Read The Laws of the Ring Online
Authors: Urijah Faber,Tim Keown
Tags: #Sports & Recreation, #Self-Help, #Biography & Autobiography, #Sports, #Personal Growth, #Success, #Business Aspects
“Look, guys, I appreciate your concern,” I said. “I know you're my friends and you've got my best interests in mind, but I'm not giving this up.”
They didn't immediately accept the answer, but they came around. And as soon as they felt that “this fighting thing” made me genuinely happy, they dropped their criticisms and have been nothing but supportive since. In fact, after that conversation, the three of us would sit around and watch video of my fights over and over. Dave and Dustin would just sit there with their eyes bugging out and their jaws hanging open.
“Dude, I can't believe you're doing this shit!” Dave would say. “It blows me away!” I'd overhear them telling their other buddies on the phone, “Urijah fought this big Mexican dude, and he kicked his ass.”
Dustin and Dave did what they felt was the right thing for their friend, and they didn't bring it up again. My fights became their guilty pleasure. They continue to attend . . . and they keep having a blast.
Emulate the Successful
A
n Ohio paper-mill worker named Donald Ray Pollock, whose main contributions to society were drinking too much and doing too many drugs, decided he wanted to become a writer. He had no formal training as a writer and no means of acquiring that training, so he took a unique approach to finding his own voice.
As recounted in a profile by the
New York Times'
Charles McGrath, “[Pollock] began by retyping the stories of writers he admiredâHemingway, Cheever, Richard Yates. âI'd type one and sort of carry it around with me for a week, reading and rereading, and then I'd pitch that one and do another. I probably did that for 18 months. I'm not a real close reader and typing those stories out gave me a chance to see . . . how you make a transition . . . how you do dialogue. You don't fill the page with blather. I knew that in the back of my head, but it still helped to see it.' ”
Imagine that: This man sat down with books by his favorite authors and painstakingly typed their words verbatim as a means of getting closer to the genius that created them. Obviously, there's no one single way to give life to your passion. Everyone has a different process, but one thing is irrefutable: It starts with initiative. Whether it's researching the hiring practices of a business you love or typing famous short stories, you need a catalyst in order to begin the process.
Pollock proved that emulation is not a bad place to start. He let his passion lead and followed it wherever it took him. His rudimentary approach had some drawbacksâhe admitted that his early stories read like cheap imitations of the men he admiredâbut eventually he discovered and developed his own voice. He went back to college and developed a style that blew away his professors first, editors and publishers later. He published two excellent books,
Knockemstiff
and
The Devil All the Time,
in his midfifties. Not surprisingly, the critics and the literary world fell in love with his stories.
Pollock merged his unique perspective with the technique of his favorite authors and his passion became his life.
We all need role models. Even the most driven and focused person draws inspiration from the success of others. Passion is a great GPS for life, but you can't just punch in an address and go flying past all the landmarks on your way to the destination. Over the course of allowing your passion to lead, you need to stop and learn a few lessons from those who have traveled the same path.
O
ne of the most influential fighters in my early career was Bas Rutten, a Dutch kickboxer, MMA heavyweight. Rutten's eclectic style of fighting and his use of body shots to put away opponents changed the way a lot of people viewed MMA as a combat sport. He beat just about anybody who was anybody in the UFC in the early days and, no one will disagree, is one of our sport's true pioneers.
But Rutten's greatest impact on my career was his personality and style
outside
the cage. I remember sitting at home just a year into my fight career and being so excited to get Bas Rutten's “El Guapo” technique DVD. I popped it in the player and got a little taste of the Bas personality. The menu picture on the screen was Bas in a Speedo, doing his signature jump-in-the-air splits, and a catchy song that he had written and produced was playing. The song told a hilarious story about a phone conversation with a girl. Bas was explaining to the girl, in musical phone conversation, of course, how he had just finished a big fight and that he wasn't able to have sex for a few weeks before his competitions. As he put it, “It's the rules, baby!” He then proceeded to try to convince her to come over to his house. The chorus was as follows: “I want to chill . . . (Kick back y'all) I want to relax . . . (Kick back y'all) I want to chill . . . (kick back y'all) and maybe have some sex (kick back ya'll).” It was super unexpected, but had me laughing hysterically. I had to share the song and the DVD with all my training partners and learned some great techniques from Bas along the way.
When I finally met Bas for the first time, I was on set with him in Japan for an interview on the Dream fight organization. During the interview, I paid homage to my Dutch heritage on my dad's side and told Bas, “My pop is full-blood Dutch, and my grandparents were immigrants from Holland.”
Bas looked at me with a big smile and said, “Uh-oh!”âthen turned directly to the camera and, with a cocked eyebrow, said in a deep voice, “Party time!”
When I got home three days later, my pop picked me up at the airport; as he swung the car door open to let me in, he was smiling ear to ear and all he said was “Party time!” We both started busting up laughing and then I gave him the lowdown on the Japan/Bas Rutten experience.
Bas's charisma and easy way of dealing with people struck me as impossibly cool long before I had actually decided to pursue fighting as my sole vocation. He loved the sport and the fans, and they reciprocated his love by forming a community around him. It's no surprise that Bas's demeanor and attitude helped him become a commentator after his fighting career was finished. To me, Bas is a perfect example of someone who invested in his passion and had it pay him back many times over, evenâ
especially
âafter he stopped fighting.
Another one of my heroes is the great Randy Couture. Randy and I had a mutual friend in Sacramento who brought Randy to my second fight. This may have been in the early days of MMA as we know it, but it was still a big deal to me, because Randy was already a major, respected talent in the fledgling fight community. To have him present at one of my early fights is something I'll never forget.
After the fight, my friend told me, “Hey, we're going with Randy to the Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas to watch the Tito OrtizâChuck Liddell fight. Randy says whoever wants to come is welcomeâand
you're
coming.”
Of course, I didn't protest. In a very short amount of time, I'd gone from someone who was begging for a chance to fight at the Colusa Casino to someone who was being invited to hang with Randy Couture before the first epic Ortiz-Liddell fight.
We ended up with eight or nine people piled into Randy's room. My high school sweetheart Michelle came out for a day and hung out with us. And here we were, hanging with not only a world champ, but
the
biggest name in the sportâin my eyes, a living legendâand simply being among the tiny posse was far and away the coolest thing ever. But it didn't stop there. Scott Smith was one of the other fighters who were on the trip. We went down to the pool at Mandalay Bay and hung out with Randy for a while. Randy was balding and wearing a Speedo, lying in his chair. Scott turned to me and said, “I'm not sure if I should feel cool because I'm hanging with Randy Couture or weird because I'm hanging with a forty-one year old in a Speedo.” We both laughed hard.
Randy was so engaging and easygoing and not only took the time to answer every silly question I had, but encouraged my fighting pursuits. I picked his brain about the fight game, but what affected me most is the same thing that drew me to Bas. There wasn't any one specific piece of advice he gave me, but he was so simple and real. Randy, to my surprise, had a son who was only three years younger than I was. I remember asking him details about his son, as well as realizing that this guy who I was so happy to be hanging with was almost old enough to be my dad. Randy was so down-to-earth.
“Yeah, he wrestled for a while growing up, but it wasn't his thing like it was for me. He's just a good kid. Not sure if he's gonna fight,” Randy said frankly. “Ryan [his son] just turned twenty-one not long before my fight with Tito [Ortiz] a few months ago and he came out to the fight. I get back up to my hotel room and he's passed out right in front of the door!” He laughed his hearty laugh, then went on: “I just picked him up and brought him in the room, don't think he's used to Vegas yet.” It wasn't anything intense talking with Randy, he was easygoing and kindâbut his willingness to simply include me meant more than I could express. For the first time I felt like my passion was being taken seriously by someone who was in a position to know. My presence in Vegas, in Couture's suite, was all the validation I needed at the time. I hadn't
arrived,
per se, but I felt I belonged to a brotherhood that understood where I'd been and where I wanted to go.
I was becoming more observant. By being around successful people who shared my passion, I was able to gain a better sense of myself. In any profession, you learn things along the way. You take the best qualities from people and try to emulate them. You forget the rest. And I remember looking at Randy Couture and thinking at the time,
If I ever get anywhere near that level in the sport, I'm going to be as supportive and cool as this guy.
I was determined not to take the opportunity for granted. I had a good time hanging with Randy, but I considered it work to an extent; I had the unique opportunity to observe how someone in the upper heights of the sport handled himself, and to learn from the experience. This wasn't about telling people about an awesome evening with Randy Couture; it was about learning through observation from one of the top performers and best role models my profession has ever known. The main lesson that I took from Randy was that he was just himself. His image as public figure was consistent with who he really was.
Find people who inspire you in everyday life and learn more about them. It could be a teacher or a family member, even someone you have never met. You can always search the Internet, buy a book, or simply introduce yourself. Be creative when you are pursuing your passion and relentless in your pursuit.
Eyes Forward
Y
ou can't be timid if you're going to put yourself in position to allow passion to run your life. Big changes demand big thoughts and big actions. But this doesn't mean you should quit your job immediately to pursue your passion of raising goats; you can't begin to do this until you're ready to move toward that goal on a creative, consistent basis. You should at least know how much goats cost, and how much land it will take to raise them. There are practical aspects to living the life you dream.
We've all heard countless stories of professional athletes who have made a ton of money, saved none of it, and ended up with very little to show for their careers. The disease is easy to diagnose: Athletes consider themselves invincible, and they never foresee a day when the money is going to stop flowing and the cheers are going to stop ringing in their ears. Even those who understand how fleeting success is in the profession often believe the fame will continue. These are the ones whose plan for the future is something vague like “become a movie star.” They don't bother with acting classes, of course, because their athletic fame will automatically compel directors to cast them in important, lucrative roles in big-budget films.
How often does this actually happen? Seldom enough to qualify as never.
It's no different with nonfamous people. Stuck in careers that pay well and provide all-important security, many people live for the promise of a comfortable retirement. They prepare financially but ignore everything else. With nothing but years of soul-crushing work on their résumés, they mistakenly believe they can be rid of the job and suddenly find themselves content and fulfilled. Their passions are either gone or buried under layers and layers of neglect, and by the time they realize this, it's too late. They might try to take up golf or another of the traditional leisure activities, but they find they don't have the patience or the physical ability to pick it up at a late age.
In a sense, they didn't take the acting classes either.
When I started fighting, I knew I would never have the earning power of someone like Mike Tyson, but I always had my future in mind. I wanted to maximize whatever opportunities were available to me, and the exposure I would get fighting would simply be a means to another end. I wanted to set myself up for a future career while I was competing in my present one.
With that as background, it might be easier to understand why I started a clothing line after my second professional fight. Very few people knew who I was, but that didn't stop me. I got the idea for a line of clothing called Alpha Male Clothing and I set about trying to make it work. I didn't know the first thing about starting a clothing line. I was a guy in a pair of mesh shorts that I put
ALPHA MALE
on the front because I thought the name was cool. Once I saw that people liked it, I figured it might be a fun and relatively easy way to make a few extra bucks.
Getting back to self-knowledge: I wasn't trying to compete with Nike. I didn't envision a multinational conglomerate. But I did think I could start small, create some small-scale buzz, and see where it would take me.
My first investor was my buddy Dustin Soderman. I convinced him to plunk down $250 to help me get started making T-shirts. Because of my coaching gig at UC Davis, almost immediately everyone on the wrestling team was sporting Alpha Male T-shirts. They were walking billboards for me, the best kind of free advertising, and then one of my friends on the UC Davis football team, Marc Manfredda, asked me how he could get one. I made it a point to learn the ins and outs of the clothing business, so when Marc asked for the license to produce the T-shirts and take a cut for himself, I saw an opportunity and obliged. It wasn't long before most of the football team was wearing them.
There wasn't a lot of money in those T-shirts by Nike standards, but there was enough to make a difference in my life at the time. I was busing tables at Ink, making eight grand a year as an assistant coach at UC Davis, and training for fights that were never guaranteed. So anything extra to help pay my $220-a-month rent was valued.
More than that, the experience taught me that I could be successful with an offshoot of my chosen profession. Later, I developed FORM Athletics with an incredible businessman named Mark Miller. We quickly sold it to K-Swiss for a significant amount of money. But without the baby steps I took with the built-in customer base for Alpha Male, the idea of FORM Athletics might have seemed daunting. Instead, I had the knowledge and experience of putting together a product and marketing it with minimal risk. Perhaps more important, I had the knowledge to partner with someone who had the business savvy to make it happen. But more on networks later.