The big man slowly turned his head to look at me as I broke the news to him. I was naive and assumed he already knew. At this point, the buzz was all over the Internet, at least in MMA circles. Rumors were spreading fast that Frank Mir had officially been dropped from the main event heavyweight championship bout he was scheduled to face Brock Lesnar at UFC 98.
But for some reason no one had thought to tell Lesnar yet, so when I asked him what he thought about this new development, I inadvertently let him know. Lesnar and his wife Lena (better known to wrestling fans at the time as Sable) both turned and looked at me as if I was a bug that had fallen into their soup.
This was March 2009. My big fight with Mia was scheduled for May. Lesnar was at the Arnold Classic in Columbus, Ohio to promote a sponsor. I did an interview with Lesnar for a magazine, and it didn't start off well. We had just met, and I had “lied” to him.
“No way,” Lesnar said after I showed him the online report on my phone. “I'm sure I heard something.”
When I interviewed him the next morning over breakfast at his hotel, Lesnar had accepted it. It was all true. Mir was out of the match, and Lesnar was devastated. He could only shake his head as all the money he was sure he would make from the match — which he claimed he loved and would “never” have enough of — slipped through his giant fingers.
It was hard to imagine then that it would all work out in the end — very well, in fact — as he would soon become the main runner for what was, at that point, the highest-grossing UFC event of all time — and add an unforgettable place in MMA history.
Fifteen years ago today, UFC 100 took place at the Mandalay Bay Events Center in Las Vegas. It reportedly sold approximately 1.6 million pay-per-view tickets, generated more than $5 million in gate revenue, and solidified UFC's status as a major sports organization with a solid future.
To many current MMA fans, that might seem like a given. It's easy to look at UFC today and think it always began this way: as a fully-fledged, fully-regulated combat sports promotion. But for those who lived through events like UFC 35 (the event that left nearly everyone sick in Uncasville, Connecticut) and UFC 37.5 (the first time UFC had hastily cobbled together at least one fight to air on cable TV), there was no guarantee that UFC 100 would ever take place.
This first 100th anniversary event was special for a few different reasons. First, there was the star power of the event, with Lesnar and Mir fighting a heavyweight title rematch in the main event, welterweight champion and UFC “pay-per-view king” Georges St-Pierre defending his title against Thiago Alves in the co-main event, and then there were the supporting cast, with Dan Henderson creating his own logo with a brutal and frankly vicious knockout of Michael Bisping, Yoshihiro Akiyama and Alan Belcher fighting a hard-fought battle, and Mark Coleman standing the test of time with an incredible win over the late Stephan Bonnar.
You know how big the card was, Jon Jones fought in prelims, there was a live viewing party at Radio City Music Hall, it was the first true mega event that UFC has ever staged, and it was a can't miss fight card for anyone with even the slightest interest in the sport.
Another thing that made UFC 100 special was that it was the first time UFC was in full force. Five years ago, the sport was barely watchable. UFC didn't have a TV contract or a reality show. UFC put on about five events a year, all pay-per-view, and anything that grossed 100,000 was considered a huge success.
But by the summer of 2009, UFC was a behemoth. Its 100th anniversary celebration felt like a festival, like climbing to a high vantage point just to look back down into the desolate valley where I nearly died of thirst.
UFC celebrated not only with an event, but also with its first-ever Fan Expo. Now we take for granted the buzz surrounding International Fight Week, held in Las Vegas every summer, but back then, it was something entirely new. Tens of thousands of people streamed through the space of Mandalay Bay's gigantic yet somewhat claustrophobic convention center to shake hands and take photos with just about every big name in MMA. Among the sweaty bodies clad in loud T-shirts and sparkly jeans (sorry, 2009 was a dark time for men's fashion), it was a reminder that this quirky, minor sport had finally, for better or worse, fully arrived.
All of this combined to make the weekend feel like a can't miss gathering for MMA fans, but on fight day, the big attraction was clearly St-Pierre vs. Lesnar.
St-Pierre became a bona fide superstar thanks to his rivalries with Matt Hughes and BJ Penn. Both men were already MMA luminaries when St-Pierre emerged. He looked like a computer-generated model of a future fighter. He was an all-around great athlete, blending elements of kickboxing and karate into a dynamic submission game. Despite never having any real wrestling experience, he suddenly picked up the sport, ending an all-time welterweight title hope.
No matter what sport you excel in — striking, wrestling, jiu-jitsu — St-Pierre always had the ability to win in at least two areas. Leading up to UFC 100, I spent time with Thiago Alves in South Florida for a magazine feature. I remember sitting with him at his favorite Asian fusion restaurant (I've never met anyone who loves to eat more than “The Pit Bull”) and trying, as politely as I could, to ask him what he thought was his advantage against a well-rounded fighter like GSP.
Alves shrugged and explained that he didn't know if he could beat St-Pierre and win the title, but he felt sure he could. And as St-Pierre landed nearly 10 double-leg punches on him, his rapidly swelling face showed. His belief turned to hope. Each time he returned to his corner after another round, that hope faded further and further.
(Meanwhile, in the other corner, St-Pierre was telling his coach, Greg Jackson, about hurting his groin. “I don't care,” Jackson told him. “This is where champions are made. It doesn't matter anymore. Go ahead and punch me in the groin.”)
But to the general public, Lesnar remained the big draw. The former WWE wrestler, who trained just once at a Minnesota Vikings training camp before deciding to dedicate himself (briefly but memorable) to MMA, was a big name in the sport from the moment he arrived.
UFC 100 was Lesnar's pinnacle as a fighter, both athletically and financially. He would never again be as dominant in the cage as he was when he defeated Mir, mauling him like a caveman fighting for the last mastodon meat. And he never competed in a UFC event that generated higher pay-per-view sales, not even in his return for the next 100th anniversary event, UFC 200.
Although he was furious (really furious) when his fight was cancelled at UFC 98, it ultimately turned out to be the best thing that could have happened for everyone involved. Lesnar's inclusion at the top of UFC 100 only added to the excitement of an already hyped pay-per-view, giving everyone on the card the spotlight it deserves while also allowing UFC to showcase its full potential as a powerhouse in the sport.
Lesnar brought out the big crowd for perhaps his most memorable interview. As the Las Vegas crowd booed him, Lesnar declared he was going to celebrate his win over Mir by going home and drinking a Coors Light. “Coors Light, because Bud Light won't pay me.” He said he would celebrate with friends and family, adding, “Man, I might get on top of my wife tonight.”
At the very least, this earned him cheers before he rode off into the sunset, and how could he know then that there would never be a better night than this one, at least for him, and at least in the sport?
