Issue 053
August 2009
Hywel Teague on MMA.
I’ve never been attracted to team sports. I’d like to say it’s because I prefer the man who relies on his wits, guile, determination and will to overcome a challenge by himself.
Besting an obstacle in front of you without the help of others – whether it is a sheer rock face or a man with four-ounce gloves – is a special achievement, and all the more so when you can say, “I did that”. There is no ‘we’, here. It is ironic that despite sharing a room with thousands of other people, there is no place more lonely than when you are locked in the Octagon.
But MMA is not entirely an individual sport. Once the bell rings you’re reliant on your own abilities to get you through the next few minutes, and no fighter ever got in the cage by training himself. As Rampage once told me, “you’re only as good as the team you train with”, because “are you gonna hold pads for yourself?”
Behind every top fighter is a team of managers, trainers, coaches, sparring partners, nutritionists, physiotherapists, psychologists, publicists and more. The support network that even low-level professional fighters count upon is essential, even if they don’t have dozens of specialists backing them up like the major names.
With the fighters basking in the limelight and enjoying the adoration and praise that rightfully comes with a victory, it is easy to forget those who helped get them there. Just like the expedition that requires months of planning and preparation, training for a fight involves weeks of hard work from all those involved. The people behind the fighter devote as much of themselves to the fight as the man under the bright lights.
The one person who can claim the biggest share of the praise after the fighter himself is the coach. Whereas everyone in the team plays their own vital part, the coach is the linchpin that keeps them all together. He looks after the fighter’s needs, both physical and spiritual. He co-ordinates the fighter’s training schedule, deciding what they will work on and when. He is the mentor, the confidant, the dictator, the best friend, the taskmaster and even the shoulder to cry on.
The coach must juggle everything about a fighter’s training: ensuring their physical performance is at its peak while always staying mindful of the tactical and strategic considerations, not to mention making sure the fighters are confidant and in the best possible state of mind. Sounds stressful? You bet. Now consider the coach who works with multiple athletes, and has to do this for every single one of them.
I’ve seen plenty of coaches in action in my time; those who operate at every level in this game. Some are good, many are bad. I’ve seen coaches who have absolutely no emotional investment in their fighters whatsoever, happy to share the glory of the victories but who will simply shrug and walk away should they experience a loss. For me, these aren’t coaches. A real coach doesn’t just stand there with a stopwatch and bark orders. He doesn’t just walk to the cage with a bucket in one hand and a white towel in the other.
A real coach has an unwavering commitment to their charge. He is there when times are good or bad – when the fighter is on top of the world, or when he needs him most.
It’s easy to recognize the effect a coach has had on a fighter. The direct contributions they have made to their development as an athlete and a fighter will be visible to anyone with half an eye for this sport, but a good coach will leave a far deeper imprint than that.
The best coaches will not only shape their athletes into effective fighters, but into champions. Doing so takes a massive amount of work. No coach is simply handed a champion. Many fighters have the potential to become a champion, but even under the care of a top coach there is no guarantee they will fulfill their promise. The fighter must be open enough for the coach to work with them, and the coach must be intuitive enough to work out how the fighter needs to be coached.
We already give enough praise to the fighters for a job well done – what about the men behind the scenes? It’s important for us to recognize their work, as without them there would be no fighters.
Working with fighters is often a hard, thankless task. Even when you win, unless you’re a Greg Jackson-type character working at the top levels of the sport, you’re likely to get only a few handshakes or quick comments.
A coach of Jackson’s caliber gets no end of attention from the media when one of his guys wins, and similarly gets just as much negative press when they lose. But spare a thought for the many coaches out there who are doing this without the recognition of the wider audience. Without them, where would we be?
