UFC: Conor McGregor Making Use Of What Chael Sonnen Pretended

Chael Sonnen walked softly, and carried a big microphone. People comparing Conor McGregor to the former Middleweight contender have it utterly wrong about the Irish star in the making.

When you cover mixed martial arts the way I do, you end up tuning certain things out, both by choice, and chance. A Bloody Elbow reader took me to task the other day for making a comment about why I wouldn’t understand what makes Conor McGregor polarizing. My work here is pretty specific: I break down what I predict the violent interaction will be like between two fighters. So spending time reading about, say, who’s celebrating wins with cakes in the shape of ejaculating penises doesn’t come natural.

And so I’ve been playing catch up with respect to Conor’s colorful colloquium. Some of his comments have been not just misguided, but in the kind of poor taste that reflects what is often seen as an inclusive, misogynist culture. As was the case with his Ronda Rousey, Miesha Tate threesome comment. Other comments have been snarky, and biting just through simple wordplay, like that Dustin Poirier can “pretend he wants this fight”. His response to some of Chad Mendes’ comments felt argumentative rather than vindictive. True, there is an arrogance to claiming yourself number one without a rich history of being across from ranked, similarly talented peers. But too many fans and observers have a fundamental misunderstanding of where arrogance belongs. Arrogance is just a positive exponent of confidence; a vital component for the kind of mindset required to successfully will yourself through bodily harm as a prizefighter.

However, there are a few more things that make Conor a certified star, and to stress my point, I’d like to talk about Chael Sonnen. After all, consider the title of this article. What did not Sonnen not get? Isn’t he the guy laughing his way to the bank while I scratch my butt pretending I don’t envy his success? Well, yes and no.

The problem with Sonnen is that he had more supporters than he had fans. After all, even those that backed his theatrics didn’t fully support his discriminatory remarks directed at Anderson Silva. People enjoyed what he represented more than what he actually was. And no matter how good he was at talking, his pugilistic walking could never match it. I felt he earned his Middleweight title shot, so I’m not here to play the revisionist. But his record with Zuffa, which constituted the last half of his career, was 8-6 (he was finished in each loss) and his behavior outside the cage over performance enhancing drugs emphasized the issue over whether the sports landscape is sabotaged with their presence. Sonnen had to be loud outside the cage because he could be so quiet at times inside of it. Where Chael used his stagecraft to mask his deficiencies, Conor is using it to illuminate his proficiencies.

After beating Dustin Poirier thoroughly, he had what I thought was the most interesting comment of the night in his post-fight speech with Joe Rogan, when asked about why he called Dustin ‘basic’:

“I just find that a lot of mixed martial artists get into a rut, coming out to that Thai boxing, flat footed style. Against a guy like me that’s in and out, the angles are different. It’s the old age. This is the new age.”

At the same time he’s building his ‘brand’, he’s having a frank discussion about the identity of mixed martial arts all in one soundbite.

That to me, is the mixed martial arts word of the day; identity. As the Father of the Epigram once intoned, “if you cannot resolve what you are, at last you will be nothing”. Sonnen’s inglorious departure from MMA thus feels fitting for a guy who wore a metaphorical mask on the mic.

I know to some readers, this all feels like another attack on Chael Sonnen, and I’ll admit I’ve been a bit eager, even, to argue Sonnen’s failures as a symbol of what the sport needs. But I hear some observers talk about Conor as a Chael-like figure who is talking his way towards a title shot he hasn’t earned. No, I don’t think he’s earned a title shot yet. But his talking is a completely different brand than what Sonnen tried so hard to establish.

There is a territorial component to why we watch sports to begin with. Your favorite football team might remind you of family, a public display of affection with a significant other, or the shared pain of enduring the mediocrity of a team owned by Jerry Jones. McGregor is an interesting exception to the rule of individual sports because how you identify with these people must be intrinsically more specific. Conor, unlike Chael, knows exactly who he is.

“My name, the McGregor name, has bled on the battlefield on the war-torn Scottish highlands in the 17th century, when we were fighting off the British.”

This is why he took the spotlight away from the champion headlining the card, Demetrious Johnson (who himself had another brilliant performance). If you look at Bloody Elbow’s search engine, you’ll find 248 article entries for Conor McGregor vs. DJ’s 846. Yet Conor has 370 comments devoted to him versus the 305 that Johnson has accrued.

McGregor is saying and doing what creates a real star, in providing a sense of belonging for his fans. They don’t have to know the intimate histories of Oliver Cromwell and Arthur Ashton, nor does McGregor, for people to find something identifiable in him. None of this is to crown the man. He has yet to face a real top heavy wrestler. Nobody on his dance card compares to the likes of Kawajiri, Guida, Bermudez, Mendes, Edgar, or even Elkins; fighters who could potentially take away his most potent weapon in his striking. Nor am I making the argument that being able to identify with a successful athlete is what creates a star (see Tiger Woods). And I’m certainly not here to back up Dana’s hyperbolic claims of Conor McGregor being bigger than Brock Lesnar, or Georges St-Pierre.

Rather, this essay is my own personal wag of the finger in response to the comparisons to Chael Sonnen. Even if we assume a worst case scenario for McGregor, who loses enough to theoretically never even fight for a title, it doesn’t undercut the general point. Sorry pro wrestling fans and MMA fans who want pro wrestling elements in this sport, but a thousand scripted promos involving John Cena or Ric Flair will never compare to Muhammed Ali, and if comparing Conor McGregor to Ali makes you sick to your stomach, then we can go with a “second rate sport” like hockey, and stick with PK Subban of the Montreal Canadians, who had the following to say before going into Boston for game 7 of their series with the Bruins for the 2013-14 Eastern Conference playoffs:

“It’s going to be great. I can’t wait for the crowd, the noise, the energy in the building. I can’t wait to take that all away from them.”

Words are are more fascinating to us when consequences define their impact as much as what inspire them. And that’s why characters endure long after caricatures in the loam of sports.