Well, the headline is kind of self explanatory, but it wouldn’t be much of an article if I didn’t elaborate. For me to care about something – a book, an album, a celebrity… a fighter – I have to be emotionally invested in them, at least a little bit. I believe this is true of most people, albeit to varying degrees.
That emotional investment can come in all shapes and sizes: someone is from the same town as you, walks out to your favourite song, suffered the same hardships as you. Or maybe you just like the cut of their jib, perhaps they make you laugh in UFC pressers, or their Instagram makes for obsessive following.
Part of the reason I believe this is because it’s my job. I work in PR and I believe that people have to have a connection with a story for them to care about it. But of course, no two people are the same so how do you create a story that appeals to everybody? Realistically, you can’t, so you need multiple stories to sell one “product”, which is, in theory, not difficult as people (fighters) are multifaceted folk with many flaws and virtues to their characters.
I’ve heard it said about MMA that it’s such a shame that somebody has to lose. I feel this acutely in situations like Michael Bisping vs. Dan Henderson – there are two stories there, and both can’t end happily.
Bisping 100% should have won, in Manchester, in front of his “home” crowd, an unlikely champion! Go Bisping!
Henderson deserved to go out on a high. An athlete who had broken records (including being the oldest fighter to compete for a UFC title!), held several belts – sometimes two at once, and been a true pioneer in the sport of mixed martial arts. At 46-years-old, with his intentions already very clear, a win wouldn’t have lured him back to the Octagon again; wouldn’t it have been nice to lay down his gloves on the canvas for the last time, next to the belt?
The second scenario also opens up exciting options for the now (fictionally) vacant belt of course, which always makes a story more interesting.
There aren’t many happy Hollywood endings in MMA – nobody who reaches the dizzy heights ever retires undefeated, many don’t recognise when their time is up before it’s too late. Some know and aren’t ready to let go just yet. But nobody gets out of there alive. Metaphorically, at least.
Sometimes I don’t know how badly I yearn for that Hollywood ending until the fight starts. Surrounded by people actually booing Henderson in Manchester, I swiftly started rooting for him. Just this past weekend, it was only when BJ Penn’s head started wobbling around that I started praying for a miracle.
Occasionally there’s less cause for concern. When Urijah Faber announced that the Sacramento card in December would be his final run out, he couldn’t have hoped for a better suited opponent than Brad Pickett. Not some young buck out to claim a scalp; if things had gone the other way, you know Pickett would have been gentlemanly and handed the mic to Urijah to let him say his goodbyes. It was a win-win situation, even if a loss had been on the cards.
But the stories that are much harder to get behind are, ironically for me, the stories that the PRs are desperate to push on us. Look no further than Paige and Sage; the UFC’s great white hopes. Not only do they fail to deliver when it matters most, their cookie cutter, all-American toothyness simply does not appeal universally.
Paige VanZant was most likeable after her loss to Rose Namajunas a little over a year ago, when during the press conference she looked genuinely shellshocked. She showed a human side, with her bottom lip wobbling and tears welling up in her eyes – the embarrassment, the heartbreak and the fatigue were all there on show. Following her latest loss – only her second in the UFC, but also her second as the main attraction – there was less visible vulnerability as she brushed off sympathy and plastered on a made-for-the-limelight smile.
Even athletes with little understanding of public relations know that there has to be a talking point around a fight. It’s why you’ll see a flurry of semi-confrontational tweets between two relatively unknown UK fighters on a local promotion’s undercard, once their fight has been scheduled. But it’s also why we’re all still interested in seeing Jones vs. Cormier 2.
Fight stats aside, I can find out more about the Octagon girls than I can about a fighter on the UFC app. For a long time Jhenny (the scourge of autocorrect) was my favourite because she listed her favourite food as McDonalds, whereas every other girl on there said sushi. Some other trendsetters have since been added, and I take great delight in Camila’s stroganoff, and Vanessa’s nachos. There is a chance I’m reading too much into this…
Every time a fighter comes face-to-face with a microphone they have the opportunity to write their own story. For every dull question they’re asked over and over, they can choose to answer however they like. They don’t have to be backed into a corner by other people’s lack of imagination, and they don’t have to be trapped into a narrative that doesn’t represent them fully.
Fighters need to capitalise on this for the UFC to realise that the best stories are the ones rooted in the truth, and the ones that develop organically. It’s only then that you add a sprinkling of PR magic to bring the stories to life. It doesn’t guarantee a Hollywood ending, but it does increase the chances of leaving a lasting impression.
