Issue 094
November 2012
Jiu-jitsu vs Luta livre
Stuff of legend
Every issue we take a look back at some of the landmark moments in the history of MMA
The night when Rio bragging rights between jiu-jitsu and luta livre would actually prove to become one of the most significant nights in the history of mixed martial arts
MMA folklore tells us that everyone got wise to jiu-jitsu after the heroics of Royce Gracie at the early UFC tournaments, but this is history with a North American slant. In Brazil, Helio Gracie’s fights had drawn tens of thousands of people to football stadiums and featured on TV decades earlier and, in 1991, a televised event proved to be a key moment in the spread of the gentle art.
Jiu-jitsu had a potent rival in its backyard. Luta livre (literally ‘free fight’) is the black sheep of South American fighting systems. The style emerged from the Brazilian melting pot in the early 20th century, and has a lot in common with its proletarian brother, catch wrestling. Luta livre came from the streets. Without comfortable mats, there was no place for lying back and playing guard. The Rio lads knew that getting top control and attacking the knee and ankle joints was the fast track to ending a fight.
Luta livre and Gracie jiu-jitsu arrived on the scene at the same time in the same town. Something had to give and for years a civil war raged. More accurately: a class war. Jiu-jitsu was seen as the domain of the middle class, the ‘playboy’ posers of the Copacabana. Wearing the right gi and being a member of the right club were status symbols. The luta livre crew fought bare chested, like humble grapplers had through the ages. They weren’t welcome at the ‘right’ clubs. Wrong clothes, wrong attitude, wrong address. Official challenges, street showdowns and gym invasions were commonplace as the dispute raged on over the years until a decisive blow settled matters.
In 1991, Robson Gracie organized the Grande Desafio (Grand Challenge). The event comprised three fights, each featuring a leading jiu-jitsu fighter taking on a luta livre exponent under old-school vale tudo (no holds barred) rules. Brazil’s premier TV network, Globo, screened the event live, thinking they were getting a benign form of boxing without punches that would be suitable for a mainstream audience.
Their illusions were shattered as the pure hatred between the warring camps came to the surface in the first fight. Wallid Ismail took Eugenio Tadeu down then repeatedly head-butted him in the face, spreading teeth across the blood soaked canvas. Next up, Murilo Bustamante propelled Marcelo Mendes through the ropes into the baying mob standing at ringside. And to complete a 3-0 sweep for jiu-jitsu, Fabio Gurgel pounded his way to victory over Denilson Maia. Throughout the event, the atmosphere never dropped below thunderdome fever pitch. The climax sparked a ring invasion, with the triumphant horde bouncing as they chanted: “Jiu-jitsu!”
Grande Desafio divided the nation. Shocked by the brutality on display, thousands of older viewers called Globo to protest, while young men flocked to the gyms, desperate to emulate the men they had seen on TV. Overnight, participation trebled and jiu-jitsu exploded out of Rio to become a nationwide phenomenon. A couple of years later, Royce Gracie infected the rest of the planet with jiu-jitsu fever and the rout was complete. If you wanted to make it as a grappler, you signed up for jiu-jitsu. On the basis of a one-off TV special, luta livre was all but consigned to the dustbin of history.
Only it isn’t quite that simple. Luta livre devotees will point out that many of the techniques we regard as jiu-jitsu, like the guillotine and the heel hook, were actually ‘borrowed’ from luta livre in the first place. On the night, very little skill was on show as the contests degenerated into brawls. The victorious trio appear to have been simply tougher guys, rather than standard bearers of a superior system.
The success of the Gracies and the MMA boom have led to unprecedented levels of interest in grappling. Lines have blurred as those looking outside the box for an edge are becoming attracted to the less well-known arts. And, along with catch wrestling, luta livre is enjoying a revival. Coaches like Marcio ‘Cromado’ Barbosa and Marcelo Brigadeiro are much in demand. Due to the Brazilian–English connection forged by Brigadeiro through his association with Liverpool’s Team Kaobon gym, fighters like Terry Etim and red-hot submission sensation Paul Sass are flying the flag inside the Octagon. Whilst another disciple, Maiquel ‘Big Rig’ Falcao, was the star of the recent Bellator middleweight tournament.
In the concluding fight of Grande Desafio, Fabio Gurgel finished mercilessly; no doubt fired up by the blatant eye gouging he had been a victim of. As he was chaired, shoulder high around the ring by his ecstatic supporters, the air of triumphalism was palpable. The jiu-jitsu clan thought this was the final nail in the coffin of their bitter rival. The end of a local feud. They could not have realized this was actually a landmark in a revolution. A transformation that would see the birth of mixed martial arts, the realization that a ground game was essential in MMA and, ultimately, a global interest in both jiu-jitsu and luta livre.
