Issue 042
October 2008
When I go to an MMA event to take photos, I take a few factors into account when choosing my spot at ringside. I like to be fairly near the timekeeper so I can double check official results and times. Also I like to choose a spot where no direct lights shine into my lens, and I like to have a clear view of an exit (just in case).
Depending on my mood, one spot I like to take is near a fighter’s corner. I’m not bothered by which corner – with no red or blue padding on a cage to distinguish respective corners, it’s often difficult to tell which one is which until the fights begin anyway. Being close enough to the action to smell a fighter’s sweat is always an interesting experience. You see so much from right up against the fence, and when you magnify tiny things with a zoom lens you see more than anyone else.
But in those times before, during and after fights when they’re not actually fighting - such as the tense seconds before the bell rings, the break between rounds or as they stagger back to their corners in victory or defeat - it is possible to see a lot, both good and bad.
Sitting next to a corner, I never quite know what I’m in for. Sometimes I’ll be right next to the most professional outfit going, a team that has working a corner down to a fine art, operating in telepathic tandem to provide all their fighter’s needs in the brief seconds they are permitted to work. Watching well-rehearsed cornermen is a thing of beauty - the synchronised movements that provide ice, water, iron, Vaseline, towel and air can be just as mesmerising and balletic as the exchanges between the fighters.
There is only one way to become an accomplished cornerman: practice, and lots of it. As with most things, repetition is the key to success. But simply turning up time and time again isn’t enough - a cornerman needs to study the various skills that a second should be able to provide, as well as be aware of the many factors that could affect a fight and, more importantly, a fighter’s well-being.
Simply dousing a fighter with water, rubbing him off with a dirty towel and sending him back into the fray isn’t good enough. In the 60-second break between rounds a good cornerman needs to cram a whole lot of work into a very short space of time. Giving the fighter water, tending to his injuries (swellings, cuts) and offering him tactical analysis and advice may sound easy, but it certainly isn’t. I’ve seen countless cornermen half drown their fighters with a water bottle held to the lips for too long, injuries go unchecked and untreated and I’ve seen water poured into cuts and more damage caused with the selling iron that it was treating.
The worst offending cornermen have truly shocked me though. Some of them I struggle to believe even made it to where they are. While some are blatantly water bottle carriers picked out by a fighter with no one else to ask (and admit they know nothing) it’s the trainers who should know better that really surprise me. I’ve seen international - level trainers walk off after their fighter has lost, leaving a bewildered and confused fighter - struggling to even register they’ve just been in a fight - by themselves in the middle of the ring while their second laments their performance from the comfort of the VIP seats. The fighter in question had to go and find his shoes and make his way backstage by himself while his coach shook his head in disappointment.
Apart from a fighter’s physical needs, a cornerman must be aware of psychological needs also. A fighter will go through a gamut of emotions in a very short space of time due to the extreme stress they are under. Their cornerman must be able to properly identify what state of mind the fighter is in and give them the appropriate feedback. Is he too laid-back? Is he over-psyched? Is he about to break down in tears? The wrong reaction can send a fighter back into battle in totally the wrong frame of mind, and cost them the fight.
Having been privileged to watch everyone from world-class cornermen to the absolutely clueless, I’ve gained an appreciation for the work that entails being a fighter’s second. The fine art of working a corner isn’t rocket science, but as it relies a lot on common sense, it isn’t for just anyone either. Next time you’re at an event try to watch the corner to see exactly what goes on, and maybe you’ll gain some insight as to what happens in that crucial time between rounds.
