Issue 106
October 2013
Former Fighters Only World MMA Awards ‘Journalist of the Year’ John Morgan defends the legacy of the former middleweight champ.
In the weeks leading up to the now-legendary July matchup between Chris Weidman and Anderson Silva, I muttered a few words that the UFC used in their pre-fight marketing materials. ‘Put simply,’ I said at the time, ‘Anderson Silva is the greatest fighter in the history of mixed martial arts.’ The quote featured prominently on
UFC.com for several weeks leading up to the title fight.
Weidman, of course, then went out and dispatched of Silva in emphatic fashion, scoring a second-round knockout after catching ‘The Spider’ getting a little too comfortable in his showboating routine. But you know what? I still stand behind my claim. I think the argument for best pound-for-pound fighter in the world at this moment comes down to either Jon Jones or Georges St Pierre, but for my money, Silva is still the greatest of all time.
It’s easy to simply cite hard data, but I don’t think numbers tell the whole story. Sure, 10 consecutive title defenses, 16 straight UFC wins, an astonishing 2,458 days spent as kingpin of the UFC’s middleweight division are marks never before seen in the promotion’s 20-year history. Current title-holders GSP and Jones both have an opportunity to match or eclipse those marks, but Silva was there first. Yet understanding Silva’s greatness is an exercise that requires watching the master craftsman at work and not simply cataloging his completed works.
There are those who remain critical of Silva’s performance at UFC 162 – observers who say his cocky demeanor was that of a man who deserved to be laid out cold on the canvas. I can’t say I disagree more. It was that incredible style that made Silva such an incredible talent.
He didn’t just beat you. He stood there with his hands by his side and demoralized you, letting you see you had absolutely no business being in the cage with him. Once that reality set in, he mercilessly picked you apart with precision striking and devastating power.
Ask recent UFC Hall of Fame inductees Forrest Griffin and Stephan Bonnar what that Silva bravado did to their fighting spirits. Both wilted in front of such displays, and it ultimately led to their demise. Did Silva’s taunting hand positioning ultimately leave his chin available for the touching? Sure, it did. But it was that same flair that made him a star.
Besides, pinning the entire result on Silva’s carelessness does a great disservice to new champion Weidman, who walked the walk after spending the better part of one year telling anyone that would listen that he was the man destined to hand the Brazilian his first UFC loss.
In the moments immediately following UFC 162, I couldn’t help but think UFC brass must have been devastated watching Weidman score that emphatic knockout, thus ruining (as promised) potential superfights between Silva and either Jones or St Pierre. But as the adrenaline wore off from the night’s shocking conclusion, I suddenly realized something others must have certainly felt, as well: I now want to see Weidman vs. Silva II more than I ever wanted to see the former middleweight champ move up or down a division.
Sure, it’s the loss of an opportunity to see Silva join the likes of BJ Penn and Randy Couture as a multi-division champion, but it’s in order to provide us with an intriguing rematch – a grudge fight between the man they said didn’t belong in the title fight and the one some thought would never lose.
So I stand behind my claim. I still believe Anderson is the greatest fighter of all time. But at 38 years old, his days as division kingpin may finally be over. Does The Spider have enough for one more spectacular moment? I’m not sure, but I can’t wait to find out.
Bonnar's second chance
Speaking of Griffin and Bonnar joining the UFC Hall of Fame, I can’t help but feel ‘The American Psycho’ missed out on an opportunity to create some goodwill between himself and the fans who have flocked to his Octagon appearances over the past eight years.
Unlike some of my colleagues, I have no problem with Bonnar’s induction. His fight with Griffin in the finale of the first edition of The Ultimate Fighter was that important to the company. But his two career positive post-fight drug tests left a sour taste. I understand that a Hall of Fame induction is designed to be a celebratory affair, but I think a brief apology would have gone a long way toward repairing damaged relationships.
UFC boss White told me it didn’t bother him that Bonnar didn’t offer such a concession, and maybe it would have seemed out of place to some of the fans gathered to watch the ceremony. But it would have been a nice touch for a man who has always been a fan favorite.
Everyone makes mistakes in life. There’s nothing wrong with asking everyone to forgive and forget. But acknowledgment goes a long way toward proving sincerity.
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