On Sakuraba

On Sakuraba

On the Sherdog.com forums, a minor debate has flared up in the wake of Melvin Manhoef’s ultra-violent TKO of MMA legend and fan-favorite Kazushi Sakuraba. Precipitated by one fight fan’s feeling of satisfaction at the news of Sakuraba’s in-ring destruction, many have since decried what they see as a disrespectful sentiment, arguing that any antagonistic feelings toward such a venerable legend could only be a result of the UFC-centric, TUF-generation mentality; that such fans are merely loud-mouthed newcomers with little understanding or appreciation of the sport’s history.

Of course, I believe that the “problem,” if you can even call it that, is far more complicated, and such sentiments deserve more than just an angry dismissal by the self-styled aficionados and old guard.

We first have to understand that someone like Sakuraba (or Royce Gracie, or Ken Shamrock, or Randy Couture, or any fighter who has sufficiently captured the hearts and imaginations of the larger MMA audience) has, by turns either famous or notorious, become legendary, an institution in mixed martial arts. Attendant to this status is the fact that, when such a personage fights, he represents not just himself, but, for better or worse, a host of ideals or sins. Sakuraba is not so much a man as he is a symbol.

But a symbol of what?

Showmanship and a true appreciation for the sport and its fans, as evidenced by his good nature and elaborate entrances, may certainly find suitable personification in Sakuraba. The ideals of fighting spirit and resourcefulness are likewise well manifested in Sakuraba’s 185 pound frame—on display in his come-from-behind submission victory over Kestutis Smirnovas, and, though they ultimately ended in defeat, his seemingly fearless confrontations against the oversized Mirko Filipovic, Ricardo Årona, and Wanderlei Silva. Any spectator with a fair understanding of mixed martial art’s evolution since UFC 1 must concede these points.

However, as well-schooled spectators, we also have a responsibility to acknowledge what can be dubbed “the whole story.” With this in mind, it is, in fact, more reprehensible for any self-styled expert to refuse that Sakuraba may represent anything but integrity than it is for a relative newcomer to wholly dismiss Sakuraba’s contributions. Neither position is correct, but the newcomer has an excuse in his inexperience, while the expert ought to know better. While Sakuraba deservedly embodies any number of admirable qualities, he has, throughout his career, also earned some attributes that sit bitter on many tongues. It’s these associations that could lead a spectator to find satisfaction rather than heartbreak in Sakuraba’s defeat.

MMA snobbery and Japanophilia are unfortunately tied to Sakuraba, not through any fault of his own, but by the attitudes that some of his most vocal supporters have taken—those who don’t appreciate Sakuraba in total are dismissed by the self-appointed elite as low-brow idiots. Sakuraba also served as one of the most visual standards born by those in favor of the Japanese fight promotion during the senseless UFC vs. PRIDE FC debates. He and his peers were irrationally seen as the classy, intelligent alternative to the dumbed-down UFC crowd.

Similarly, Sakuraba may be associated with officiation bias and corruption in MMA. At least one fighter, in Quinton Jackson, has stated that he was monetarily encouraged to lose in his fight with Sakuraba (though he didn’t take the “bonus,” and lost anyway). Likewise, respected veteran Guy Mezger recently revealed that, while fighting for PRIDE FC, he was pressured to be “creative” with how the fights went, and that, in his fight with Sakuraba, rather than going to the judge’s scorecards, a contract-breaching third round was decided upon at the last minute (he refused to continue in the fight, and it sits as a loss by way of forfeit on his record). At this point we can say that Sakuraba wasn’t a direct conspirator, but there is the mounting suspicion that he benefited from some of PRIDE FC’s more notorious matchmaking, refereeing, and judging practices. Unfortunately, being one of the poster boys for PRIDE FC, he is exemplary of its best qualities, but also shoulders the burden of its most reprehensible.

Perhaps more than anything else, though, Sakuraba represents the double standard in mixed martial arts. When discussing Sakuraba’s legacy, the point most often brought up are his set of victories over Royce, Renzo, Royler, and Ryan Gracie. The Gracies were, of course, once thought to be invincible, but now their own family legacy has recently been thrown in to question, and they are widely considered to be relics of the sport, obsolete since the last time Royce Gracie won a UFC tournament. While much dismissed in every area of MMA discussion, the Gracie’s reputation for invincibility and ultra-toughness are for some reason restored when discussing Sakuraba. Furthermore, while the Gracies are often criticized for demanding special parameters for their fights, Sakuraba receives little criticism for similar practices, as in the aforementioned fight with Guy Mezger.

When a given person delights in the destruction of Sakuraba, they aren’t reacting to Sakuraba personally (really, how could they? Virtually none of the spectators know him intimately, so this concept is ridiculous from the outset). Rather, they are delighting in the destruction of snobbery, or corruption, or double standards.

Of course Sakuraba is not a proponent of MMA snobbery, corruption, or double standards. But someone with such deep roots in mixed martial arts, someone who has entered the fans’ consciousness to the extent that he has, is bound to be coupled with one or another of those undesirable characteristics, just as he is connected to the ideals of showmanship, fan appreciation, and warrior spirit.

Is this fair to Sakuraba? Is it fair that he should shoulder the doubts as well as the admiration of millions of imaginations? When it comes to being a legend, this is an occupational hazard. To mix metaphors, being an icon is a double-edged sword—just as the world will project its greatest ideals onto a great person, so might they just as readily project the worst faults. An educated fan’s responsibility lies in recognizing this fact, that no fighter is an absolute hero or villain. That like the individual themselves, like the day-to-day man Kazushi Sakuraba, a fighter’s legacy, the Kazushi Sakuraba of the ring, is multifaceted, evolving, and complex.