The introduction assaulted the senses. UFC returned to Denver on Saturday with a bumping bass, shrieking vocals and flashing strobe lights.
Sitting 15 feet from the Octagon, the vibe was palpable — a Monster Energy drink come to life. The roaring crowd at Ball Arena was told it was “about to see something it has never seen before.” The fights, as promised, blended karate, jiu-jitsu, martial arts, wrestling and boxing.
There is an urgency to the bouts that conjure memories of Marvin Hagler and Thomas “Hitman” Hearns in the 1980s. The first rounds are not methodical. They are about survival.
“Everybody is tough early,” Evan “The Phenom” Elder said. “It’s the second and third rounds you find out what you are made of.”
Elder took the first fight to Darrius “Beastmode” Flowers, delighting the crowd in the UFC’s first card in Denver since 2018. Elder kicked, punched — one was deemed below the equator, causing a near-five minute delay — and won by submission over Flowers. Elder on the mic was even better than Elder in the fight.
“I am trying to break necks and cash checks. UFC, Dana White, put me back in here,” said Elder after his welterweight victory. “I want to make some moneeeeeeeey!”
UFC has come a long way since holding its first two championship events in Denver in November 1993 and March 1994. It’s a coed sport now. Ball Arena featured entertaining women’s fights — Rose Namajunas and Tracy Cortez were the headliners — and “U-S-A!” chants for flyweight Fatima Kline. She lost to Jasmine Jasudavicius, who told the heckling crowd to “shut up!”
UFC has figured out how to entertain, how to market, how to deliver. It has done an amazing job branding itself as a reality show, and Elder’s post-fight address is exactly the type of moment that resonates with the audience on screen and in the arena. There is candor, bravado, vulgarity and vulnerability rarely seen at the podium following an NFL, NBA or MLB game.
The UFC feels everywhere. It is omnipresent on ESPN through classic highlights, contender shows and “The Ultimate Fighter.” And the sport’s best rarely, if ever, duck each other. UFC soared in popularity during the COVID-19 pandemic. While many sports struggled to survive, UFC thrived, matching the NFL in its desire to move forward against an avalanche of criticism. The draw is undeniable based on sold-out bouts, and eyeballs on TVs. It features fights locally, globally and the product is endlessly and easily available through streaming.
In-person, the raw appeal possesses a pull that makes me hope there is not another six-year pause between UFC events at Ball Arena. There is a gladiator nature with these men and women. These fighters do what we can’t do and won’t do. They train with the discipline of a monk. They eat like a jockey and compete like they are on a ledge with only one cushion available on the ground below.
There is accountability to how it plays. No teammates to blame. No fingers to point at officials. We know they are great athletes. But who is the toughest?
It is a loaded question because it requires such a diverse skill set. The first eight fights included three submissions, two decisions, a no contest — Cody Brundage was illegally elbowed multiple times in the head; not cool — and a pair of knockouts, one 18 seconds into the bout.
When Josh Fremd entered the arena in the second preliminary fight, he was embraced like a long, lost friend, showered in applause. He is from Pittsburgh but has trained in Denver for more than a decade. This night provided an opportunity “to make a statement.” Instead, the only appropriate description 15 minutes later was buzzkill. His opponent Andre Petroski took the fight to the mat, laying on and outmuscling Fremd.
He blocked out the merciless boos to win a decision that featured few memorable snapshots beyond Fremd’s running knee to Petroski’s ribs. Fans entertained themselves with Rick Flair “Woooooo!” chants throughout the final two rounds.
The bout required an appreciation for the science of winning on the mat and provided the first negative feedback about the Mile High City.
“There’s no (bleeping) air up here,” said Petroski in the ring afterward. “(Wrestling) was the only game plan to win. It sucks. But, you have to do what you have to do to get the win. I couldn’t take risks.”
Part of the charm of the UFC is that the next fight can be the fight of the night, and can leave jaws agape. Bantamweight Montel Jackson delighted the packed arena, living up to his “Quik” nickname. Eighteen seconds into the first round, he floored Da’Mon Blackshear, catching him flush in the face with a straight left. Blackshear required medical attention before leaving the ring. Jackson thanked Blackshear for taking the fight on short notice, saying too many “chumps” don’t.
The crowd was not as familiar with his game, but they appreciated the jolt.
UFC is not for everyone. It is violent. It is dangerous. But that has always been the fight game, whether it was Jack Dempsey, Mike Tyson, Chuck Liddell or Anderson Silva.
It makes no apologies. The “oohs!” when kicks smashed into chests and “aahs!” when punches slammed into chins offered a reminder of why it was hard to find any empty seats when the lights turned on.
There were fighters who left needing to practice getting up. There were fighters who needed practice in shutting up.
But there were UFC fighters, based on the attendance and reaction, who should be back in Denver.
“Denver, Colorado is amazing,” said featherweight Julian “Juicy J” Erosa. “Thank you so much.”
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