Roughly a year following his much-publicized appearance in the octagon -- and unfortunate misuse of the word "f--k" as a lurid verb --
Wanderlei Silva (Pictures) has finally arrived stateside.
(That collective sigh of relief you hear is from Japan's 180-pound sacrificial lamb contingent -- their health insurance premiums just went way, way down.)
For virtually everyone inside a Las Vegas or So Cal arena, Silva presents a demonic apparition that seems genetically engineered for destruction. He appears to be another species entirely:
canus asskickus. And while his English may not be perfect, it's better than
Tito Ortiz (Pictures)'s.
A couple of
UFC Countdown shows and perhaps an
All-Access -- wherein we witness Silva train by hunting and killing his own dinner -- and the general public should be plenty invested in his exploits.
Long rumored to oppose
Chuck Liddell (Pictures), the UFC may consider postponing the bout until one man holds the light heavyweight title, restoring some of the luster to a fantasy-league fight that was previously only possible in video games.
Regardless of that meeting, both Silvas (matchmaker Joe and Wanderlei) have their choice of big fights in the coming years. Some must-haves, some buzzkills, and one question mark:
Silva's upright attack could be best described as possessing the qualities one enjoys in a chainsaw: he's fast, violent, and if you get in his way, you're likely to wind up on the floor in a bloody heap of EMT bait.
This is
Chuck Liddell (Pictures)'s idea of heaven: an opponent that wades right in, fires off strikes with the efficiency of an Uzi, and leaves their chin unprotected. Liddell's defense is his best offense, meeting incoming assaults with return fire that comes from dozens of weird angles. His counter-punching has ruined the likes of
Vernon White,
Renato Sobral (Pictures), and
Randy Couture (Pictures).
A fight probably best left to Silva's final bout on his contract, it stands an excellent chance of being the most exciting 30 seconds since my prom night.
Watching Jackson dispatch Liddell probably left puddles of drool on Silva's couch: having twice bested Jackson, "Rampage" is likely his preferred candidate when it comes time to challenge for the UFC title.
While Silva might mourn the loss of his orbital-cracking foot stomps, they weren't especially useful against Jackson, who isn't easy to keep on his back. The U.S. rules structure could have more of an impact when it comes to elbows: Jackson was able to keep Silva down for extended periods in their first two fights, and supplementing that positional control with lacerating strikes could pose a problem for Silva, who has more scar tissue on his face than Rocky Dennis.
Sobral and Silva have a shared alchemy that would accomplish several things: in a debut fight, it would give Silva a credible opponent with a respected name. In deference to spectators, both possess solid jiu-jitsu in the absence of above-average wrestling, which means no plodding canvas work. And while Silva is easily the more aggressive striker, he would still have to work to get inside the crafty Sobral's defense.
Holding an even record in eight UFC contests, Sobral is a solid performer, but not insurmountable for a fighter coming off a year's layoff. It's a solid pick for Silva's proposed December bow.
Presented purely as a concession to UFC's strange obsession with rematches no one ever really asks for (Horn vs. Sonnen; Sonnen vs. Sobral; Nogueira vs. Herring), a Van Arsdale-Silva replay would pay a kind of homage to the old-school era of Brazilian no-holds-barred contests.
Having met nearly nine years ago to the day, Silva has sharpened his caffeine-pill attack, while Van Arsdale took four years off and came back to only mixed results. Though the decorated wrestler has the skills to get Silva down, it would be a stretch to stay busy enough not to get interrupted by the referee. And at 42-years of age, Van Arsdale might not have the constitution to go three hard rounds.
In terms of a "let's see Silva seriously damage someone" introduction, it's a fairly safe path to Schadenfreude.
Referring back to the wolverines-in-a-burlap-sack analogy of columns past, Silva taking on relative newcomer Alexander would be a furiously paced bout, hitting the ground only when one of them finally drops.
Does it make sense for the UFC? A rising star, Alexander could probably use some further grooming before entering Thunderdome. On the other hand, a loss to someone as iconic as Silva would likely do little to damage his reputation. And the UFC would have an instant sensation at a bargain price.
It's a risky proposition only for Silva, who could invite a loss to someone who hasn't yet proven himself as a top-tier athlete. Then again, the same could be said for Mirko Cro Cop and
Eddie Sanchez, or -- more unfortunately --
Gabriel Gonzaga (Pictures).
A fight's a fight, and no promotion should be paranoid about making a good one happen simply because one participant is getting the lion's share of the purse. This one has illegal fireworks written all over it.
Mind-numbingly defensive on the feet and blanketing on the ground, any one of these guys could very well edge out Silva on the judge's cards. In addition to smothering Silva's momentum on the record ledgers, they would serve only to underwhelm fans expecting Silva's hyped fist-to-face strategy.
Bad, bad ideas.
A fellow Chute Boxe graduate, the dimpled Rua is Silva 2.0: younger, faster, and spared the battle fatigue of two dozen wars in the ring. Considering that both have displayed a mastery of pummeling champion Jackson in the past, it seems very plausible that they'll be forced to contend for the UFC belt in the next 12-18 months.
But a potential dynamic that would fuel ticket sales -- former training partners turned rivals -- is the exact same component that would call into question the validity of their efforts. Even if both athletes went full throttle, any kind of bizarre occurrence in the ring -- a slip, a quick submission, a wink -- would be construed as collusion. (Witness the imbeciles who ranted that
Ken Shamrock (Pictures) threw the fight against
Rich Franklin (Pictures) because his middle-aged legs, tortured after 15 years of leg submissions and pro wrestling, gave out beneath him.)
At just 25 years of age -- "a baby," some would say, albeit one that could rip your arms off and feed them to you -- Shogun probably hasn't reached his physical maturation peak yet. It's not inconceivable that we could see him as a heavyweight; standout
Brandon Vera (Pictures), at 220 pounds, is proof that you don't need an outsized frame to excel in that class.
Vera vs. Rua? Silva vs. Liddell? The UFC's current roster reads like Dana White's once-implausible Rolodex made animate. Here's hoping he makes the right calls.
For comments, email jrossen@sherdog.com
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