by Nick Gullo
Yes. Because the gym’s proximity to Lorenzo’s M&A activities provided an unobstructed view of the process by which companies are launched. There is no success in a vacuum. Much as we think ourselves so smart, so creative, so original—that’s just the little reels looping in our heads.
During the 1970s, Japanese researchers documented macaque monkeys on the island of Koshima washing potatoes in a river, which was odd. Where the hell’d they learned that? But even crazier was how the younger monkeys watched, and mimicked, and before long twenty monkeys stood in the river, scrubbing away. New Age gurus embellished and repackaged the anecdote as a lesson in sweeping ideological change, the “100th Monkey Effect”—but there’s another message: to truly understand any behavior, find its model.
So here I am, scouring every article on the rise of UFC, and they’re all the same: a few photos, a few direct quotes, a few well-worn milestones—the “chance reunion of Dana and Lorenzo at a friend’s wedding,” the Zuffa acquisition, the financial hardships, The Ultimate Fighter success, the Fox Network deal; but not one write-up explained how a guy with zero corporate experience lifted an entire sport from the ashes and into the national consciousness, in the process trouncing such business titans as Donald Trump, Mark Cuban, and Viacom.
What, where, when doesn’t always answer how. But it’s not that complicated a riddle, once you consider those monkeys. Or, as this is a book on MMA, let’s return to the dojo, where every great jiu-jitsu practitioner is first and foremost evaluated via lineage. Take Royce’s pedigree:
Mitsuyo Maeda > Carlos Gracie > Helio Gracie > Royce Gracie
Business is no different. Information and practices flow mentor to student, each sensei modeling success and imparting wisdom. Neither Steve Jobs nor Bill Gates graduated college, but they both learned from mentors—for Jobs, Robert Noyce; for Gates, Dr. Ed Roberts.
So here’s Dana’s business lineage:
Mr. Frank Fertitta, Jr. > Frank Fertitta III > Lorenzo Fertitta > Dana White
Mr. Frank Fertitta, Jr. founded Station Casinos in the mid-seventies, and after taking the company public in 1993, he retired and son Frank stepped in as president.
To say Mr. Fertitta mentored his sons is an understatement. “From a young age he exposed Frank and Lorenzo to every aspect of the company,” Dana told me. “He loved to talk business with them. It’s how they bonded.”
For years D.W. watched Lorenzo work, quietly attending meetings, listening to investment details over lunches/dinners, so when he learned the UFC was on the blocks, he thought, This is it, the opportunity every investor seeks … if I pitch this correctly, we could really grow this thing and bring it from the Dark Ages … I could get into the fight business like I always wanted.
“What’s crazy is that a month before this I was approached by an investor who was launching the WFA [World Fighting Alliance, a rival MMA organization] and they guy offered me a car, a house, and a good salary, to run the thing,” Dana told me, “This was a great deal, but when I told Lorenzo, he looked at me like, ‘Are you fucking serious, I thought we were going to do something together.’ I said, ‘Done, I’m not doing it.’ ”
Was that difficult to turn down?
“No, if I was going into business with someone, I wanted it to be Lorenzo. I just didn’t know if he was serious. I mean, he’s got a lot going on. And the question becomes, what are we going to do, promote boxing? We’d have to start from scratch—which of course we would have figured out—but there was nothing on the table. Then, not even a month later, I find out the UFC is in trouble and for sale. I call him up and go dude—’
Although Royce never trained with the long-deceased Maeda, following the UFC acquisition, Dana established his personal war-room adjacent to Mr. Fertitta’s office. Every afternoon the two met, sensei and student.
“He didn’t approve of their investing in the company, and this was a big deal, as they had never gone against his advice. But thankfully, this time they went with their guts and bought the thing, and what’s amazing is Mr. Fertitta never held it against me. Every afternoon he’d come in and we’d discuss marketing, the books, even fighter negotiations. I learned from him, and in turn he learned about the fight business, which allowed him to continue those discussions with his boys.”
For me, the question is, why invest with Dana? The Fertitta brothers have plenty of friends. Highly educated friends. And on paper, the brothers couldn’t appear more different from Dana—they come from stable families, he doesn’t. They come from money, he doesn’t. They were both educated at elite universities, he’s wasn’t.
But they share something more important than biographical stats. They share a ruthless competitive ethos. “It’s just how I see the world,” Dana told me, “when you get up every morning life is ready to kick you in the face, and you better be ready to kick back.”
Is this due to your dysfunctional home life?
“Listen, I like to win. I don’t know why, but I am a fucking conqueror. And it’s not just Affliction, Pride, or Viacom [competing organizations]. When we go live on Saturday night, I want to beat the NBA. I want to beat the NFL. Come Monday I can’t wait to check the ratings. This last weekend in Winnipeg, the biggest gate they’d ever done was $1.8 million, set by the Rolling Stones. We did $3.2 million. We smashed the Rolling Stones. That pumps me more than anything. I always want to win. That’s what fuels me.”
That motivates you more than the curse? I say, and we both laugh. Around the corporate offices there’s talk of a “UFC curse”—as in all that defy the UFC, sooner or later, lose; whether it’s a competing brand, a disloyal employee, or a seditious fighter. And Dana loves to watch them fall.
“Yeah, I can hold a grudge. When I used to go out and try and sell the UFC, I’d have doors slammed in my face so fast, and yes, that drove me harder. I’d think, You’ll see, motherfucker, you’re going to want this someday, and I’m not going to forget it. Take DC shoes. I used to love that brand. I wore the shirts, the shoes, you name it. I mean, skateboarding is like the biggest renegade sport in the world—for years everybody shit on skateboarders. So one day I call them and tell them their logo would look great in the Octagon, and they said they would never, ever be involved in a sport like that. I’m not kidding you when I tell you that night I went home and burned every fucking DC thing I owned. To this day I won’t wear DC. I love Rob Dyrdek, but I wouldn’t even buy DC for my kids.”
That’s it: whether fueled by dreams of conquering the world or simple vengeance, Dana is the most driven person I know. I crash and he’s still on the phone. I wake and he’s pacing the room. Slow down, relax, I tell him, but he just scoffs. If you’re looking for a roadmap, that’s how the most “unlikely to succeed” conquers all.
Two years ago I followed Dana into that arena. The lights. The noise. The energy. As a friend, I needed to understand this world. So I dove down the rabbit hole, and you’re holding the result. Here’s my take-away:
MMA is the most misunderstood sport on the planet. On talk shows and news reports, critics wag fingers and complain that hand-to-hand combat somehow undermines society—but their arguments ignore how this “mock combat” unites and inspires us. Whether it’s reality-as-theater or theater-as-reality, the hero’s journey transcends borders, languages, and cultures; and for the fighters, the cage is the field upon which they test their resolve.
Dana’s story isn’t simply one of wealth or fame; it’s the story of a disadvantaged kid who took on the world and won. It’s the story of a fighter.
14: FIGHT WEEK
Build it and they will come—arena construction.
Brock Lesnar and Alistair Overeem selling the fight.
Pre-fight Thursday press conference—Seattle, Washington, December 2012.
Friday: Backstage of the official weigh-in: Fighters await their call. Here Dana talks with Diaz camp.
One by one the fighters take the stage, weigh in, then face off for the cameras. Here Brad Pickett versus Eddie Winelan
d.
After weigh-ins fighters gather for “Fighter Speech,” in which Dana inspires the fighters and offers performances bonuses.
Always amped! Clay Guida, post weigh-in, ready to eat.
Fighter bus, on the way back to the hotel. Here: T.J. Dillashaw and Justin Buchholz.
Friday night: Dana approves every walkout song.
Craig Borsari heads up production meeting.
Fans run for free tickets announced via Twitter.
Skipper Kelp hands out free tickets.
Nick the Tooth and Joe Lauzon grappling for UFC 155 video blog.
Nick and Dana at Temple Bar, Dublin, Ireland.
Nick the Tooth and Brad Pickett filming. London, England.
Nick the Tooth quenches his thirst. Levant, Maine.
Fight Night.
Cageside seats; the monitor is often the best view.
“Making the Rounds”: Arianny Celeste.
“Best Seat in the House”: Brittney Palmer.
Victory: Matt Brown. UFC on Fox: Henderson versus Diaz.
PHOTOGRAPHIC CAPTIONS AND CREDITS
This page: Joel Kinnaman, star of Robocop, enters the arena.
Chapter 1: Into the cage, Ken Stone.
Chapter 2: Dana White and Royce Gracie, talking cageside.
Chapter 3: Rory MacDonald training.
Chapter 4: Chad Mendes emerges victorious.
Chapter 5: The Tao of Silva: Anderson backstage with Rodrigo Damm.
Chapter 6: B.J. Penn vs. Rory MacDonald.
Chapter 7: Myles Jury surfing.
Chapter 8: Jon Jones.
Chapter 9: Ronda Rousey, the first UFC Women’s Champion
Chapter 10: Cast members look at The Ultimate Fighter wall of fame.
Chapter 11: UFC 148.
Chapter 12: Joe Rogan calling the fight.
Chapter 13: Dana White.
Chapter 14: Weigh-in in New Orleans.
Additional image credits: this page, designed by Roots of Fight, images courtesy of UFC; this page, designed by Roots of Fight, image courtesy of Shannon Lee and Bruce Lee Enterprises, www.brucelee.com; this page, designed by Roots of Fight, images courtesy of The Gracie Academy.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Taylor and Carson, my two girls: for your unending support, and sharing this ride.
Dana White: for a lifelong friendship, and always letting me be me.
Lorenzo and Frank Fertitta: for your patience and generosity.
Anne and the kids: for sharing your home and always laughing at the madness.
The entire UFC tribe—the staff, the fighters, the managers—too many to name, but a few that went beyond the call of duty: Craig Borsari, Kirk Hendrick, Rich Chou, Ed Soares, Jesse Katz, Joe Rogan, Reed Harris, Fredson Paixao, Joe Williams, Isabelle Hodges, Donna Marcolini, Dave Sholler.
Pat Tenore: for supporting artists.
My early readers: Jeremy Asher Lynch, my brother Tony.
David Forrer, my agent: for pushing this project when the odds were long.
Jenny Bradshaw: the most patient and generous editor an author could want.
Jordan Fenn, Leah Springate, Janine Laporte, and Ruta Liormonas: for publishing, designing, producing, and spreading the word about the book.
My parents: for putting that first book in my hands.