Everybody who watches fights fills out an at-home scorecard as they go.
We all keep a running tab of who won the opening round, which fighter got the better of each exchange, and earned themselves a 10-9 in the second. As a result, there are times when we get up in arms over the announced scores, sometimes with good reason, others times for no reason at all.
More often than naught, the judges come under fire. Questions about their vision and math skills making a regular appearance alongside words you shouldn’t say around little kids and the belief that a trained monkey could do a better job.
We’ve all been there – annoyed with a certain result – but very few of us have actually been there, sitting next to the cage as a judge. Since my job requires me to be critical of officials, I thought it was only fair that I find out what it takes to earn one of the best seats in the house. When the opportunity to take “Big” John McCarthy’s COMMAND Course for Judges came up, I jumped at the chance.
This is my journey, my education and my experience; I hope you enjoy.
The Warm-Up
Like so many MMA fans, I was pretty certain that I had a sound knowledge of what it takes to judge a fight. After all, I’d watched countless events, thousands of fights ranging from one-sided blowouts and razor-thin decisions to absolute gong shows that the judges got 100% wrong. Still, I turned down an offer to judge a local event here in Victoria earlier in the winter. I’d like to say it was completely out of respect for the position, but part of it was because I didn’t want to screw up, submit the wrong score and scar a young fighter for life.
It happens, trust me.
Call me a purist or call me naive, it doesn’t really matter; I think the people sitting next to the cage handing out decisions that affect a fighter’s livelihood should have actual qualifications, and not just be local MMA writers or guys who train. I’m not saying those people couldn’t do a better job than some of the current crop of well known officials, or get it right every time, but personally, I wasn’t interested in turning in a scorecard until I knew for sure that I knew what I was doing.
Back in January, that opportunity presented itself.
Recently retired fighter Bill Mahood sent me an invitation on Facebook. Even before he hung up his four-ounce gloves, “The Butcher” was an integral part of the British Columbia Mixed Martial Arts Association (BCMMAA), an organization dedicated to helping expand the sport within Canada’s western-most province. He was bringing “Big” John to Vancouver to deliver his judges course, and wondered if I would be interested in signing up.
The price didn’t matter. While I wasn’t keen on a weekend away from my wife and dog – and staying with my mother-in-law to boot – we both knew I was paying the $400 and spending two days at the River Rock Casino Resort in hopes of becoming a COMMAND Certified Mixed Martial Arts Judge.
On the Monday before the course, an email arrived from Mahood. The subject line said something like COMMAND Itinerary. Opening the attached files gave me that empty stomach feeling you get when you take the first big drop on a roller coaster.
In addition to the weekend’s schedule, the email contained a course overview, detailing the requirements for passing the course: a mark of 90% or greater on each of three separate exams.
It also detailed the myriad takedowns, positions, submissions and strikes you were expected to be able to identify. I consider myself pretty knowledgeable when it comes to this sport, but even I was stumped on some of these things. Having never been on a mat a day in my life didn’t help, though I don’t think I would have known what the 100% Sweep looked like either way.
Sei-onagi, isn’t that a sushi roll with barbecued eel?
All I wanted to do was become a judge, now I was stuck studying definitions and watching demonstration videos on the Internet for a week. Passing was far from guaranteed.
Day One – Morning
Walking into the boardroom where we would spend the next two days drilling techniques and scoring fights was like high school all over again, complete with the questions about where to sit and whether or not you’ll be liked resurfacing internally.
I chose a seat against the wall halfway up the aisle on my right, having already noticed that Mahood and other local MMA personalities had congregated at the front left. If you’re John McCarthy and you’re asking questions in a classroom setting, who are you going to look to for answers – the guy pressed up against the wall looking a little nervous or experienced professionals who already know the answer? Yeah, me too.
Question: what’s the point of using those tent cards that you write your name on?
The sizeable bodies in the front row are obstructing your view of my wonderful penmanship, so why not just start out with pointing and try to remember my name is Spencer as we go?
I got my answer a minute later when we were called to hand over our payments. We all had to hold the tent cards under our chin so that Jerin Valel, McCarthy’s co-pilot on the COMMAND Courses, could take our pictures. Since there was no mention of pictures in the fear-inducing itinerary Mahood had sent me earlier in the week, I wore a hat and hadn’t shaved.
It really was feeling just like high school, bad picture and all.
After the impromptu photo session, we got down to business, beginning with the always enjoyable game of “Let’s go around the room; introduce yourself and tell us why you’re here.” When did I time warp back to Hamilton and St. Thomas More Catholic Secondary School circa 1994?
“My name is Spencer Kyte. I’m an MMA journalist,” I started.
“Alright, nobody talk to that guy,” McCarthy interrupted to a round of chuckles and applause. Nobody talk to that guy; yep, I was back in high school alright.
“I write for HeavyMMA.com and locally here in Vancouver for The Province. I’m here because my job requires me to be critical of officials, so I want to know what they know, or are supposed to know, and gain as much knowledge as possible,” I finished to a series of nodding heads.
With me in the room that day were a tremendous range of weekend students. There were former fighters, current referees and regional promoters, two members of the Vancouver Athletic Commission looking to learn more about the sport, a pair of local boxing judges hoping to increase their MMA aptitude and a bunch of guys with a desire to learn more and get more involved in their MMA communities.
The guys from the Athletic Commission had camped out beside me. The room had been unintentionally divided into sections, with most of the experienced individuals on one side, and me and the rest of the inexperienced and curious on the other. McCarthy was definitely going to the other side of the room with questions first, just as I planned when I picked my seat.
John McCarthy is a presence.
For starters, he is very much deserving of being called “Big” and when he speaks, there is an authority and tenor to the things he says that just forces you to pay attention. He’s also an icon in this sport.
Whatever your opinion of him as a referee or personality, McCarthy helped get this sport to where it is today and goes down in the MMA history books, especially here in North America. Not only was the one of the first referees to set foot in the UFC Octagon, but he co-wrote the Unified Rules of Mixed Martial Arts that we still follow today.
I have no problem admitting I had a “That’s Big John McCarthy” moment when I walked in the door for the first time; I think everyone who had never met the man before did too. Then he busted my chops about being the guy no one should talk to and cursed half a dozen times – not for emphasis or effect, but just because that’s how he talks – and I settled in, ready to find out all the things I didn’t know.
Sitting opposite McCarthy at the front of the room was Valel. The Winnipeg, Manitoba native alternated between nodding in agreement or shaking his head in objection to the things being said. He’s been a fighter, referee and judge. He also passed McCarthy’s daunting referees course early in the program’s inception, and now serves as co-instructor.
Jerin breaks things down to the core, stripping away all the MMA nomenclature and making sure everyone without any experience on the mats knows what is being discussed. He also does a mean Nick Diaz impression, complete with in-fight trash talking and hands held up above his head. Seeing him bounce around across from McCarthy, calling him “bitch” and offering perfect Diaz pitter-patter jabs is priceless.
Normally, sitting through three-plus hours of PowerPoint slides is tough sledding. But for a guy like me who would much rather talk about any aspect of MMA than anything else in the world, it’s cake. If you’re not ready for it or can’t focus without three shots of 5 Hour Energy, you’re in for a long morning.
When we break for coffee, I start feeling comfortable about being there. Paul Lazenby and I shake hands and exchange pleasantries, having worked together on a couple different occasions. John Cooper introduces himself, laughing, adding that it’s nice to finally meet after being Facebook friends for the better part of a year; he’s a referee and King of the Cage promoter on Vancouver Island.
I talk with Jonathan Tweedale of the Vancouver Athletic Commission. He asks about where I write, I tell him how awesome it is that members of the VAC are taking the course, and we discuss our choices for best MMA site.
I go with MMA Fighting because I can’t say Heavy; picking my own site makes me look like a self-important asshole, and while I am, he doesn’t need to know that right now.
He counters with Sherdog and I’m off to the races. I have no problem with the site as a whole, but offer an objection on the basis that you cannot cover a sport as well when you’re not at the biggest events.
“I can’t cover the Canucks from home as well as someone who is sitting in the press box and standing in the dressing room after the game,” is the analogy I drop. At the next break, Tweedale tells me he thinks I’m right about the whole Sherdog thing.
Day One – Afternoon
When we regroup after lunch, the tables are pushed forward and we’re finally getting to some hands-on learning.
After a morning of PowerPoint slides breaking down what we should be looking for as judges and a few stories that won’t be shared here, Jerin is ready to go through the 110 techniques listed on the itinerary as moves you “need to be able to identify prior to starting the course.”
I’m not exaggerating either. There are 110 techniques to have an understanding of before you start the course. This isn’t a weekend retreat with games and making friendship bracelets; it’s work and it’s hard, but is 100% worth it. I think. So far.
This was the most difficult part of the course for me, and not because I didn’t know certain holds.
In a class divided 60/40 with inexperienced participants making up the bigger portion, listening to the experienced set detour the demonstrations from learning the holds and the accepted names for testing purposes to “Well we call it this” and “Do you remember when so-and-so used that on so-and-so?” over and over and over is like nails on a chalkboard. I love sitting around bullshitting about old fights more than anyone I know, but when there are people in the room trying to learn, myself included, I need you to stay on point.
Jerin was frustrated by this too. He repeatedly breaks out his signature phrase “there’s too much white noise,” trying to bring the focus back to making sure that the neophytes knew what the hell a 100% sweep looked like. After all, personal opinions about how Eddie Bravo names his moves wasn’t going to be on the tests tomorrow.
Regardless of the surrounding chatter, the demonstrations cleared up a lot of questions for a lot of people, and that is one of the important things to take away from a course like this. While everyone hopes to pass, it hasn’t happened yet that an entire class were presented with certifications at the end of the two-day marathon. But pass or fail, everyone can walk away with an increased understanding of what they’re watching during a fight.
After a quick break, we turned to watching fights and handing in practice scorecards.
We’d watch a round, turn in our scores and then pause while John and Jerin sorted through the slips. Once the votes were tallied, John would go through and ask different people to explain why they scored the round the way they did. As I anticipated at the start of the day, it usually began with someone on the other side of the room.
Needless to say, an argument or two took place during this exercise. Every answer for Fighter A was counter-punched by a participant who saw Fighter B getting the better of things. At the end of the discussion, John and Jerin weighed-in with who they felt won the round.
This is where I first started to worry about the “scoring the fight” test that was coming the following day, and here’s why: judging is subjective and you don’t get to watch each round with slow motion replays and a rewind button.
While I could see how John and Jerin came to their conclusions on who should have been awarded the round when we broke the fight down minute-by-minute, I knew there was a chance I wasn’t going to see those things when the action was “live.” After all, this is why we have close fights and split decisions in the first place, right?
The confidence I had built throughout the afternoon was shaken thanks to a couple of close fights that I score “the wrong way.” While I wasn’t second-guessing my knowledge, I knew that I wanted to be of sound mind on Sunday, so instead of heading to the casino’s theatre to watch an evening of fights, I jumped on the SkyTrain, transferred to the bus, walked two miles up the hill in the pouring rain and went to bed.
I wasn’t going to be the guy who failed because I was out having fun when I should have been studying and getting a good night’s sleep. I’d already been there, done that, got the three-year degree that took me four-and-a-half years to prove it. No need to revisit the University of Waterloo when the first half of the day had already felt similar to high school. Just get some sleep and be ready for tomorrow.
Besides, we were starting at eight and Jerin was coming in an hour early to go over techniques one more time. That meant I had to be at the bus stop by 6:15 if I didn’t want to miss out on the extra instructional time.
Day Two is going to be a torture.