I've Never Been Happier To Be Wrong

"My head says 'Fighter X', but my heart is with 'Fighter Y'".

When you analyze how you think an MMA fight will turn out, the standard custom is to break down the mechanics involved with the melee, illustrate each fighter's strengths, and try to estimate how these compare to one another while taking in a litany of other variables: such as size, skill, cardio, and past performances.

This is, of course, the Cliff's notes version of the process. This is not, however, the way MMA was ingrained into my life.

No matter how much I enjoy observing the way fluid footwork creates opportunities for technical striking, or how strategic ground technique leads to guard passes and submission opportunites... I love Mixed Martial Arts for the fighters and their individual performances. Some may have felt reverberations or some version of this when watching the rather random looking, skinny Brazilian wearing the "karate suit" in the early UFC's proceed to tear the limbs off each of his unfortunate adversaries.

A personal example for me was gritting my teeth through the Jerry Bohlander versus Scott Ferrozzo fight at UFC 8, wondering how a meek looking 200-pounder was going to survive against a 320 pound, barrel-chested caveman who was effortlessly manhandling the former, and seemingly doing so without serious effort.  After being ragdolled and pummeled for what seemed like an eternity, the wily Bohlander caused a scramble and somehow ended up in a dominant position with his arms snaked around the fleshy stump that was Scott Ferrozzo's neck, forcing a dramatic tapout in a very emotional come-from-behind victory.

Its those moments, when you burst off of your couch like a rocket from a launchpad, screeching like a schoolgirl and clapping like a cheerleader, that make MMA a part of your soul.

Although I had argued for years that Minotauro would beat Randy Couture, on account of his height combined with his solid boxing and his phenomenal BJJ bottom and top game, I predicted Randy Couture to win the fight based on recent showings--and did so with a very heavy heart.  Too many times in the past, I told myself after a fight that I was relying too much on what my heart was telling me, and that if I would have better studied certain aspects of a fighter's style or placed more importance on a particular past performance that I felt was relevant, I would have properly predicted the outcome.  Logic should outweigh emotion, right?

Last night, as both fighters were making their entrances for one of the most significant fights in the sport's history, something was... off for me.

Although I don't dislike Randy, Big Nog has always exemplified what I think MMA should be.  He's provided MMA fans with so many of those beautifully defining moments of class and athletic amazement that I actually felt guilty I was about to watch the fight thinking that Randy Couture would emerge victorious.  That thought in itself was already dulling the sheen and removing some of the glamour from what everyone knew was going to be a monumentally significant MMA collision.

"I don't give a shit about my prediction," I said aloud to the empty room with a suddenly overwhelming sense of conviction.  "Nog is going to win this fucking fight!"

And instead of solemnly waiting for that moment when my hopes were crushed by a thunderous takedown from Randy, where the action would stall and he would begin peppering Nog's face with short hammerfists and elbows, I clenched my fists and bit my lip, and had to cover my mouth in order to muffle my shrieks of excitement that would surely wake everyone in the house up if I hadn't, and I stood in front of the television and shadowboxed along with the action like a hyperactive kid watching his favorite Superman cartoon.

I wanted Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira to win that fight with everything I had in my heart, and despite the mechanics, the analysis, or the fact that sometimes your fighter loses in these situations- that's what MMA is all about.  Its fighters like Nogueira and Couture, and what they inspire in you, that makes this the greatest sport in the world.