When he enters the cage June 1 on the WEC undercard, Mark Munoz (Pictures) will be yet another obscure mixed martial artist hoping to change his status with a breakout performance. Facing 13-3 Chuck Grigsby, Munoz will be eyeing a 6-foot-6 foe -- who went 8-1 last year alone -- with vast advantages in standup striking. On paper, it seems a bit of a mismatch in terms of experience.

"He has a lot of power punches," Munoz said. "That's why I've placed a lot of focus on being a boxer, moving like a boxer and slipping inside, getting my clinches and takedowns. I know he's lost to wrestlers. That's a plus."

A big plus.

For if the opinions of better-known fighters count for anything, Munoz, unbeaten in three bouts, might give fans something to remember given the prowess he's already shown working out with some of the best in the game. An NCAA 197-pound champion in 2001 for Oklahoma State, Munoz holds the wrestler's advantage that could be an effective trump card.

"He's really quick and he knows what hard work's about," said former UFC champ Tito Ortiz (Pictures), who hosted Munoz at Big Bear earlier this month as the two trained together along with several other fighters in recent weeks. Part of the rotating cast at Ortiz's high-altitude camp has included Ricco Rodriguez (Pictures), Scott Smith, Dean Lister (Pictures), Joe Riggs (Pictures) and others.

"He's got a very open mind. He's a very dominating wrestler, he learns really quick at jiu-jitsu, and his standup game's gotten a lot better," Ortiz added. "He has a chance to be a world champion in one and a half or two years. It comes down to hard work and dedication. He's done so well at the college level. There's not many guys that can call themselves a national champ."

Or listen to UFC light heavyweight James "Sandman" Irvin, fresh off his eight-second stoppage of Houston Alexander (Pictures). As teammates on the Capital City Fighting Alliance, they've spent plenty of time butting heads and pushing one another to the limit in training.

"In terms of just wrestling, he's technically the most frustrating guy I've rolled with," said Irvin, who has trained with Ortiz, Quinton Jackson (Pictures), Brandon Vera (Pictures) and Randy Couture (Pictures). "It's like your dad whipping your ass when you're 8 or 9 years old. He'll grab you and rag doll you. It's kinda discouraging, someone your same size and same age, and he just makes you feel helpless. As soon as we have more MMA tools it's a different fight, but he's so smothering and strong."

And there's the short take from Urijah Faber (Pictures) -- who defends his WEC featherweight title in the main event that night against Jens Pulver (Pictures) -- a Cap City teammate who pestered Munoz for years to enter MMA:

"He is a badass."

At first glance, Munoz, married and a father of four, seems almost too mellow to be an ex-college wrestler, much less a mixed martial artist. After finishing his college career seven years ago, he fell back on the reliable venues available -- coaching wrestling (he was an assistant at U.C. Davis, where he met Faber) and teaching clinics as a side gig.

After a standout high school career in Vallejo, Calif., where he was a two-time California Interscholastic Champ at 189 pounds, Munoz went to OSU. Run by legendary coach John Smith, the program has won 34 NCAA championships and produced a stream of All-Americans on an annual basis.

It's also where Munoz, eager to challenge himself at the next level, ran into what would be his toughest opponent in college -- making weight. Filling slots in a wrestling roster is a balancing act, and when Munoz learned early on he would have a spot in the lineup at 167 pounds, he took on the challenge. But at a steep price. His walking-around weight was 205, he was 18 years old, and his new weight class was 22 grueling pounds south of where he'd competed in high school.

"It was a different time in wrestling. They were taking advantage of every opportunity to have an edge on your opponent," Munoz recalled. "I cut to 167 my true freshman year. When John Smith asks you something, he says, ‘Jump,' and you pretty much say, ‘How high?'"

Munoz' trim-down regimen consisted of three sessions a day, which he describes as a "three-to-four pound practice," or "five-to-six pound practice," depending on what drills and the level of exertion required. He'd shed the weight, hit the books, eat minimally, if at all, weigh himself constantly, then return to workouts for more, despite constant hunger and privation. The will to get down to the weight carried him through that first early season, then the second, where he competed at 177 -- still too low to allow him to keep his strength as the year marched on and he kept filling out.

"Everything he told me to do, I did with all my heart," Munoz said. "My sophomore year, three wrestlers died. It was the whole weight-cutting and creatine thing. I beat a lot of ranked opponents those first two years. I was ranked top five in the nation and top four my sophomore year, but I didn't place at Nationals. You had to make weight all three days. I didn't have the strength to finish my matches. After Nationals, I didn't want to show my face. I didn't want anybody seeing me. I'm a disgrace to the Oklahoma State program. I couldn't place at Nationals and I can't even finish the deal. I couldn't walk up to John Smith and talk to him. I felt that I had let him down."

Weight-cutting-related tragedies in college wrestling enacted revisions to weight classes and rules for making poundage limits, and 167 was replaced by the 174-pound division. Munoz was also competing at 184 in open tournaments. His pending junior year of 2000 didn't seem any more appealing, though.

Before he left for home that summer, Smith called him in with the news -- Munoz would compete at 174 to fill the logical slot available to him in the OSU lineup.

"I was competing as high as 184, and I was weighing 215. I said ‘I can't do it.' For two hours we argued back and forth," Munoz said. "I finally said, fine, you're right."