by Bruce Buffer
On one hand, my love of MMA teaches me to love good movie fights and despise bad ones. I can always tell if the people throwing the blows have some boxing or MMA training. That’s why I enjoyed movies like Seagal’s Above the Law or Jet Li’s Romeo Must Die. I can watch between the blows and see how they have adapted techniques from the real fight world.
Now, to be honest, I myself can even point out flaws in Chuck’s movie fights. I have always felt Seagal’s fight scenes were more realistic. Typically, the characters he’s playing don’t just drop their opponents—they maim them to the point where they can’t get back up. That’s exactly what you’d do in a street fight, terrible as it may sound.
I found Seagal to be a very intelligent, classy, and interesting man who displays not a hint of BS. We spent the night talking about a million little things: his work in law enforcement, the respect he has for the officers he works with, the great Bruce Lee and the tragedy of his early death, and our mutual love of guns. He’s one of a few actors other than Steve McQueen and Lee Marvin, both former U.S. Marines, who always impressed me with their display of firearm expertise in film.
We had a great time that night. As we headed back to the hotel, I couldn’t help thinking how often two of my biggest passions in life kept colliding.
I love movies. I love fight culture. When both come together, I’m a happy man.
22
360
When I set out to become an announcer, I never sat around thinking to myself, Hmmm … if I’m going to this do, I need a catchphrase. I was obviously well aware from the work I’d done with Michael’s trademark that signature lines could be profitable if marketed correctly, but I wasn’t about to consciously concoct one of my own. I felt there would never be another phrase as marketable in sports and entertainment as “Let’s Get Ready to Rumble.” I never wanted to come across as mimicking my brother, nor was I ever phrase-driven, as almost every other announcer is. I’ve always believed in the saying “It’s not what I say, it’s how I say it.”
If it was going to happen, it would have to happen naturally, organically. It was going to have to spring out of who I was and what I was moved to do in the Octagon. That’s why I never really rehearsed my announcing, and still don’t.
In the world of sports broadcasting, aspiring sportscasters talk about “getting clear”—perfecting their commentating voice so that they can call games or riff on the air without the very natural hems and haws of ordinary speech. Sometimes you’ll see young people sitting in the stands at a baseball game, for instance, calling the game into a mic attached to a digital tape recorder. Later they’ll review the recording and see how well they did. Good for them. They have a dream and they are taking steps to perfect their craft.
I just never did that. The thought of standing in my living room or in my home office practicing phrases like WE ARE LIVE or IT’S TIME or even reading off the names of the fighters I’m going to be announcing this weekend, just feels weird to me. Inauthentic. False. If you want to get deep about it, I think that doing such a thing would also set up two realities for me. The rehearsal voice, and the live-in-the-Octagon voice. I don’t want those two voices in my head. Better to just do it live. I’m a professional. I’ve done it tons of times. I know how to pull it off.
I guess you could say that the way I practice my job is, I do my job. In the early days I sought out smaller venues and fights that let me have a chance to perfect my mannerisms, my diction, and my voice. That was my version of sitting in the stands speaking into a mic. Real fights immediately showed me what I needed to know to do the job. How loud I had to speak. How to pace myself. How to juggle the mic and cards. How to move around the ring or Octagon.
I’m the first to admit that the phrases associated with me—IT’S TIME TO BEGIN, IT’S TIME, WE ARE LIVE, or THIS IS THE MOMENT YOU’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR—are not hugely creative. But they’re natural. They’re exactly what you’d expect to hear in that moment and in that setting. The only thing that’s special about them is how I deliver the words. My passion, you could say, speaks louder than the words themselves. My love of the sport elevates these simple words to something worthy of your attention.
5 ANNOUNCER CATCHPHRASES THAT DIDN’T MAKE THE CUT
1. It’s almost time!
2. Everybody limbo!
3. Let’s get ready to rhumba!
4. We … are … taped!
5. This is the moment some of us have been thinking about for a good long while now.
Early on, I discovered that I liked to move around inside the Octagon. If you stand in one place, someone is always looking at your back. Meanwhile, the fighters are in two different spots in the Octagon, approximately thirty feet apart. From the very beginning, it seemed only natural to me that an announcer would want to somehow “bridge” that gap and try to connect the two men in the audience’s mind.
The audience at any fight, from boxing to MMA, is primed for motion, for action. But what happens at the start of most fights? A bunch of people stand in the ring or Octagon, and nobody really moves. But if I start in one corner, announce a fighter, then move across the Octagon to the other fighter, I’m drawing the audience’s eyes to the second man. They follow me, and they’re engaged.
One time I almost screwed up. I’ve forgotten which UFC event it was, but I was about to say:
“Introducing first … fighting out of the Blue Corner …”
I realized that because I was moving around so much, I was actually facing the fighter in the Red Corner instead. I had only a couple of microseconds to correct this. My left brain told my right brain that I had to move. Without thinking, I reverted to an old kickboxing move—the spinning bottom fist—and did a split-second, full-body spin as I belted out the word FIGHTING!
I was glad that I’d corrected myself.
But I noticed that the crowd perked up. I heard a chorus of approving sounds and murmurs ripple through the arena.
I had just done my first Buffer 180, though, in my mind, I called it a whip-turn until fans started calling it the Buffer 180.
Now, I could have dropped it after that fight and simply focused better on what I was doing. But I liked the way it felt, the reaction it got, and it seemed to broadcast more than any other gesture my energy and passion at that very moment. Moreover, like the words I had begun to say before each fight, the Buffer 180 grew naturally and spontaneously out of who I am.
Well, naturally, the Buffer 180 would eventually get people chattering on the Internet about the possibility of a 360. I frankly enjoyed the chatter. It showed that people were getting a kick out of what I was doing. The fans weren’t just counting the seconds until the fight started. (Well, okay, maybe they were, and so was I.) The point was, I had taken what was typically an important yet static part of any bout, and injected movement, passion, and entertainment into it. The fans were responding.
Besides me, the person who is most responsible for the 360 coming into existence is Joe Rogan.
Joe and I go way back. He started working with the UFC back in 1997, with UFC 12. He’s a cool guy, and he’s got remarkable range. He’s an actor. He does stand-up. He’s a sports commentator who is extremely cerebral and quick-witted. And he’s a true mixed martial artist in his own right. He’s an original, and the fights would not be the same without him and his commentary.
I’ve always liked Joe, and with all we’ve experienced over the years together with the UFC, we’ve built a very cool and mutually respectful friendship. I’m a big fan of his comedy and have taken in his show multiple times on the road and in L.A.
He came on my radio show once, and we talked about sensory deprivation tanks. He has one in his home and is a big believer in their ability to combat stress and enhance quality of life. He even hooked me up with an installer near my home, and I went and tried one out. The experience was mind-blowing, or maybe I should say mind-relaxing. I found it to be a lot like meditation, which I’ve practiced for years. The water is loaded with Ep
som salts, so you float in it with only your face poking out. You can’t hear a thing and you just let your body and mind flow as you relax. Afterward, you feel energized and completely stress-free. If I had an extra room in my house, I’d probably install one, the way Joe has done.
Joe’s obsessed with UFOs. He’s probably read about and watched more TV specials about UFOs than anyone on the planet. We’ve also bonded over this because, believe it or not, I actually spotted a UFO when I was about nineteen years old. It was 4:30 a.m. in Trancas Canyon in Malibu, where I lived. I was getting into my car to head to work at the telemarketing job when I saw a ball of light coming up from back in the canyon. It appeared right overhead where I was standing. I followed it to the coastline, where it went out over the water, turned south, and then just—ZAP—disappeared.
Later that day on the TV news, I heard that a woman in Palos Verdes, about fifty miles south of Malibu, reported seeing a UFO at around 6:00 a.m. that same day.
Coincidence?
On the way to work, I was still shaking inside. I had to tell someone. So I went into the sheriff’s station in downtown Malibu and told the officers at the desk what I’d seen. I braced myself to hear them brush me off. Instead, they surprised me.
“We believe you,” they said. “We patrol this coast every day, and we’ve seen some very strange things over the ocean at night. So don’t worry, kid. It’s okay.”
That comforted me—slightly.
Somehow the Malibu Times got hold of the story. A reporter called to interview me, and then ran an article on the incident. My friends got a big laugh out of it, but many believed me. All I can say is, I know what I saw. Spielberg’s Close Encounters of the Third Kind came out shortly after, and hit home with me. The SETI Institute, which conducts research on extraterrestrial intelligence, sent me a batch of paperwork to fill out and sign. Their questionnaire asked tons of questions. Was I abducted? Did I experience loss of memory? And on and on.
As I told Joe the day we talked about this, “If we are here, then why can’t they be there?”
But back to the 360. I have to say that if I have any mystique at all, I owe a lot of it to Joe because he took the time to show fans that what I did in the Octagon was worthy of their adulation and interest. The hilarious videos he’s done about me and my work have gone viral on YouTube, driving the legend of the 360 even further into the hearts and minds of UFC fans leading up to UFC 100.
You’re probably seen the before-and-after videos. But here’s what was going on behind the scenes building up to that moment.
As soon as fans started talking about a 360, Joe started nudging me about it whenever we ran into each other at UFC events. “Hey, Bruce, are we gonna do it or what?”
After having Joe nudge me so much, I began to think that maybe I really should attempt a 360. UFC 100 was drawing near. If I was going to do it, it should probably be then. For the first time ever, I actually did do a little rehearsal at home. Pulling off the actual move was a piece of cake. I’m a physical guy and I’ve pulled off far more complex moves practicing martial arts.
No, my real hang-up was the logic of the thing. The 180 had a clear-cut purpose: it helped me to transition from one fighter to the other with the maximum amount of energy and flair. But why on earth would I use a 360? If I’m facing GSP at a fight and do a 360, I’m back to GSP again. How does that propel the action forward? It didn’t make sense. It would only eat up precious time.
But then it dawned on me. The 360 could be like adding an exclamation point to the end of anything I said. But it had to be used sparingly. Otherwise it would lose its meaning.
I had every intention of pulling it off at UFC 100 in July 2009, but I didn’t want to jinx myself by scripting it too much. Joe needled me about it as we went into the weekend, but I stayed mum about my plans, if indeed I had any. I only knew that if it was going to happen, it would come about the way all those 180s had: when the spirit moved me.
At the start of the main event, I introduced Frank Mir, the challenger, in the Blue Corner. Then I stalked across the Octagon to stand before the six-foot-three, 266-pound slab of muscle who was at that time the reigning UFC Heavyweight Champion.
“BROCK!”
Then I leapt in such a way that I was completely off the ground for a microsecond. When I landed, I began to roar “LESNARRRRR” while taking one step forward and punching the card toward Brock’s face. He and I were beautifully in sync in that moment. I made my move just as he threw both his arms into the air. A true Hollywood moment! Later, when I watched the video, I saw that I did not simply do a spinning, grounded 360, but an airborne 360.
That, friends, was the birth of the Buffer 360. It’s a move I did for the first and last time that night. People always ask me when I’m going to do it again, but I really can’t say because, to my mind, it’s gone forever. Joe happens to agree with me, by the way. We still have a good laugh about it from time to time, but we both know that’s the way it should be. People ask me if I’ll trot it out for UFC 200, UFC 300, UFC 400, and beyond. All I know is, I will do something special for those events, but not a 360. As always, I won’t know what it will be until that given night.
Later that week, the biggest laugh I got came when I got an e-mail message from Joe. It read, YOU DID IT!!!! AND YOU DID IT IN FRONT OF THE BIGGEST BADDEST MOFO ON THE PLANET!!!!!
23
TO ALL THE GIRLS I’VE LOVED BEFORE
I love women. I love tender, unpredictable moments, and I love falling head over heels in love. I love the ritual of planning a romantic evening, picking the girl up, taking her out, wowing her, and all that comes after.
I’m not a guy who kisses and tells. But I will tell you that the UFC has enhanced my love life. When you’re on the road all the time, you meet amazing women everywhere you go. Hang out at the after-party some night and you’ll see what I mean. No matter what city we’re in, beautiful women come out of the woodwork, seeking out the fighters.
A lot of fighters enjoy those fringe benefits. I’ve been in clubs with Chuck Liddell in his wild-man days, when it wasn’t unusual to see him partying with a bevy of beauties. How could he be so lucky? Simple! He’s the champion of the world. That’s hugely attractive to female fans. Look at a guy like UFC welterweight champion Georges St-Pierre. Not only is he blessed with handsome looks and a great physique, but he speaks both English and French, to boot. There aren’t many women who can resist the allure of such a combination.
In the old days, you’d see women come to the UFC shows with their boyfriends, and conventional wisdom held that it was a “guy’s sport.” Wrong. Women love athletes. The sport just had to catch on and be more visible. Today we go to the shows and we see multiple women, groups of women coming to have a good time. And after the show, they’re heading out to the parties and looking to meet fighters. They’re so happy to meet the fighters, it’s incredible. And to my astonishment, some of those women are even happy and excited to meet me.
Have I indulged over the years? Sure. Once, when I was doing a radio show with Frank Trigg, they were talking about the groupies on the road, and how you sometimes get cougars on the prowl for young fighters. Trigg joked, “Anything over twenty-one is a cougar to Bruce.”
Okay, that was me. The temptation is always there, but I like to think I’ve wised up as I’ve grown older.
Some of the sexual escapades—or even just sexual innuendo—on the road have gotten crazy over the years. A classic example is the number of times a guy will stop me at an event to introduce me to his wife or girlfriend, and then ask if I can take a picture with her. You know my standard response: Absolutely, yes! I go into my patented Bruce Buffer smile and give them a shot that they will hopefully treasure (or throw darts at) for years to come.
But I have to say, sometimes these encounters get weird.
“Can I get a picture of you kissing my wife?” guys ask.
I decline such requests.
Sometimes guys up the ante: “Want to sleep
with her?”
Uh, no, thanks, pal. I can get my own action.
Strangely, that has happened twice in the UK. I don’t know why.
One female fan started e-mailing me provocative pictures of herself, after I’d recorded a special birthday greeting for a young child in her family. But that e-mail exchange quickly went from titillating to disturbing, and I finally had to break off all communication.
Once, after I’d finished a King of the Cage show, my phone rang at 2:30 a.m. I had an early flight the next morning. Who’s this waking me now? I wondered. It was two young women calling.
“Hi, we’re down in the lobby. Can we come up to your room and meet you?”
Because I’m a red-blooded American man, my first instinct was to say, hey, sure, I’ve got an hour to kill before I have to get ready to catch my flight. Why not have some fun before I blow town?
But I was wiped out from the day before, and, I think, a little older and wiser than the old Bruce. Old Bruce would have said, “Sure, come on up. Room 302.”
New Bruce is savvier, pickier, and more careful. New Bruce thinks about these things in a way that a twenty- or thirty-year-old guy doesn’t:
What if there’s a guy waiting for me outside the door with a baseball bat?
What if I wake up tomorrow and I’m missing a kidney?
What if I do something stupid and I’m looking at a lawsuit when I get back to L.A.?
Nothing goes unseen in an age of technology, when everyone is carrying a cell phone equipped with cameras, video cameras, and voice recorders. Even if you’re lucky enough not to have some embarrassing activity caught on tape, that doesn’t mean the details of your misadventure can’t come out in another way later. I’ve seen many celebrities go through the wringer with this stuff. These celebs have been forced to pay out hundreds of thousands of dollars in settlements to avoid scrutiny and being raked over the coals. Bad publicity can potentially damage careers, so you really have to be careful.