Issue 132
September 2015
Fighters Only editor Nick Peet considers the implications of the UFC’s latest innovations.
When the UFC’s array of champions and box office draws stepped out onto the catwalk in New York City last month to present the new Reebok-supplied athlete uniforms to the world, my heart sank a little. Not because of the designs on show, after all I’d expected as much. But because I’d hoped for so much more.
When I conversed with Todd Krinsky, the Reebok VP at the center of the UFC deal, for a Fighters Only interview earlier this year, he explained just how Reebok’s new designs would be “revolutionary” in terms of fight sports attire and warned the MMA world to “get ready to be blown away” when the kit was finally unveiled.
Well, Todd, sorry, but blown away is hardly the feeling both I and most fans it seems experienced while gawping as the Octagon’s finest were put on parade in the Big Apple. Let’s be honest here, the Reebok-UFC kit is plainer than a Polish pin-up.
But, you know what, that was to be expected. At the start of the year, when the UFC announced it had sold its athlete-outfitting program to Reebok and confirmed the sportswear giant would be kitting out all of the promotion’s roster of stars in a bid to make the whole organization look more “professional” and “brand aware,” individualism was put on notice.
Kits or uniforms aren’t about individuals, they’re about presenting a look and a design that’s clearly identifiable to one organization or another. So I was ready for the kit to feature rudimentary designs with simple color-coded flashes. It was predictable and complaining about it afterwards just highlights the fact you failed to comprehend the word ‘uniform’ when the deal was first announced.
My biggest disappointment was in that I also expected a range of individual athlete gear too. Where was the ‘Rowdy’ Ronda Rousey Big Bear Fight Camp hoodie? Or the ‘Mac Mansion 2015’ official Conor McGregor camp gear? The problem with the Reebok launch was that it was all too basic and strait-laced. It did nothing in terms of truly garnering fans’ attention.
I can’t imagine Wanderlei Silva, BJ Penn or Tito Ortiz decked out in the Reebok apparel. And perhaps that’s exactly what you’d hoped to read if you’re a Zuffa employee. But, from a fan’s point of view, that statement is not a positive.
MMA, like all other fight sports, is made so much more appealing by the manner in which the athletes express themselves – both inside and outside the ring or cage. The unpredictability of the aforementioned icons registered with fight fans, who clamored for merchandise featuring signature designs.
And while the sport has moved on dramatically already – the days of T-shirts featuring blood-dripping daggers, flames and fighting dragons are now thankfully long gone – having identity with an individual, much more than just a name running down the back shoulder, remains a high commodity. Or at least I thought as much.
Two of the most exciting new brands in fight sports apparel today are Roots of Fight and Virus. The former has made a fortune by revisiting vintage fight camp gear from legends like Penn, Mike Tyson and Muhammad Ali. While the latter, much more of a performance wear supplier – perhaps far similar to Reebok’s UFC range – simply can’t stock enough of its Cub Swanson branded series to meet demand.
Fans would have been falling over themselves during International Fight Week last month had Reebok jumped the gun and also brought out ranges of quality individual gear too. The UFC uniforms are what they are and have been designed with a specific purpose in mind: brand identity rather than athlete individuality.
What the new Reebok range does highlight more than ever is that the three letters at the epicenter of this all are the most important thing. The names of each of the athletes, champion or not, are secondary to the power and attraction of the brand. And for that, doesn’t MMA becomes a little less alluring?
It’s the personalities and performances that drive fans to the pay-per-views, not the Octagon alone. And so removing all manner of identity from the stage show is another step in the wrong direction when comparing today’s UFC with the much-celebrated, often over-the-top spectacular that was Pride.
While the blue-chip sponsors may very well fall over themselves now for a slice of the UFC’s rudimentary outfits, it’s worth remembering one thing: fans come for the fights, but they stay for the show.
