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The Future of Fedor
The moment Fedor
Emelianenko steps off the mat at the conclusion of Aug. 1’s
Affliction event in Anaheim, Calif., he will be free to do as he
pleases.
It could be argued that Emelianenko is always free to do as he pleases.
A professional mixed martial artist since May 2000, Emelianenko (and his handlers) has never allowed himself to become a commodity that exists purely in the service of a promotional brand. A nearly two-year stint in the more physically restrictive Rings organization -- asking Emelianenko not to punch someone in the face on the ground is not unlike asking Roger Federer to not hit the ball -- positioned him for a Pride stint. But not even that notoriously manipulative organization could bend him too far: He once briefly bolted for a rival New Year’s Eve fight special in 2003. (Imagine Chuck Liddell, at the height of his popularity and holding a UFC title, fighting for Strikeforce. On the same night as a UFC broadcast.)
In control of a man thought to be the toughest in the world, Emelianenko’s managers can demand appreciable sums and awkward contract addendums that would make any employer’s day difficult. He must fight in regularly scheduled combat sambo competitions, an only slightly diluted form of MMA that holds potential for injury. He must remain in collusion with M-1 Global, an ambiguous promotional entity that piggybacks on Emelianenko’s contracts and finances. He must have cold potato soup in his locker room at all times. And on and on.
As someone who rarely looks human in the ring, Emelianenko is one of the few combat athletes worth the trouble. If Affliction’s alleged pay-per-view buyrates of 100,000 or more per show are accurate, it would mean that his presence has fueled one of the genuine MMA event success stories in the states: Virtually all of the UFC’s competition since 1994 has arrived in very flammable condition. (Even Brock Lesnar, deprived of the UFC’s hype engine, drew virtually no attention in his 2007 MMA debut on pay television.)
But modest success is not a proper reward for massive expenditure, and Affliction will have a hard time justifying their continued fight presence. “Better than most” isn’t the same as “good,” and even 300,000 buys wouldn’t warrant their salary sheet. Affliction Vice President Tom Atencio has put a marker on Emelianenko’s Aug. 1 bout with Josh Barnett, saying that the event needs to perform above and beyond in order to keep his athletes employed.
That may or may not happen when you consider that Emelianenko’s previous two Affliction opponents were coming off of protracted UFC employment and all of the exposure that it creates. Barnett, in contrast, has spent years competing overseas and looked somewhat flat against Gilbert Yvel in January. The “hardcore” fans -- who would buy the event regardless -- are excited, and should be: It’s a terrific fight. But whether that enthusiasm will infect the general public is a suspect premise.
If Affliction folds -- and it’s impossible to believe they’ll continue spending the money they do -- there are decisions to be made by Emelianenko’s management. Does he want to settle into a promotional home, or does he wish to be a mercenary, taking fights on a one-off basis while cradling a vapid WAMMA heavyweight title?
There is more money to be made in the UFC than anywhere, no question. Their business structure can support paydays for top-level talent into the millions, and corporate America is at the lip of accepting the sport as a viable promotional tool. He’d make more money in endorsements. He’d make money with merchandise, and video game revenue, and seminars, and personal appearances. He can do some of these things now, but the UFC is the key to American profit. He has the rest of the world covered.
My best, haphazard guess: Affliction makes a discreet exit from the arena business. Emelianenko returns to Japan for a New Year’s Eve bout against a medical tragedy. The UFC tries valiantly to reach a deal with him, but M-1’s forced participation makes everyone’s life difficult. Emelianenko takes a fight or two in Japan, makes a mistake, loses and suddenly it’s not such a story anymore.
In the end, Emelianenko is just a fighter. And the reason Dana White and the UFC’s boardroom is so reluctant to handle his baggage is because they’re very aware of that. He could lose his first UFC fight or his fourth, but he will eventually lose.
There’s a limit to the trouble you’ll go through to get a nice car that’s almost predestined for a wreck.
For comments, e-mail jrossen@sherdog.com
It could be argued that Emelianenko is always free to do as he pleases.
A professional mixed martial artist since May 2000, Emelianenko (and his handlers) has never allowed himself to become a commodity that exists purely in the service of a promotional brand. A nearly two-year stint in the more physically restrictive Rings organization -- asking Emelianenko not to punch someone in the face on the ground is not unlike asking Roger Federer to not hit the ball -- positioned him for a Pride stint. But not even that notoriously manipulative organization could bend him too far: He once briefly bolted for a rival New Year’s Eve fight special in 2003. (Imagine Chuck Liddell, at the height of his popularity and holding a UFC title, fighting for Strikeforce. On the same night as a UFC broadcast.)
In control of a man thought to be the toughest in the world, Emelianenko’s managers can demand appreciable sums and awkward contract addendums that would make any employer’s day difficult. He must fight in regularly scheduled combat sambo competitions, an only slightly diluted form of MMA that holds potential for injury. He must remain in collusion with M-1 Global, an ambiguous promotional entity that piggybacks on Emelianenko’s contracts and finances. He must have cold potato soup in his locker room at all times. And on and on.
As someone who rarely looks human in the ring, Emelianenko is one of the few combat athletes worth the trouble. If Affliction’s alleged pay-per-view buyrates of 100,000 or more per show are accurate, it would mean that his presence has fueled one of the genuine MMA event success stories in the states: Virtually all of the UFC’s competition since 1994 has arrived in very flammable condition. (Even Brock Lesnar, deprived of the UFC’s hype engine, drew virtually no attention in his 2007 MMA debut on pay television.)
But modest success is not a proper reward for massive expenditure, and Affliction will have a hard time justifying their continued fight presence. “Better than most” isn’t the same as “good,” and even 300,000 buys wouldn’t warrant their salary sheet. Affliction Vice President Tom Atencio has put a marker on Emelianenko’s Aug. 1 bout with Josh Barnett, saying that the event needs to perform above and beyond in order to keep his athletes employed.
That may or may not happen when you consider that Emelianenko’s previous two Affliction opponents were coming off of protracted UFC employment and all of the exposure that it creates. Barnett, in contrast, has spent years competing overseas and looked somewhat flat against Gilbert Yvel in January. The “hardcore” fans -- who would buy the event regardless -- are excited, and should be: It’s a terrific fight. But whether that enthusiasm will infect the general public is a suspect premise.
If Affliction folds -- and it’s impossible to believe they’ll continue spending the money they do -- there are decisions to be made by Emelianenko’s management. Does he want to settle into a promotional home, or does he wish to be a mercenary, taking fights on a one-off basis while cradling a vapid WAMMA heavyweight title?
There is more money to be made in the UFC than anywhere, no question. Their business structure can support paydays for top-level talent into the millions, and corporate America is at the lip of accepting the sport as a viable promotional tool. He’d make more money in endorsements. He’d make money with merchandise, and video game revenue, and seminars, and personal appearances. He can do some of these things now, but the UFC is the key to American profit. He has the rest of the world covered.
My best, haphazard guess: Affliction makes a discreet exit from the arena business. Emelianenko returns to Japan for a New Year’s Eve bout against a medical tragedy. The UFC tries valiantly to reach a deal with him, but M-1’s forced participation makes everyone’s life difficult. Emelianenko takes a fight or two in Japan, makes a mistake, loses and suddenly it’s not such a story anymore.
In the end, Emelianenko is just a fighter. And the reason Dana White and the UFC’s boardroom is so reluctant to handle his baggage is because they’re very aware of that. He could lose his first UFC fight or his fourth, but he will eventually lose.
There’s a limit to the trouble you’ll go through to get a nice car that’s almost predestined for a wreck.
For comments, e-mail jrossen@sherdog.com
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