It's Time!: My 360-Degree View of the UFC
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
If you’re reading these words, chances are that you, like me, are a fan of the great sport we call MMA.
And if you’re a fan, then you probably recognize my face.
Yeah, that’s right—I’m that guy you see at every UFC match, spinning around and roaring into the microphone and getting up in fighters’ grills.
Okay, so I might not be the most subtle or refined announcer in the business. But I hope I communicate my passion for the sport in a way no other announcer does.
I’ll say it again: Passion. Because that’s what this book is about.
In these pages, I want to tell you about the passion that first led me to bet everything on this sport of ours, way back when MMA was outlawed in half the country and there wasn’t a dime to be made on it. I want to tell you how that passion all started, with my larger-than-life father, a former Marine Drill Sergeant who, by the time I was ten, had taught me to play poker and blackjack, field-strip a Luger pistol blindfolded, and recite poetry. He was a man who thought nothing of confronting a group of thugs armed with nothing but his fists—and who expected the same strength and honor from his sons.
I want to take you inside the incredible brotherhood that makes up the UFC as nobody ever has before, to tell you about the bond we all share and the crazy times I’ve had over the years with guys like Randy Couture, Tito Ortiz, Chuck Liddell, BJ Penn, and Jon “Bones” Jones. I want to give you my Octagon-side insights on many of the big fights you remember, and just maybe, to tell you about a few memorable fights that took place outside of the octagon, too—from my own sparring match with a youngster named Royce Gracie back before the phrase “Mixed Martial Arts” even existed, to some other brawls you might’ve heard about.
And I want to tell you about the remarkable, late-life meeting with the celebrity brother I never knew I had—a brother whose existence my parents had never once breathed a word about!—that helped inspire me to chase my own dreams of standing up in the Octagon.
Surprising stuff from the guy in the fancy tux, right? And that’s just the start. There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet.
And now… IT’S TIME! I told you.
excite them by saying as little as possible but meaning as much as possible. You create the sizzle and then “close” the deal. I did some motivational speaking at the time, too, sharing what I’d learned about salesmanship and living a healthy life. BUFFERISM NO. 4 “BSC: BALLS, SKILL, CONFIDENCE.” BSC is my theory of life. You can do anything if you have these three things. Some people focus exclusively on skill—preparing, training, becoming professional. That’s good, but don’t neglect the
get producers who arrogantly insisted that they had the right to do whatever they wanted simply because they had bought a ten-dollar compact disc, and because they were used to getting their way. Next thing you know, I was dropping off my clothes at the dry cleaner’s and the man behind the counter said, “Hey, your brother was on the Don Imus radio show this morning!” I sent Imus a letter asking him to please stop using Michael’s catchphrase until he’d worked out a license deal with us. As was
Fertittas cracked the code. They figured out that when people come out to the fights, they’re looking for electric, dynamic action. If the fighters go to ground quickly and stay there, trying to get each other to submit, it can make for some pretty boring entertainment for the rest of us. That disappointment didn’t stop the organization. It only fueled their fire to work out the kinks. That was when they instituted the rule that if the fighters hit the ground and there’s no action, the ref has to
sometimes uses to drop upward of eighteen pounds in a single day. That kind of dedication is part of why I love this sport—and why I’m so proud to call these warriors my friends. Jon “Bones” Jones showing off some Buffer gear at the Buffer Poker Room store in the Luxor Hotel in Las Vegas. I firmly believe that Jon has the potential to be the Muhammad Ali of the UFC—the only adversary who can hurt him is himself. When Dana White and the Fertitta brothers took over the struggling UFC, it was
to mock him for putting on weight over the years, but I notice that they don’t say anything to him directly. His closed fist is about the size of my face. I would not want to tangle with him. In February 2002, when Anderson Silva took down Vitor Belfort with a front snapkick at UFC 126, it was one of the sport’s more eyebrow-raising upsets. It rocked the world, people say, because never in the Octagon had we ever seen anyone dropped with a front kick to the chin. It was a hugely dramatic moment.