In the days leading up to his fight against Antoni Hardonk at UFC 104, UFC heavyweight Pat Barry was near the end of his string. “I was pretty much broke and had nothing to eat,” Barry said. “I had loaned some money to friends who said they needed it but I never saw it come back so I was really down to my last dollar. In my cupboard and refrigerator all I had was some rice and ketchup. So that was my pre-fight meal.”

When a dog is hungry, it can get mean. And against Hardonk, it took just two minutes and 30 seconds of the second round for Barry to show the world exactly how hungry he was. The heavyweight prospect dramatically TKO'D Hardonk – a toe-curling brand of a knockout – which earned him both ‘Fight of the Night’ and ‘Knockout of the Night’ honors, securing well over $100,000 in bonus checks. 

No more ketchup. No more rice.

“You can’t know the relief I felt after that fight, and then finding out I had won ‘Fight of the Night’ and ‘Knockout of the Night,'” Barry said. “I paid off a bunch of bills and socked the rest away.”

So does being poor make a fighter hungry? Does a poor fighter ‘want it’ more? Logic would dictate that if you’re a person who has money or living a comfortable lifestyle, they wouldn’t fight. Indeed, why would you voluntarily put yourself in harm’s way to win money you already have?

FIGHTING DOES NOT EQUAL DESPERATION

It’s the age-old movie stereotype of Rocky Balboa or Louden Swain from Vision Quest who are not well-to-do, have part-time jobs they hate as a debt collector and room service waiter just to be able to continue to train in the sport they love, whether that’s boxing or wrestling. These days, mixed martial arts fighters must train in both disciplines and many more, and that can get expensive. There simply isn’t a lot of room for luxuries.

Since the beginning of prizefighting, different races and nationalities used combat sports as a way to pull themselves up by the bootstraps, like the gladiators who fought their way out of bondage. In the United States, boxing is nearly a sociological study in the country’s history of immigration. Wave after wave of immigrants – Italians, Irish, Jewish – all took turns in using boxing to raise themselves in stature and wealth. African-Americans, too, and more recently Mexicans have all used boxing as a byway to societal improvement. 

Perhaps pride develops the prizefighter’s hunger and money is not the main motivation. Or maybe it’s pride in one’s people. That thirst for recognition starts at an early age and sticks with many fighters.

Former UFC heavyweight champion Cain Velasquez hauled watermelons in the hot Arizona sun as a young boy. His father, Ephraim, was a Mexican illegal alien who just happened to find navigating the desert at night an easy task and came to the US. He forced his son Cain to toss watermelons on a truck for up to 12 hours a day. That kind of hard work develops a hunger; not just in the physical sense, but in mental toughness and work ethic.

“[Tossing watermelons] as a kid taught me the value of hard work as well as teaching me why I would do everything in my power from having to do that same job for the next 20 years,” Velasquez said. “If I didn’t learn that type of work ethic, I probably wouldn’t train as hard. So it was beneficial that way.

Velasquez said growing up without a lot also teaches persistence, to continue on fighting when you have nothing. The tattoo emblazoned on his chest - 'Brown Pride' - is a tribute to his Mexican working-class heritage.

AN ADVANTAGE TO DISADVANTAGE

Staying hungry does help focus, however. First, it can serve as a fighter’s constant reminder of why he fights and trains. Having lesser means doesn’t allow one to spend frivolously and indulge luxuriantly. It can keep a fighter tight – in body and mind. There’s no mental 'fat,' no physical fat, just what is needed to keep training and fighting.

Further, with limited resources, a fighter will be forced to refrain from activities that can distract him from training for an upcoming fight. His limited resources are dedicated to getting to and through the fight.

UFC heavyweight Mike Russow had a full-time job as a Chicago police officer and, with a wife and child in tow, there was little extra time or funds. He prepared for UFC on Fox 2 by using any extra money to pay for his coaches and training. Needless to say, Russow took the overtime when he could get it. Plus, the simply fact the fight was in Chicago actually saved him money.

“Normally, if a fight was somewhere else I had to travel to, I’m paying the extra money to fly me and my coaches, get the hotel rooms for us, the food for us. It adds up really quick. So it makes you train that much harder to be better and win the fight.” Russow retired in 2013 with a fine 15-3 record.

Some fighters have to be knocked down to nothing for life to come into focus.

Bellator welterweight Jay Heiron knew life had hit rock bottom when he found himself laying on an iron spring bed with no mattress in a cold jail cell with excrement smeared on the walls. After a successful high school and collegiate wrestling career, he strayed toward the wrong side of the law, producing and dealing marijuana. After he was arrested and incarcerated, that moment of clarity hit him.

“I thought: 'is this what I want to do with my life? What did I do?' And, yeah, I had cars and motorcycles, doing knuckle-head things,” Heiron said. “But when I got out I promised myself to get straight. I started MMA and it’s been driving me ever since.”

However, if you aren’t a fighter on the verge of bankruptcy, do you lack legitimacy or 'street cred?'

Boxing legend Andre Ward actually believes so. The Olympic gold medalist struggled early on in his career as critics and other fighters viewed him as a 'golden boy.' His squeaky clean image and Olympic pedigree caused resentment from fighters who felt they had to earn everything through hard knocks and tough breaks.

“It definitely was an issue for me,” said Ward. “I really didn’t get the respect for my success. I think sometimes Olympic boxers have to deal with that because we were able to train with the best in the world with the best facilities in the world while your average boxer is training in a regular gym and just scraping by.“

Andre Ward retired in 2017 with a perfect 32-0 record and as holder of several titles. As for respect, well, while champion he was regarded as the best fighter in the world, pound for pound.

UFC welterweight Carlos Condit doesn’t lack for hunger or desire to be a world champion to add to his WEC title. His father, Brian, served as the chief of staff for former New Mexico governor Bill Richardson. While that might sound fancy, the fact is Brian Condit served as a union electrician and found his way into the political world as a labor leader for Richardson. Meanwhile, like a pit bull, Carlos bit down hard on the MMA life and hasn’t let go.

“I honestly don’t care who I fight,” Condit said. “I just know when I get in the Octagon, I just want to fight. That switch goes off in my head and I just want to smash my opponent.”

Condit defeated Nick Diaz in UFC 143 to win the interim welterweight championship. Nick and younger brother Nate grew up in the tough streets of Stockton, California, without their biological father and little resources. Certainly both Diaz brothers have an edge to their personalities and that chip on their shoulder seems to motivate them. When you have to fight for whatever it is you want, it can sharpen that edge.

As his 26-9 career suggests (13 of those wins by knockout), Nick Diaz kept that edge razor sharp. Consider what he said at the conference call for UFC 137. “I’m fighting to fight. I’m not trying to get all crazy,” Diaz said. “I need to get paid, so I’m going to show up, make weight alright and then I’m going to fight.”

Even when heading into the cage for big money, at the end of an impressive 14-year career in the Octagon, Diaz had the same desire as before his first fight: hungry for victory, ready to knock someone's head off.