The last trace of Brock Lesnar’s presence in the Octagon was discarded by an attendant — a swatch of crimson gauze, one of several used to stop the flow of blood from the sizable gash under his left eye.
The Baddest Man on the Planet didn’t look so bad Saturday night at the Honda Center, his reign as UFC heavyweight champion, at least the first installment of it, now finished after just the third defense of his official title. Then again, in Cain Velasquez, the badder man had come up against a better one.
As it ended, the cut — a couple of inches that traced Lesnar’s cheekbone — was still dripping. The brow above his left eye had swollen into a grotesque ridge.
“What can I say?” Lesnar asked. “He was better than me tonight.”
A couple of days ago, Lesnar had bragged that he had no talent for defeat, that he was the sorest of losers. But Saturday night, with 14,856 very loud fans in attendance, he was anything but. In fact, considering where he had been just moments before — on his back, trying to cover up as Velasquez rained down with an assortment of fists and elbows — he seemed sort of relieved.
Referee Herb Dean stopped the fight 4:12 into the first round. The call made Velasquez the first heavyweight champion of Mexican descent in any professional combat sport. It also signaled the end of a great white hope for the UFC’s most marketable fighter.
It bears another mention: MMA isn’t like boxing. A title isn’t something you hold for long. The biggest guys lose. Just the same, UFC boss Dana White had already been considering the lucrative possibility that Lesnar was something different. “If anyone has a shot, it’s him,” he said the other day. “This guy could be invincible for however many years he competes.”
Now it turns out that Lesnar isn’t a dynasty, just another guy who went two and out.
His entrance was very arena-rock, and his charge in the opening seconds an actual thrill. At 264 pounds, Lesnar is so damn wide. You could hear the sound of his steps. Bull-rush is an apt description. One had the distinct sense that Lesnar’s technique — if that’s what you want to call it — owed something to the animal kingdom.
Now, the highlights:
They were trading blows as Lesnar drove Velasquez into the black chain-link fencing. A gasp from the crowd. Velasquez dropped an elbow on the back of Lesnar’s head. Lesnar took him down. Velasquez escaped, and as the fighters rose, you saw a red mouse under Lesnar’s left eye. Then Velasquez cracked him with a right hand.
It wasn’t the kind right hand that should pose a problem for a professional fighter. It was the kind of right thrown in a bar perilously close to last call.
But with his hands down, Lesnar couldn’t catch or parry the blow. He certainly couldn’t slip it. He might have been a champion wrestler, but after seven pro fights going back more than three years, he lacks even rudimentary boxing skills. No stand-up game, as it’s known in MMA parlance.
Lesnar went sprawling across the ring. All of a sudden, he didn’t look so big and bad.
“I saw his head go back,” said Velasquez, recalling that his opponent’s feet got wide and his stance unbalanced.
Velasquez attacked from behind, taking down Lesnar, throwing punches and elbows. Lesnar rose. Then Velasquez cracked him again, another right. Lesnar crumbled. Now Velasquez was over him.
“I was taking my time,” Velasquez said , “looking for shots.”
Elbows. Fists. Fist. Elbow.
Lesnar’s face became a shiny red mask.
“It kind of surprised me, how he came forward in the beginning,” Velasquez would say. “But I just told myself to relax.”
Relaxed as he was, and 20 pounds lighter than Lesnar, Velasquez had to chastise himself for the sloppy exchange early in the fight. “I get in a brawl mode,” he said. “And I shouldn't have gotten away from the game plan.”
If only Lesnar had that kind of fighter’s discipline, he might have had a shot. Now it’s Cain Velasquez’ time. He’s 9-0, and again, the first Mexican heavyweight champ.
“The moment I worked so hard for is finally here,” he said.
Velasquez, also a storied collegiate wrestler, now becomes an important marketing tool in the UFC’s quest to conquer Latin America. But he’s symbolically potent, too, the son of a field hand who was denied the first six of his seven attempts to cross the border from Mexico.
Unfortunately, what he has in ability, he lacks in charisma. He’s not the baddest man — merely the best.
Brock Lesnar, who took a pass on the post-fight presser, understood all too well.
“He doesn’t want to take away from Cain’s moment,” Dana White said. “Plus, he’s still getting stitched.”
