and mounted him, forcing him to tap to an arm triangle choke. It wasn’t until two months later that he made his now famous debut in the octagon at UFC 1. Since it was a tournament format he fought twice that night, the first was making short work of Pat Smith via heel hook in less than two minutes. The second match-up, which turned into a historic rivalry, was that of Royce Gracie. Although Shamrock couldn’t see himself losing, he tapped due to a gi choke Royce applied. Ken went on become one of the biggest stars in the sport and finished his career with a record of 28-17-2.

    2. Dan Severn

    Organizations: PRIDE, WEC

    In October of 1997, the future UFC Hall of Famer faced UFC veteran and fan favorite Kimo Leopoldo at PRIDE 1. In a largely uneventful 30-minute bout that had even the Japanese crowd uncharacteristically booing, Severn finally secured a takedown in the last minute. That proved to be insufficient, as the fight was ultimately ruled a draw. Fast forward to 2001, The Beast was matched up against Travis Fulton in a rematch at WEC 1: Princes of Pain. Already having beat Fulton once, he was able to take him down early and control top position for majority of the fight. He won the bout via unanimous decision. Dan’s last fight was in 2012, and he finished his long career with a whopping 101 wins. His overall record is 101-19-7.

    3. Eddie Alvarez

    Organizations: Bellator, DREAM

    Before The Underground King ever ventured to the UFC, he was a champion in three organizations. In 2008, DREAM was founded in Japan by former top dogs at PRIDE and K-1. Eddie already had 13 professional fights at this point, having captured the MFC Welterweight Championship earlier in his career. On March 15, 2008, Alvarez competed at DREAM 1, in the opening round of their Lightweight Grand Prix Tournament. He faced notable striker Andre Amade from Chute Boxe Academy. After being dropped by Amade, Eddie recovered. He scored a takedown, then was able to mount Amade and finish him by strikes in the first round. Just a year later, Eddie made a grand entrance at Bellator 1 on April 3, 2009. He faced Greg Loughran, who hurt him early with a left hook. Alvarez came back to submit Loughran with a guillotine choke in the opening minutes of the first round.

    4. Shinya Aoki

    Organizations: DREAM, Rizin

    Although we already have DREAM covered, we’d be remiss to leave out The Grand Master of Flying Submissions. Known as one of the best lightweights outside of the UFC for a very long time, Aoki has competed in many high-level organizations. After 16 professional fights and going undefeated in PRIDE, Aoki also participated in the Lightweight Grand Prix at DREAM’s inaugural event on March 15, 2008. He was matched up against striking veteran Gesias (JZ) Cavalcante. In a bout that largely consisted of Shinya being out struck on the feet, he was frequently on his back, urging Cavalcante to jump into his guard. Later on in the first round, the fight was stopped after Aoki was shooting for a takedown and Gesias landed some controversial elbows. The fight was deemed a no contest. Seven years later, Aoki competed at Rizin Fighting Federation 1 on December 29, 2015. His dance partner was none other than Japanese MMA and Pro Wrestling icon, Kazushi Sakuraba. After a brief exchange, Aoki immediately got a takedown. The entire six-minute fight displayed Aoki landing hard ground and pound from the mount position. Sakuraba’s corner stopped the fight in the first round.

    5. Josh Barnett

    Organizations: Sengoku, Impact FC

    Josh Barnett is a man who has fought all over the world in many premier organizations including the UFC, PRIDE and Strikeforce. He is a former Pancrase and UFC champion. In 2008, the Warmaster himself fought at the inaugural event of Japan’s Sengoku Raiden Championship titled Sengoku First Battle. He faced PRIDE veteran and Judo stylist Hidehiko Yoshida, submitting him with a heel hook in the third round. Barnett later competed at Impact FC 1 on July 10, 2010 against heavyweight KO artist Geronimo Dos Santos. Geronimo had most of his previous fights in Brazil, facing very few quality opponents. Josh got a trip takedown in the opening seconds of the fight, securing mount position almost immediately. He would go on to finish Dos Santos in under three minutes.

  • Bas Rutten | A Modern Samurai

    Bas Rutten | A Modern Samurai

    Disclaimer: Since Bas spent the vast majority of his career fighting in Japan under the banner of Pancrase, he is ineligible to be covered under “The Uncrowned King” series. However, Bas fought and beat many top fighters throughout his career, including a few future UFC champions.

    El Guapo. If there is one name that all die hard fans of MMA and NHB recognize, it’s Bas Rutten. In the 1990s, Bas was the ultimate paragon. No Holds Barred was a brutal form of combat, and Bas was known as a particularly aggressive Dutch Kickboxing stylist. Yet, in a cult sport full of meathead tough guys and performance-enhancing substances, Bas brought honor, discipline, sincerity, and creativity to the ring. We all know that the supreme proving ground for fighters was the Ultimate Fighting Championship, even in the 90s. Although all but three of his 33 fights took place in Pancrase, he ultimately secured UFC Heavyweight gold when he beat Kevin Randleman at UFC 20. Before that, Bas already had wins over the likes of Guy Mezger, Frank Shamrock, Vernon White, Maurice Smith, Jason DeLucia, and Masakatsu Funaki. Bas did have two early losses to Ken Shamrock, but was unable to avenge those losses, as a third fight never materialized. Bas’ achievements in the world of Martial Arts are nothing to sneeze at: 5th Dan black belt in Kyokushin Karate, 2nd Dan black belt in Taekwondo, 1st Dan black belt in Judo, three time King Of Pancrase, and one time UFC Heavyweight Champion. Not too shabby for a guy who couldn’t train consistently until he was an adult because of his parent’s disapproval, and had zero ground training when he debuted in Pancrase. Not only did he exclusively have kickboxing experience when he transitioned to No Holds Barred, but he lived in Holland, which was known for its kickboxing academies, not its wrestling or jiu jitsu schools. He is well known for his punishing knees, and crushing low kicks. His liver attacks were so accurate and destructive that he may as well have patented any strike to that area, insomuch as Bas’ liver shots were as dangerous and effective as any fighter we have ever seen, past or present. Unlike “The Uncrowned King” works, I will not be covering all of Bas’s wins. I have selected a few of Bas’s individual fights to cover, in order to demonstrate the fighting prowess and tactical genius of El Guapo. 

    Pancrase

    Before we talk about any of Bas’s fights, it’s important to note that his first 31 fights were fought under a ruleset unique to Pancrase. This organization pre-dates the UFC and its early format was derived heavily from professional wrestling, since its founders Masakatsu Funaki and Minoru Suzuki were catch wrestling practitioners. I’m not going to list all of the original rules, but I will talk about a few notable ones:

    1. No elbows 
    2. No closed fist strikes to the head
    3. Five “rope escapes” are given to each fighter in each fight. If one person grabs the ropes, the fight is reset on the feet in the center of the ring. 
    4. Round times vary based on the format (standard bout, title bout, tournament bout) but as a whole, fights were one round. 

    I have read multiple sources that say early Pancrase rules consisted of one 15 minute round for non-title bouts and one 30 minute round for title bouts. Tournament fights would have been one 10 minute round plus one overtime. However, Bas has gone on record saying his early fights were all 30 minute rounds, which is what Tapology has documented. With that being said, there are a couple of important things to mention regarding the rules. In PRIDE, if their fighters got entangled in the ropes, the fight would be reset in the middle of the ring, with both fighters being placed in the same position. In Pancrase, if there is a rope escape or the action is taking place too close to the ropes, the fight is reset in the center of the ring. However, instead of them being put in the same position (if on the ground), the two fighters are stood up as they are at the beginning of the round. This rule benefits strikers, and it certainly aided Bas in some of his fights, although as you will see, it also hurt him at times. He admittedly had very little ground training early in his career, and was repeatedly taken down and controlled by wrestlers. But as far as striking is concerned, Bas was on another level. The other thing worth mentioning is while there were strikes allowed on the ground, they were discouraged by fans, and went relatively unused in Pancrase’s early days. Bas himself stated that he did not strike on the ground due to the perception at the time, but if his opponent did so, he then reciprocated. 

    The Basics

    Organizations: Pancrase, UFC

    Weight Class: Heavyweight, Openweight

    Years Active: 1993-1999, 2006

    MMA Record: 28-4-1

    There is a lot of interesting information written about Bas and even spoken by the man himself, as his career is well documented. However, I will only be scratching the surface here. Bas Rutten started competing in Kickboxing in 1985, going 14-2, with all of his wins by knockout. All of his fights were in Holland, which comprises part of the Western region of the Netherlands. He eventually had trouble finding fights, and subsequently worked as a bouncer and entertainer during the late 80s and early 90s. Dutch wrestler Chris Dolman was impressed by Bas’ physical abilities, and invited Bas to train at the RINGS Holland Dojo. Bas accepted and while he was training there in 1993, Japanese Pro Wrestlers Masakatsu Funaki and Minoru Suzuki scouted him, after seeing him knock out a certain unnamed RINGS fighter. In September of the same year, he made his debut.

    The Arrival

    Bas Rutten’s first fight in Pancrase was against pro wrestler turned fighter Ryushi Yanagisawa, who was also making his professional fighting debut. Bas originally thought he was going to fight 5×3 rounds, likely because of his background in Muay Thai. He was told the fight would be one 30 minute round. Yanagisawa opens with a rear low kick and when Bas counters with his own, Ryushi returns fire with a lead low kick. What followed from Bas was the right-side combination of a rear high kick that was blocked, then a right hand behind it. Bas first pawed his lead hand out, making Yanagisawa think about a lead side attack. Then Bas turned his hips and uncorked a right cross, uncoiling and driving forward like an aqueous machine, which then pulled back and constricted its wires, relaxing instinctively. 

    Yanagisawa fell over on his side and put his left hand up to his own face, checking for blood, seemingly in shock. Since Pancrase had ten counts, Ryushi got back up as the count was nearing its end, still dazed from the blow. The fight restarted and Bas immediately went on the offensive. He launched a lead liver kick, a right hook to the head, and went for the killshot. That would be a step-in rear knee to Yanagisawa’s head. Bas took the tiniest step to the left with his lead foot to create a different angle, and his leg rose up from the ground like a serpent, striking Ryushi’s left temple. When Bas threw the strike, the angle of his leg is such that it initially appears as though he is throwing a high kick, but instead lands the knee, widening the angle of his two legs like a Japanese war fan. Yanagisawa fell straight back on his tailbone, partially catching himself with his left elbow. 

    For a moment he tries to stand up but within a millisecond, he falls back and his head lands on the canvas, his body sprawled out on the mat. Bas checks on his opponent, who laid for a minute and eventually got up, with help. Not only did Bas win in 43 seconds, but he made that night the international debut of the Rutten Jump (which is a jumping split kick that he had certainly performed many times before), much to the crowd’s delight. He then followed that up with two front kicks, and ended it with a 360 degree round kick. The Bas Rutten era had begun. 

    Don’t Breathe

    Bas Rutten’s debut lasted 43 seconds. With his first fight in Japan out of the way, he didn’t want to waste too much time here, either. When he was fighting in Holland, he was known for being overly aggressive, and used brute force to knock guys out. In Pancrase, Rutten became a more focused and calculated fighter, living up to the technical ability that he displayed in the gym. Bas says this was likely due to his personal growth, as well as the respectful fight audience in Japan. Takaku was another 1-0 fighter, having made quick work of Vernon White by submitting him at Pancrase 1. After Fuke snatches a quick single leg there are a few brief scrambles, and Bas uses Fuke’s armbar attempt to get on top. Fuke, having never let go of Bas’s left arm, hooks his right leg or Bas’s left shoulder and turns his belly down, cranking on another armbar. Bas is unable to step over Fuke’s body to relieve the pressure and decides to drag him towards the ropes, while his arm is being cranked, and unbelievably, achieves a rope escape. After Fuke takes Rutten down again and looks for another armbar, Bas is able to get up, and this spells the beginning of the end for Takaku. As he drives his head forward into Bas to take him down, Bas grabs hold of a double collar tie, and lands a hard knee to the solar plexus. He looks for a guillotine and his corner yells “knee!”, to which he obliges, and shockingly lands the same knee he landed on Yanigisawa. Rutten was so locked in that instead of committing to the choke, he saw giant red flashing crosshairs on Fuke’s liver, and slammed his left knee into it. 

    The Shorts

    After a disappointing loss to Funaki in his last fight, Bas’s record dropped to 2-1. As the title above would indicate, This is Bas’s first fight without his patented pink (then faded and purple-looking) shorts. He loved these fight trunks, but Pancrase didn’t like them as much as he did. This was likely due to their bright color, and their use in Muay Thai, as opposed to the pro wrestling underwear worn by his Pancrase counterparts. Now sporting briefs, Rutten will face Vernon “Tiger” White – a fighter with perhaps a more questionable record than Bas’s previous opponents, coming in at 1-5. But Vernon, like Bas, had been another guy with a striking background, who was thrown into Pancrase with no experience fighting, and suffered losses against fighters with catch wrestling backgrounds, who took him down and submitted him. Tiger had a background in Taekwondo and displayed a great variety of kicks in his fights, but wasn’t adept at using palm strikes the way Bas was. White opened with a couple of low kicks, one outside, then one inside. Bas countered with a rear teep that whipped into Vernon’s stomach. Vernon didn’t like the way that felt – and immediately shot for a double leg takedown. 

    Bas sprawls and after a scramble, he goes hunting for a leg. The referee broke them up, likely due to how close Bas was to the ropes, and the two fighters stand back up. Vernon really didn’t like how hard Bas hit because he was looking for takedowns any time they exchanged in close. The second time this happened, Bas latched up a front headlock, and clamped down on White’s leg so he couldn’t escape the half guard position. Bas gripped tightly and cranked, his elbows pointed outward, his frame parallel to Vernon’s own. A few seconds later Vernon tapped, and Bas got in a full four Rutten Jumps before White was able to stand up. That’s a wrap. 

    A Clash Of Legends

    By the time Bas faced this next opponent, he had amassed a record of 6-2, with his only losses being to Ken Shamrock and Funaki. It’s no secret that Bas struggled with wrestlers, but he was improving quickly. At Pancrase 13, Rutten fought none other than Frank Shamrock. Nowadays we all know Frank as the brother of Ken, and as a former UFC Light Heavyweight Champion, WEC Light Heavyweight Champion, and Strikeforce Middleweight Champion. However, in December of 1994, Frank was in Tokyo making his debut against a dangerous striker. This is a tough first fight for anyone to say the least, and in retrospect seems unfair, but Frank was more than up for the challenge. In the first 20 seconds of the fight, Shamrock gets a blast double and drives Bas across the ring. Frank is able to achieve half guard before Bas uses his hips to elevate his right side, turns to his left and continues forward motion, pushing Frank to his back, and landing in half guard. Bas briefly considers an arm triangle and abandons it, and Frank reverses him nearly the same way he was reversed, and falls into Bas’s half guard. In modern Mixed Martial Arts, this next sequence would make hardcore fans scream in agony. Bas once again reverses Frank, takes his back, has a rear naked choke fully locked in, and the referee breaks up the action because Bas’s head was under the rope. 

    Once Shamrock takes him down again, Bas is able to get another reversal, and has Frank in trouble for a few seconds. At this point Frank is on bottom stretched out, Bas is on top and perpendicular to his body, with his legs straightened out, and his left arm wrapped around the back of Frank’s head. This is called a scarf hold position. Bas pulls Shamrock’s head towards his chest and looks for a neck crank, putting pressure on his spinal cord. In his own commentary Bas says he was looking to attack his arm as well, so perhaps he was looking to transition to an armbar or straight elbow lock.

    Frank counters by clasping his hands between his own head and Bas’s, stopping Bas from pulling his head all the way forward. Eventually Shamrock rolls to his feet. After a takedown by Frank and a few scrambles, Rutten attempts another rear naked choke, which results in him being mounted. On the feet Bas is doing damage, but he is ultimately taken down for his troubles, and most of this fight plays out on the ground. The fight ends with Rutten on top of Shamrock, landing some shots that aren’t necessarily punishing, but are pretty solid. Since this fight was a tournament bout in the first round of the King Of Pancrase Tournament, it was only one 10 minute round. Once the final bell rings, the fighters patiently await the judges decision, while Bas is looking for a contact lens that he lost. Bas recruits Frank to help him locate the missing contact before Shamrock is awarded a majority decision, which is something I ultimately disagree with. 

    You would think that since most of this fight took place on the ground, Shamrock getting the decision would be a no-brainer (because that’s where he wants it). However, like modern MMA, I think the judges were awarding the wrestler, younger brother of Ken Shamrock and potential future star, while favoring control and takedowns over damage and aggression. Watching the fight, it wasn’t a particularly difficult decision for me to make when picking Bas, as he landed hard on the feet. Once the two were on the ground, Bas was constantly on the attack, got on top of Frank several times, and had multiple submission attempts that were pretty close to being finishes. I counted five reversals for Bas in this bout, which is pretty impressive, considering he hadn’t been training on the ground for long. This would mark Bas’s third career loss, bringing him to a record of 6-3.

    The Rematch

    In March of 1995, just three months after the loss to Frank Shamrock, Bas was submitted by his brother Ken Shamrock again, using a defense that he thought would work. As a result of training with Funaki, he was overconfident, resulting in Ken surprising him with a painful kneebar. This ignited a fire in Bas, and he vowed to become a submission master so that he never fell victim to one again. He would respond to this loss by spending every waking (and unwaking) moment obsessing over submissions. Bas personally attested to putting his own wife into submission holds in the middle of the night while still asleep, putting illustrations of them all over his walls, and creating different variations of set ups and submissions to make them his own unique weapons. Consequently, Bas rattled off three impressive wins over Fuke, Smith and DeLucia, all by submission. By this time Bas was so feared standing up that his opponents tried to take him down and upon doing so, would find out that he’s just as dangerous on the ground. All of these events led to a rematch against Frank Shamrock, one that Bas desired greatly. This rematch took place in July of 1995, which tells you how active Pancrase fighters were in those days. 

    Shamrock opens with an overhand right that lands. He catches a teep that Bas makes contact with, and starts the second fight like he did the first one. This time Bas takes a different approach, gaining wrist control on both hands, with Frank being able to shake free. After about two minutes of control time and minimal damage, the referee stands them up. For all of Bas’s work disguising his kicks, Shamrock sure loves catching them, and is exceptional at doing so. Any periods of striking in this fight are brief, none lasting more than 30 seconds. At one point on the ground Bas reverses Frank. Inside of Shamrock’s full guard, Bas reaches and pulls his head off the mat, towards his own chest. Nowadays this looks more like a can opener to get the bottom guy to open his guard, in this case it’s clear that Bas is looking for a neck crank. Similar to the one he was looking for in their first matchup, but from a different position. Shamrock tries to stand up and Bas rolls for a leg lock, then transitions into a kneebar attempt. Right as he is about to have Frank in big trouble, his foot touches the rope and the fight is stood up. 

    About halfway through the fight, Bas opens his guard and kicks Shamrock off of him to stand up – an action that gets him a respectful bow from Shamrock. A later takedown sees Bas attack the legs again, with Frank fully stretched out in a kneebar before the two are stood up, again. Once they are back on the ground, Bas nearly locks in a triangle choke from the bottom before losing leg position and hearing the bell ring. The frustration is evident on the face of Bas, but the fight is over. As the fighters are waiting for the judge’s decision, you can hear Bas say “10 more seconds”, indicating that’s all the time he needed to get a finish over Shamrock. Bas has been on record many times saying that the rules in Pancrase regarding the ropes really bothered him to no end, and if he was allowed to keep the position until we saw a tap, that he would have more submissions on his record. He also said that he and Frank were friends, and spent a lot of time together in Japan. What’s interesting about this is that I felt Bas clearly won both fights. Although he was taken down at will in this fight, like the first one, he was the more aggressive fighter, and came closer to getting a stoppage than Frank did. Shamrock also improved on the feet, as he landed some good shots throughout the course of the fight, even taunting Bas, baiting him to throw something so Frank could get an opening for a takedown. I’m not going to pretend that these fights weren’t competitive though, because they were both close. For as little time as these two spent on the feet in their first matchup, they spent even less time standing in this contest. Bas wasn’t thrilled with his performance, but he was happy to get this one back. 

    Lion’s Den Continued

    Bas Rutten had a lot of fights in the 90s. Pancrase had their rule set centered on ring action, but also wanted to limit injuries, so that they could compete with pro wrestling programming. Therefore in a span of 31 months, Bas had 20 fights. In his 19th professional fight, Rutten faced Guy Mezger at Pancrase 26. Guy of course was (mostly) known for winning two alternate bouts in the UFC, at UFC 4 and UFC 5, respectively. He had both a wrestling and kickboxing background (along with other arts). The former was during high school, and the latter had him competing as a professional as late as 1995, the year he made his Pancrase debut. He had cross trained quite a bit and joined The Lion’s Den, which made Guy a unique opponent for Bas – a fighter who was dangerous both on the feet and on the ground. Out of all of the Bas fights I’m covering here, Guy was by far the most accomplished striker, and the most competitive with Bas on the feet. Bas seemed more weary of Guy’s ground game, as he felt he could beat anyone standing up (and rightfully so). Mezger was able to take Bas down early. As Guy gets double underhooks, Bas secures double overhooks, and Mezger uses those hooks to pull Bas nearly off the ground towards Guy’s own head, then uses that momentum to drive forward, taking Bas off of his feet. Mezger is able to stay in side control for a while, looking to isolate Bas’s left arm. He eventually takes mount and Bas recovers full guard, then the fight is reset. An aggressive Rutten rolls for a leg lock while they are standing and it costs him a position. This fight, like both fights against Frank Shamrock, consist of lots of ground exchanges, followed by brief segments of striking. The striking itself was very competitive in this fight, with the left hook being Bas’s best weapon. Mezger was mixing it up well with low kicks, knees, and some body punches. 

    The body work was impressive, as nobody had been able to work the body or legs the way Guy did. This certainly paid dividends for Mezger, as Bas was visibly tired later in the fight, and Guy was arguably winning for a large portion of the contest. I feel like Bas’s advantage in striking was the fact that he was dangerous from all distances, whereas Guy had a variety of techniques and was landing good shots, but couldn’t comfortably strike at every range without worrying about counters. Bas also had a power advantage and didn’t seem to be phased by anything Guy was landing. Mezger did not strike on the ground but had several takedowns, each lasting at least 2-3 minutes on the canvas. Although they both had success with low kicks, they both showed competent low kick defense, sporadically checking the other’s attacks. At almost 18 minutes into the fight, Guy had his knee on Bas’s belly, and Rutten looked tired. He was discouraged from the takedowns, and his hand was injured. That wasn’t enough to stop him though, as the fight was reset and he went on the attack. Guy took him down and immediately starting fishing for his right leg. As Mezger went for a kneebar, Bas grabbed Guy’s right ankle. This was during a period of time when heel hooks were banned in Pancrase, because of the frequency of injuries. This meant that we saw more guys looking for straight kneebars and/or ankle locks. There is a huge difference between a heel hook and a toe hold. While both involve some level of foot control and torque, a heel hook requires complete control of the foot, while a toe hold is more isolated to the front half of the foot, away from the ankle. Since I’m not a Jiu Jitsu guy, I don’t want to go any further. Instead, I will put some pictures here, and let you look up these submissions yourself.

    Here’s what a heel hook looks like:

    Here’s a toe hold:

    Countering the De La Riva with a Quick Toe Hold – BJJ Fanatics

    As Guy tries to stand and pull his foot out, Bas takes the ankle he has control of and uses both hands to twist it to his right, almost at a 45 degree angle. Mezger screamed out in agony, which would normally be considered a verbal tap. However, Bas let go of the submission and upon doing so, Guy tapped on the mat, and the referee confirmed his decision to stop fighting. If you look at the images above, you will see that what Bas Rutten did was more of a toe hold, as opposed to an ankle lock, which is what his official record says. Either way, Bas continues the trend of submitting fighters who are supposed to be better than him at submissions. 

    The Rubber Match

    I thought about covering the third Frank Shamrock fight, but I didn’t think it would be fun for myself or anyone else to write about three fights against the same guy. El Guapo had multiple rematches during his Pancrase career, as there were only so many heavyweights fighting in Japan at that time. One of such rematches was Jason DeLucia, for a third time. Having fought twice before, they were familiar with each other, but both fights ended quickly, Bas claiming victory by submission early in each of those contests. This time these two got to know each other a little bit, and it made for an entertaining and unusual affair. Jason opens with some nice side kicks and low kicks, and Bas counters with a rear body kick, followed by a closed fist punch. According to Bas, he was training to punch in the high chest area, and hit Jason in the throat. It appeared to land on his chin but could have hit his throat, but DeLucia’s hand is sort of blocking the view.

    Keep in mind that closed fist strikes were illegal only when landed to the head, so if it landed elsewhere, it would have been perfectly legal. Bas received a warning from the referee, and the action continued. Rutten liked to challenge himself in different ways in some of his fights. In this one, he told his corner he wanted to let the fight go on 15 minutes, then try to knock DeLucia out. That didn’t go quite according to plan, and pretty soon you’ll see why. In this fight it’s clear Jason took some lessons from their first two meetings, because he’s very aggressive, and is putting his punches and kicks together really well. 

    Bas is able to check some of the low kicks and do some good body work with right and left combinations. What’s notable with respect to the striking is that as Bas is covering up, DeLucia is looking to land shots around and in between his guard. It’s when Jason allows Bas to come forward, that Bas is able to cover ground and do some damage. About halfway through Jason gets a takedown and achieves mount, but gets stood up after a period of inactivity. In another exchange, Jason complains that Bas punched him in the face with a closed fist. If you watch it back, it appears to land in the upper chest area, near the clavicle bone, which would be legal. 

    It’s hard to tell, but since I don’t see DeLucia’s head move from the impact, I’m taking Bas’s word for it that it landed below the head. Regardless, Rutten is given a yellow card, which means a point is being taken from him. Less than a minute after this occurs, Bas lands a right straight to the solar plexus. He follows with another. DeLucia again claims Bas hit him in the head with a closed fist, even though it’s painfully obvious he didn’t.

    Bas is given a red card, which deducts two points from his score, if this fight goes to the judges. Rutten is visibly angry, and who wouldn’t be, particularly a competitor who holds himself to the standards that Bas does. In his own commentary, Bas states that at this point he wanted to take DeLucia out. What’s interesting is, the referee has no way of confirming the foul, but punishes Rutten for it anyways. El Guapo ups his tempo, at one point pushing Jason against the ropes, causing him to get thrown across the ring, almost falling. Bas then took advantage of a flaw in DeLucia’s defense, landing a right cross-left hook to the body combination, one he landed earlier in the fight. Jason falls backwards into the corner of the ring. He stands up on the eight count. Bas decided he doesn’t need head shots at all for this one. He drops Jason again quickly with a round kick to the body. DeLucia again cries foul, claiming the kick was low. 

    I think the referee is aware of Jason’s tactic now, and shows him where the kick landed, on his left hip. Bas begrudgingly shakes his hand, and this handshake precedes the next knockdown by a mere 5 seconds. Jason is back up again. More punishing body work from El Guapo. Surprisingly DeLucia doesn’t drop his hands, and Bas lands the final blows. He flashes the right hand in his face, forces him to defend, and comes around the guard with a final left-hook to the liver. Don’t piss off Bas Rutten. 

    The King

    By this time, Bas Rutten was a star in Japan. He had submitted Suzuki at the 1995 Pancrase Anniversary show to become the King Of Pancrase, and he unified, as well as defended that belt against Frank Shamrock when he fought him for the third time. His fight against DeLucia that we just analyzed, was not a title fight. However, this next one is. After brutalizing the liver of Jason DeLucia, Rutten looked to defend his King Of Pancrase title in a rematch against Funaki. Their first time meeting was in 1994, and it was Bas’s third professional NHB fight. Just 3 minutes into that fight, Funaki had him mounted, and cranked his right leg with a heel hook, forcing Bas to accept defeat. This time around, things would be different. Bas was a completely different fighter now, and he was ready to prove it. Bas was 18-4 coming into this one, and the biggest factor in this fight was the progression of Rutten’s ground game. For a lot of the fight, Funaki employed various tactics to initiate his leg attacks – leg-on-belly, leg-on-chest, and later on even pressing his shin bones onto Bas’s shoulders to attempt a kneebar. Bas had to survive a heel hook that had him in serious trouble, turning his leg away from him, his leg and body at nearly a 90-degree angle. He withstood it by pulling Funaki’s legs toward him, trying to relieve the pressure being activated by Funaki’s hips. 

    For the rest of the fight, Funaki was able to get Bas down with relative ease, but never came close to locking anything in. In fact Bas later uses these leg attacks to get up and push away from Funaki, looking to do some striking damage. One thing I noticed about Bas is that he has great timing – he anticipates when his opponent is about to strike, and he strikes first, landing on them before they are ready for it. We see this in spades here, and Funaki is unable to land anything significant. By around 14 minutes or so, Funaki is showing signs of fatigue, and Rutten takes advantage of it. He lands two consecutive right hooks in a row. 

    Funaki falls down, hands covering his face. Once the fight is restarted, Funaki immediately shoots as Bas collapses space between them, and lands a hard palm strike (hammer palm) to an exhausted Funaki on the ground. He is unable to get up right away so it counts as another knockdown. Funaki is clearly hurt but that doesn’t stop him from getting up. After a brief break for a rope escape, Bas feints a right knee and delivers a painful mixture of strikes – left hook, rear uppercut, left hook, and right cross. For the third time, Funaki is down again, only this time the fearless Japanese wrestler somehow recovers even faster, getting up before the ref reaches six seconds. The final exchange of the fight lasts for about 20 seconds, with Bas throwing everything in his arsenal, and it is absolutely brutal. 

    At one point Bas holds Funaki’s head with his left hand and throws an overhand right, but because of the space between them, the right hand ends up being a stabbing punch, like Rutten was impaling him with a sword right through his temple. Funaki can barely move at this point, after being exhausted and made to be a human punching bag. The final shot was a rear knee. Out of desperation, Funaki grabs a single collar tie and as he does so, Bas’s right knee meets his head with extraordinary force. Merciless. Bas ranks this as the single greatest performance of his career, outlasting the Golden Boy of Pancrase by dragging him into deep waters, just like he said he would. 

    When all was said and done for Bas Rutten, he retired in 1999 at the young age of 34. He would have one last fight in 2006 but ultimately, he had too many injuries to continue fighting. He started a successful career commentating in PRIDE FC and WSOF, acted in some movies, wrote some books, created some training equipment, and always finds a way to keep himself busy. His unbeaten streak of 22 fights following his second loss to Ken is one of the great runs in MMA history, and it’s crazy to think that 21 of those fights came in just 4 short years. Bas Rutten was ahead of his time in a brutal freakshow sport, a terrifying man who would pulverize your liver into dust with his fist, then visit you in the hospital the next day. He was a thinking man amongst his contemporaries, who could read your patterns, figure you out, and find a way to finish you. In his first fight against Fuke, he timed his knee right as Fuke was breathing in, knowing that a fully tensed midsection could not take that sort of blunt force trauma without collapsing. Bas was fearless in ways most of us cannot imagine, even when he was out of his comfort zone. He wasn’t afraid to try new things and in fact tirelessly pursued methods and moves not yet conceived, not just for their uniqueness, but for their functionality. In May of 1994, the day before Bas fought Kazuo Takahashi, he was walking the streets of Japan. He saw a massive screen on the side of a building promoting Pancrase, and playing some of the fight footage from recent events. While he is standing on side of the road, Rutten watches this play, and sees a fighter going for an inverted heel hook. He says to himself “I gotta try that”. The next night he fights Takahashi, tries the move he saw on the screen, and ended up breaking his leg with it. 

    We’ve all heard the term “Ronin” before – A Samurai without a master. In Feudal Japan this was considered shameful, and at times meant the samurai had no ties to his family or clan. The broader, more philosophical way of describing this concept is a wanderer or free person who finds their own way without belonging to a single master or place. The term Ronin describes Bas better than any other word I can imagine – a man armed with the sword of the desire for combat. With a comprehension of fighting above most of his time period, Bas moved around to different academies, collecting useful data. When he didn’t find anything valuable, he simply scrapped the superfluous, went elsewhere, and sharpened his sword. His corners consisted of his manager and a rotating door of fighters and athletes he discovered during his training sessions. Ultimately Bas always was (and still is) a man living of his own accord, looking for his own path in the debris around him. 

    Shout Outs

    Professor Jason Diaz of Ohana Academy for helping me understand the differences between a heel hook and a toe hold.


    Mike Davis and Chris Lytle of the Lytes Out Podcast. Their interviews with Bas were a tremendous help in writing this article. 

    References

    ——————————————————————————————-

    1. Bas Rutten. (2011, March 21). In Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bas_Rutten
    2. (hdmexiqtioner). Tapology | Bas Rutten. Tapology. https://www.tapology.com/fightcenter/fighters/bas-rutten-el-guapo
    3. (n.d.). Bas Rutten. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/@OfficialBasRutten
    4. L. O. (2023, January 10). Pancrase Years Deep Dive. YouTube. https://youtu.be/uuiI0gGz060?si=lyMLNw0ON5Eyd00D
  • The Rise of Brazilian Muay Thai Part II | A Hero’s Journey

    The Rise of Brazilian Muay Thai Part II | A Hero’s Journey

    The Torchbearer

    In 1979, a Brazilian martial artist traveled along the coastline of Brazil and beyond, on a quest to spread the art of Muay Thai. That man was Taekwondo black belt and Muay Thai ambassador Flavio Molina. Starting in his hometown of Rio De Janeiro, Flavio spread Muay Thai across cities such as Sao Paolo, Salvador, Fortaleza, and Brasilia. After a few years of spreading Muay Thai across Brazil and competing in Taekwondo, Flavio organized the first Muay Thai competitions in his home country. The first took place in 1982 and pitted Rio De Janeiro vs. Curitiba, which Molina competed in. Another took place in 1983 when Rio fighters took on guys from Sao Paolo.[4] Although it’s unclear how many times Flavio competed under a Muay Thai rule set, it’s clear he was a great teacher. In the early 80s, Flavio started working with Marco Ruas. You may remember Marco from the first part of this series, where we talked about him pulverizing Paul Varelans with leg kicks. In 1984, Molina and his team at Academia Naja were invited to participate in the now-famous event in Rio De Janeiro called “Jiu Jitsu vs. Martial Arts”. He would go on to train Marco along with Eugenio Tadeu, both guys being first-generation Brazilian Muay Thai fighters. All three guys would compete that night in 1984, with Flavio being handed the only loss on the team.[4] Flavio would continue to coach Marco Ruas throughout the 80s. He even started training in Luta Livre, becoming the main training partner of his own students.[4] Being a man of many talents such as lifeguard and air rescue specialist, Flavio Molina sadly passed away in 1998 while participating in a rescue training program, leaving behind a massive legacy.[4] Now that we’ve talked about what Flavio Molina has done for Brazilian Muay Thai, we can safely ask, why did he do it? After learning the art and completely immersing himself in it for two years, he certainly had the desire to teach it to as many people as possible. In addition, there was another force pulling him in that direction. This mysterious force was another Rio martial artist by the name of Nelio “Naja” Borges De Souza.

     Flavio Molina circa 1982. Photo courtesy of BJJ Heroes.

    A Hero’s Journey

    And when I say “mysterious”, it is not a word to be taken lightly, being that Nelio is as enigmatic as any martial arts teacher of the 1970s. Grandmaster Nelio was a man born in Rio De Janeiro, in 1952.[3] Not much is known about his childhood or personal life, and some of the details of the period between 1970 and 1978 are in question, but we do know that Nelio was the first man in Brazil to learn and teach Muay Thai. It is at this point I will concede that deep into my research of Nelio Naja, I discovered that the original timeline of events I constructed was completely wrong. Furthermore, I also learned that the manner by which he learned Muay Thai is uncertain, and dubious at best. In scouring the web for as much information as I could about Nelio, I stumbled upon an article titled “He Himself Told It: Nelio Naja, The Production Of a Myth”, posted by a Brazilian archive website named Scielo Brazil. The article is a study published in 2020 and cites various journals, essays and books to attempt to dissect the stories told by Nelio Naja, specifically regarding the genesis of Brazilian Muay Thai. This topic is significant in itself so we will not dive deeply into it, but if you are interested in learning about the stories surrounding Nelio, this article is fantastic and you can read it here. In short, the study presents three potential narratives for explaining how Nelio learned Muay Thai. Here are all three: 

    Narrative One – This is a commonly repeated story and the one you will see most often when you look up Nelio’s name. The tale is that Nelio served in the Brazilian Air Force as a paratrooper and during his tenure, he traveled to South Asia and became fascinated with Asian culture. This experience inspired him to travel to Bangkok and live there for two years after he was discharged from the military. During his time in Thailand, he learned Muay Thai and fell in love with it. He then came back to Brazil, settled in Curitiba, and taught Muay Thai there. The known (or most universally accepted) timeline would put his military service sometime between 1970 and 1972 – although this conflicts with his Taekwondo Master Woo Jae Lee’s account of training Nelio for the first time in Rio De Janeiro in 1972. On top of that, when Scielo contacted BINFA (Brazilian Air Force Infantry Battalion), they were informed that Nelio did not serve in the Air Force at all and that no international missions took place until the 1990s.[1] 

    Narrative Two: According to Welington Narany, Fabio Noguchi, and Rudimar Fedrigo (all a big part of the Brazilian Muay Thai scene), Nelio’s family met a Thai man in Curitiba who needed a place to live and subsequently stayed in their family house. These events led to the Thai man teaching Nelio the art of Muay Thai. How long this mysterious man lived in their house is unknown, and so is the influence he had on Nelio.[1]

    Narrative Three: Nelio learned Muay Thai techniques through an Anime called Kick No Oni (“Demon Of The Kick”). This particular show followed a Karateka named Tadashi Sawumara who challenged a Thai boxer to a fight, and lost. Upon losing the fight, Sawamura dedicated himself to Muay Thai and became a master of the discipline. Rudimar, Wellington, Sandro Lustosa, and Augusto Cunha specified that Nelio was influenced by this anime, as it was seminal in Brazil during the late 1970s. The proposed theory is that by watching this show over and over again, Nelio learned the techniques, practiced and refined them, until he knew them well enough to teach them.[1]

    Nelio is pictured on the right. Photo Courtesy of Bloody Elbow.

    A Grandmaster Never Reveals His Methods

    There is a lot more to the story that I won’t cover here. The founding of Brazilian Muay Thai involved a very small community specific to Rio De Janeiro and Curitiba from 1976 to 1980. What is not in dispute is that Nelio Naja started training in Taekwondo in 1972 at the Frama Academy located in Aterro do Flemengo (“Flamengo Park”), a neighborhood in the southeast tip of Rio De Janeiro.[1] We also know from Woo Jae Lee that he awarded Nelio his black belt in 1976.[1] This gives Nelio roughly two years or so to have learned Muay Thai techniques well enough to teach them. By 1978 he would have a handful of disciples, which led to Flavio opening the Naja Academy in September of the same year.[2] Nelio has stated that the Brazilian Muay Thai lineage starts with Flavio, and entrusted him to teach the art throughout the country of Brazil. Another anecdote of Nelio came from his own Taekwondo master. Lee described Nelio as “Demonstrating discipline and performing the positions perfectly”, alluding to Nelio’s extraordinary learning ability, and quality of technique.[1] None of the accounts I have read contained a single grain of doubt with regards to Naja’s level of skill, technique, and ability to teach, as it relates to either Taekwondo or Muay Thai. Whatever Nelio did to learn Muay Thai – whether he summoned an ancient spirit, or rewound a VHS tape 500 times to refine his techniques; he is referred to by those of his lineage as “The Father of Brazilian Muay Thai”. Nelio spent the last fifteen years of his life as a recluse and in 2018 he was found dead in his home, an unfinished house in Almirante Tamandare, Curitiba. His cause of death has not been revealed.[6]

    While Flavio, Ruas, and many other fighters were busy cross-training in other disciplines throughout the 80s to grow and improve as martial artists – roughly twelve hours away in Curitiba, an even bigger pot was bubbling. That pot would be Chute Boxe Academy, opened by Nelio’s standout student Rudimar Fedrigo in 1978. In the next part of this series, we will discuss Chute Boxe Academy and the impact it had on fighting in the 90s and 2000s. 

    References

    ________________________________________________________________________________________

    1. Muller, I. L., & Capraro, A. M. (2020). “HE TOLD IT HIMSELF”: NÉLIO NAJA, THE PRODUCTION OF A MYTH. SciELO Brazil, 26. https://doi.org/10.22456/1982-8918.99251
    2. “Entrevista NéLio Naja.” YouTube, uploaded by PrimeiroRound, 6 May 2010, www.youtube.com/watch?v=i6Gu45WnHA&t=100s.
    3. “Nélio Naja.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 3 May 2023, pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/N%C3%A9lio_Naja.
    4. “Flávio Molina.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 3 May 2023, pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fl%C3%A1vio_Molina.
    5. Alonso, Eduardo. “Interview with Pele Landi.” Full Contact Fighter, 23 Nov. 2001, fcfighter.com/interview-with-pele-landi/.
    6. “NéLio Naja, Introducer of Muay Thai in Brazil, Dies.” Globo Esporte, 12 Jul. 2018, ge.globo.com/pr/noticia/morre-nelio-naja-introdutor-do-muay-thai-no-brasil.ghtml.
  • The Rise Of Brazilian Muay Thai | Leg Meat

    The Rise Of Brazilian Muay Thai | Leg Meat

    Disclaimer One: For the purpose of honoring the time period for which this article covers, we will refer to Mixed Martial Arts in the United States as No-Holds-Barred, or simply NHB. We will also refer to Martial Arts Competitions in Brazil from the 1960s to 1990s as Vale Tudo.

    Disclaimer Two: This article may seem to end abruptly, but it is only the first part in a multi-part series on how Brazilian Muay Thai made its way to America.

    UFC 7 took place on September 8, 1995. At this time, the sport that would later become known as Mixed Martial Arts was in its infancy. Commonly referred to as “No-Holds-Barred”, “Vale Tudo”, or even “Bare Knuckle Fighting”, this form of professional fighting was unique – it had very few rules. In fact, just one year prior at UFC 3, a referee stoppage was allowed for the first time in a UFC fight. By the time UFC 7 aired on PPV, viewers who tuned in to watch had seen it all. This included, but was not limited to: unanswered groin shots, good old fashioned strangling, and one of the most boring professional fights of all time (to this day). Remember, the only rules in the UFC at this time were no biting or eye gouging. Outweighed by 90 pounds, Brazilian “King Of The Streets” Marco Ruas is standing across the cage from a 300 pound behemoth, Paul Varelans. While Marco is known for his jiu jitsu prowess at this time, he came to the United States as one of the very first fighters to have a well rounded skill set. Varelans is more of a wrestler, with some training in Taekwondo and Boxing. Both of these fighters have competed twice on this evening, defeated their opponents, and are now facing each other in the championship fight. 

    The bell rings and Varelans charges towards Ruas. After a brief exchange, Marco does something unusual – he kicks Paul Varelans’ leg. That’s right. Marco Ruas takes his own leg and uses it as a whip, ripping right into the meat of Varelans’ hamstring muscle. It doesn’t seem to affect Varelans too much, as he keeps pressing forward looking for openings to land strikes. Eventually Varelans takes notice of these kicks, switching to a southpaw stance after Ruas lands several early on. At a few points, Varelans even attempts to “check” these kicks of Ruas by simply lifting his lead leg. This doesn’t seem to discourage Marco from throwing them, as he continues to slam these kicks into Varelans’ thigh. After some clinching and work in close, the two fighters are separated and back to striking.

    Again, Ruas starts crushing Paul’s lead leg. Varelans’ leg gives out and he hits the mat. Ruas swarms him and at the same time, Varelans’ corner is throwing in the towel. Marco Ruas just won the UFC 7 tournament. Now you might be asking yourself, what just happened? In a fight with only two rules, there are a thousand ways to lose. Punches or kicks to the head. A flying armbar. Elbows on the ground. Hell, a piledriver that results in a knockout. Instead, we got a guy who fell over from being kicked in the leg a bunch of times. This technique is called a “low kick”. Low kicks have been around for a long time, and have been taught in disciplines such as Kyokushin Karate and Muay Thai for many years. However, this was the first time in No-Holds-Barred that we saw these kicks used in ALL of their destructive glory.

    Maurice Smith landing a low kick on Steve Tremblay in a 1987 WKA Championship fight 

    Marco was already 34 when he made his UFC debut, so you might be asking, how did he learn all of these skills, and become so proficient at them so early on? Although so far we have focused on low kicks, we are only looking at them to help us understand the rise of a broader skill set in NHB – Brazilian Muay Thai. By the time Marco Ruas fought in America in 1995, he was an experienced fighter. He competed in Boxing, Muay Thai, and mixed rules bouts throughout the 80s and 90s in Brazil, promoting and teaching his proprietary art of “Ruas Vale Tudo”. Marco started training Judo at the age of 13 years old under his uncle Vinicius Ruas, who allowed Marco to train at his academy for free. He then moved on to Boxing and eventually became the state champion in Rio. Ruas started his Muay Thai training in 1979, at the age of 18. He was a student of Luiz Alves at the very first Muay Thai academy in Brazil: Academia Naja. Around the same age, Marco began learning Wrestling, Jiu Jitsu, and Luta Livre. He was also one of the first fighters from Brazil to crosstrain in striking and grappling techniques, as most martial artists were dogmatic about their discipline at that time, particularly Jiu Jitsu practitioners. When Marco finally fought in the UFC, it didn’t just prove his skills were legitimate on a global scale, it also gave him a surge in popularity not yet reached in his home country.

    Photo by Buda Mendes/LatinContent via Getty Images

    Marco has lived in the United States since the late 1990s, and still teaches his brand of Vale Tudo at an MMA academy in California. To understand all of this in a historical context, we have to travel back in time. In the next part of this series, we will explore the origins of Muay Thai in Brazil, and what ultimately led to Muay Thai being such a force in 1990s No-Holds-Barred, all the way up to now.

    References:

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marco_Ruas

    https://tomacelliacademy.com/