Flashback to UFC 38: The Promotion’s First UK Show
Published by Jim Genia on February 24th, 2009 in History

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A British slugger derailed a heavyweight on the championship fast track, a welterweight powerhouse proved once and for all that the win that earned him the belt was no fluke, and a booze-fueled afterparty ended with a back alley melee of epic proportions. Since April of 2007 the UFC has made eight trips to the far side of the Atlantic, but UFC 38: “Brawl at the Hall” in July, 2002, was the promotion’s first venture into the land of tea and crumpets. And thanks to Ian Freeman’s utter destruction of Frank Mir, Matt Hughes’ dominant performance over Carlos Newtown, and a drunken donnybrook involving Pat Miletich, Tito Ortiz, Lee Murray and a dozen other men eager to use their fists, it was a memorable one.

London, England – specifically, the esteemed Royal Albert Hall – was Zuffa, LLC’s first destination outside of the United States after they bought the ailing UFC from SEG in 2001. And why not England, a country rich in pugilistic history and at least marginally tolerant of what was then just a fringe sport? Of course, in the days leading up to the event Dana White and company were mired in legal wrangling, for the 131-year-old Royal Albert Hall wanted out when they realized they’d actually be hosting a cagefighting event. But the signed venue contract in White’s hand was ultimately deemed binding, and when the time would come for the first fighters to throw down on that July 13th evening, Brits would turn out in droves and hoot and holler, as true fight fans are apt to do.

In the workout room at the hotel days before, Josh Barnett schooled whoever wanted to roll with him (a Machado brown belt, a fan or two), and you could tell Gil Castillo was sick just by looking at him, hacking and coughing notwithstanding. It took no great leap in logic to assume his bout against Tony de Souza was in trouble. Which was a shame, as this was three-time UFC veteran de Souza’s one chance to return to the Octagon. An expired visa and stricter immigration rules after September 11th had conspired to keep the Peruvian national out of the States, and no Zuffa-employed attorney had the mojo to fix that, so it was London or bust; de Souza’s bout would end up in the “bust” category. Yet Evan Tanner’s match-up against Australian late-replacement Chris Haseman was still on, as was Elvis Sinosic’s pairing against Renato “Babalu” Sobral and Eugene Jackson’s fight against UK striker Mark Weir.

The only hitches at the weigh-in were Hughes having to strip to make weight and the scramble to covert pounds to stone (we use pounds here, they use stone there). Then it was fight time, and Zuffa took everyone via bus from the hotel to the venue, which overlooked the verdant green of Hyde Park and epitomized the word “prestigious”. Fans filtered in, eventually packing the place (the Queen’s private box, traditionally held vacant for her in case she were to make an appearance, would remain empty the entire night).

In 2002, England had some serious catching up to do in terms of MMA skill-levels, so it was a given that Genki Sudo would have his way with Leigh Remedios, that King of the Cage veteran Phillip Miller would pound out Brit boxer James Zikic, and that the hard-hitting Jackson would likely knock out Weir. And it was believed far and wide that Mir would have no trouble at all submitting Freeman. But things don’t always go as you’d expect them to. After a preliminary card that saw Tanner pound on Haseman for three rounds and Babalu absolutely maul Sinosic for the unanimous decision, the crowd went bananas for Zikic – who, though unable to prevent Miller from taking him down, did manage to rally here and there and deliver some punishment of his own. Remeidos (who was visibly anxious pre-fight) survived the colorful Sudo’s grappling to make it to Round 2, where he succumbed to a rear naked choke, and Weir needed only ten seconds to dispatch “The Wolf” with a lightning-fast punch. The hometown audience definitely had things to cheer for. Freeman’s once-in-a-lifetime performance was the icing on the cake.

As Ian “The Machine” Freeman made his way down the ramp to the cage, word circulated around press row that his father – stricken with illness and hospitalized during Freeman’s training camp – had passed away. This, coupled with the fact that his opponent had needed less than two minutes combined to defeat Brazilian black belt Roberto Traven and Lion’s Den warrior Pete Williams in his only two UFC appearances, made for some serious drama, drama that Freeman turned from Greek tragedy to Rocky story as he dodged every heelhook and leglock and beat on Mir mercilessly. After four and a half minutes the American could barely manage a stumble, and referee Big John McCarthy waved the bout off. Afterwards, the victorious Freeman was handed a microphone, and he dedicated the fight to his sick father, unaware the man had passed. The crowd went nuts. Those in on the awful secret were teary eyed.

Hughes has no trouble with Newton. In between winning the belt and this rematch, the Illinois wrestler had pounded out the highly-regarded Mach Sakurai, and whatever holes in his game there were at UFC 34 (when he earned a controversial win over Newton), those holes were gone by UFC 38. Hughes TKO’d the Canadian in Round 4, defending his belt for a second time and silencing critics who believed he’d had no right to it in the first place.

Say what you want about Zuffa, but they know how to host an afterparty. When the dust had settled at the Royal Albert Hall, White and company ushered everyone (fighters, press et al.) back onto the bus and took them to an upscale nightclub in downtown London, where drinks were on them – a gesture not lost on anyone thirsty and looking to cut loose. Despite his quick knockout, Jackson was all smiles. Babalu wandered about in freshly-gelled spiked hair and dark shades. A battered and bruised Sinosic sat on a couch watching the pay-per-view replay on a TV. Chuck Liddell rapped with any number of females (not many knew too much about mixed martial arts at the time, but women dig fighters no matter what). And throughout the night, Tito Ortiz’s buddy Beau would tie up with Miletich, playfully horsing around like men with wrestling backgrounds sometimes do – something that Miletich teammate Tony Fryklund would mistake for an actual act of aggression. The lore surrounding the ensuing back alley brawl has Beau getting stomped, Ortiz charging Lee Murray and winding up KO’d, Liddell indiscriminately dropping people, bobbies with mace, and everyone fleeing, hopping in cabs back to the hotel in Knightsbridge. But the common denominator was the excess of alcohol. In the hotel lobby the next day, a worse-for-wear Ortiz admitted he had been “really, really drunk” – sentiments everyone one else shared.

It would be almost five years before the UFC returned to England, a far more popular and accepted sport than what had come to London years before. Yet no one who’d been there at UFC 38, with its beatdowns and brawls, would ever forget it.