It's Time!: My 360-Degree View of the UFC
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
If you’re reading these words, chances are that you, like me, are a fan of the great sport we call MMA.
And if you’re a fan, then you probably recognize my face.
Yeah, that’s right—I’m that guy you see at every UFC match, spinning around and roaring into the microphone and getting up in fighters’ grills.
Okay, so I might not be the most subtle or refined announcer in the business. But I hope I communicate my passion for the sport in a way no other announcer does.
I’ll say it again: Passion. Because that’s what this book is about.
In these pages, I want to tell you about the passion that first led me to bet everything on this sport of ours, way back when MMA was outlawed in half the country and there wasn’t a dime to be made on it. I want to tell you how that passion all started, with my larger-than-life father, a former Marine Drill Sergeant who, by the time I was ten, had taught me to play poker and blackjack, field-strip a Luger pistol blindfolded, and recite poetry. He was a man who thought nothing of confronting a group of thugs armed with nothing but his fists—and who expected the same strength and honor from his sons.
I want to take you inside the incredible brotherhood that makes up the UFC as nobody ever has before, to tell you about the bond we all share and the crazy times I’ve had over the years with guys like Randy Couture, Tito Ortiz, Chuck Liddell, BJ Penn, and Jon “Bones” Jones. I want to give you my Octagon-side insights on many of the big fights you remember, and just maybe, to tell you about a few memorable fights that took place outside of the octagon, too—from my own sparring match with a youngster named Royce Gracie back before the phrase “Mixed Martial Arts” even existed, to some other brawls you might’ve heard about.
And I want to tell you about the remarkable, late-life meeting with the celebrity brother I never knew I had—a brother whose existence my parents had never once breathed a word about!—that helped inspire me to chase my own dreams of standing up in the Octagon.
Surprising stuff from the guy in the fancy tux, right? And that’s just the start. There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet.
And now… IT’S TIME! I told you.
Dreamcast video game console along with nine other Dreamcast video games. The reception was huge. How huge? Within the first twenty-four hours, the Dreamcast console and its ten video games racked up $97.5 million in sales. Variety magazine noted that this package set a new record in Hollywood history, racking up the most sales of an entertainment product in a twenty-four-hour period ever. It was a huge success for me, the biggest mark I’d made in my business career up to that point. One day,
heck is.” BUFFERISM NO. 6 “WARRIOR SPIRIT FOREVER!” What does a warrior do? He fights to his last breath. When he’s knocked down, he gets up and tries to win the war with whatever it takes, until he’s dead, physically or mentally. I approach everything I do with that same warrior spirit. It’s the only way to live. Otherwise, what’s the point? I didn’t know it that day, of course, but all four of the Gracie brothers would become MMA legends and instrumental in the birth of the UFC. The
a lot of guys who leave the military, he struggled to find himself when he hung up his uniform. Between the wars he was a debt collector. Later he became a businessman, an entrepreneur, and a VP of sales of various companies. He did not graduate from high school or college to achieve any of this. He was self-taught. He had a knack for salesmanship, but it didn’t make him terribly happy. You could say that behind my father’s tough-guy persona dwelt the soul of an artist. In those days, when you
“but thanks for the compliment, Champ.” I think he’s missing out on some great fights, but I’ve come to understand that kind of response. WWE’s John Cena once told me the same thing, which surprised me. Clearly, a lot of people feel threatened by the sport of MMA and its skyrocketing popularity. I see their reaction as comparing apples and oranges; boxing and pro wrestling are not MMA. But a lot of people simply don’t know how to respond to the rise of MMA other than to take potshots at the
and started throwing punches. I managed to work my way on top and up to the mount. Though I didn’t know the term then, I ground-and-pounded him into bloody submission. “Fight over due to strikes,” or a KO, as we would say in the Octagon. When I was done with him, he was not a pretty sight. His blood was everywhere—in the sand, on my clothes. My new Pendleton shirt was ripped to pieces and hanging from my shoulders. The crowd was cheering, but there was no glory in it for me. I didn’t ask for