I bag on Sherdog's Jake Rossen a fair amount, but his piece today is insightful and honest. He makes the case - correct in my view - that the first time most of us saw MMA, we probably didn't understand the intracacies of the ground game (or any of the technique, really) and didn't think much of the striking technique on display. And as such, is it unreasonable for boxers who spend countless hours honing their craft day in and day out, developing the skill to almost perfect levels to ultimately be dismissive of the seemingly-sloppy and gruesome striking of MMA? Not really. Notable quote:
Now consider your business is pugilism: it's not hard to believe a passing glance at a bout as sloppily contested as Griffin-Bonnar wouldn't incite some kind of acid reflux.
I sympathize with boxers like Mayweather, who have spent their entire lives honing a specific craft until it's an elite-level display of skill. And now they're watching as fans and media are craning their necks over to a roughneck sport full of athletes who wear their hands at their hips and wind up punches from other states. It's like being Olivier and having to sit and listen to critics praise the latest Adam Sandler vehicle. Perception is reality.
Of course, we (the obsessive-compulsives who own third-generation copies of World Extreme Catfighting) know it's not as simple as that. MMA athletes aren't the strikers boxers are for the simple reason that not enough hours in the day have been allotted to become proficient at every aspect of the fight game. In addition to striking, cross-style athletes have to worry about checking leg kicks, avoiding (or initiating) takedowns, and getting acclimated to the deep waters of jiu-jitsu.
Mayweather doesn't see that. He sees wild swings married to some kind of bizarro wrestling match, a human pretzel of arms and legs on the mat. Toney sees Liddell's awkward stance, a squatting defilement of proper boxing technique, and believes he could take his head off ... not stopping to think of what happens when you try and adopt pure boxing into MMA, not understanding what a leg kick does to your thighs, and not cognizant of the perpetual danger of someone trying to take your legs out from under you.
Observers would scoff at MMA's chances of succeeding boxing only a few years ago. The masses, they said, would never tolerate the ground game. Boxing would remain our premier combat sport, and fighters like Toney and Mayweather would never bother to even comment on the variation.
That scenario is changing rapidly, thanks in large part to the free-fight industry refusing to let people wander around with bovine complacency in the matter. National television exposure has altered everything. At the height of the UFC's old-school popularity, a quarter-million pay-per-views were sold; today, that number can exceed one million, despite the increased distractions available via the iPod, the Internet, and a 500-channel cable universe.
It's huge business, brimming with the kind of buzz and exposure that boxing used to enjoy. But the Tysons are gone and the De La Hoyas are nearly out the door. There appears to be no one on the horizon who will be boxing's great salvation, the Ali that stirs emotional investment in middle-aged housewives.
Boxing isn't going anywhere; no obituaries are needed. But I do wonder what happens 20 years from now, when the elder statesmen who grew up looking to that sport as an institution are gone, and the current generation will have been weaned on the likes of Fedor Emelianenko and Matt Hughes.
Perhaps boxing will devolve into the kind of fringe activity that kickboxing is today, a stand-up attraction that toils in the shadow of a more noble and respected sport.
Evolution isn't meant to be kind. Mayweather's not happy, but I doubt the theropods were, either.