Just ten weeks would separate the Brandão and Poirier fights – a pretty quick turnaround – but that didn’t seem like a big deal for us. My guys like to remain in fight-shape all the time, which allows them to stay more active than most. We sometimes use Ricky Hatton, the former world champion boxer, as an example of what not to do in that respect. He used to put on an enormous amount of weight between fights by completely abandoning his diet and training, but if you stay fit you can then be ready to seize any opportunity that might arise. This one made perfect sense.
Fighting in Las Vegas for the first time really felt like a big deal. Nothing will ever top the show in Dublin, but Vegas is where you want to be competing when you’re involved in combat sports at the highest level. When I was a kid, staying up late to watch Mike Tyson fighting in the early hours of a Sunday morning, Vegas was where it happened. This felt like it was the beginning of Conor’s run at the big time in America. And when the event’s headliner, UFC light-heavyweight champion Jon Jones, was forced to withdraw from his title defence against Daniel Cormier due to an injury, Conor became an even bigger attraction on the bill.
After earning $32,000 (plus a $50,000 ‘Performance of the Night’ bonus) for beating Diego Brandão, Conor was taking a significant leap forward in the financial stakes for his Vegas debut. Before any of the several sponsorship endorsements he could now boast were even taken into account, Conor was on a guaranteed $75,000 from the UFC per fight, as well as an additional $75,000 to win. That made him the second-highest-paid fighter at the event, behind only UFC flyweight champion Demetrious Johnson, whose flyweight title bout against Chris Cariaso would now headline the card. There were a lot of other top fighters on the UFC 178 card – Donald Cerrone, Tim Kennedy, Dominick Cruz – who had been around for a lot longer than Conor, but who weren’t earning that much. Some of them might not have been too pleased, but Conor’s earnings were an indication of the scale of the impact he’d had on the UFC as a company in such a short period. The days of queueing for his unemployment benefit at the post office in Lucan were a distant memory.
As UFC CEO Lorenzo Fertitta said at the time:
At the end of the day, it’s a business. [The] guy can literally drive numbers from an entire country. When Conor fights, the entire country of Ireland shuts down. He moves the needle on pay-per-view. He headlined his first event in Ireland, did a $1.4 million gate. Of course we’re going to reward guys that are successful in the octagon and have a lot of wins and things like that, but when a guy is bringing the kind of excitement that Conor is bringing, then you’re going to have the ability to potentially drive a little bit harder of a negotiating bargain because you do bring that to the UFC.
In order to get acclimatized, we decided to leave for Las Vegas about four weeks out from the fight. Conor was due to meet Artem Lobov and me for our flight, but after we arrived at the airport he called and said he was struggling with a cold and didn’t feel like flying.
‘I’ll be fine,’ Conor said. ‘I’ll just give myself a few days to get better. You go ahead and I’ll follow you out later in the week.’
I wasn’t sure about flying out without Conor, but if he was feeling unwell then he wasn’t going to be training anyway, so we decided to proceed and wait for Conor to recover while we soaked up some Nevada sunshine. And I’m glad we did, because Artem and I enjoyed that few days. A lot.
My only previous trip to Vegas was the few days we had spent there while Conor was sorting out his visa for the fight in Boston a year or so earlier, but we didn’t get the chance to do much and the hotel we stayed in was a bit of a dump. This time, we were met at the airport and taken to the Red Rock Resort. It’s a very plush hotel on the outskirts of the city, about a half-hour’s drive from the main strip. It is owned by the Fertitta brothers, Frank and Lorenzo, who also own the UFC. We had no idea where the UFC were putting us up when we landed, so we were quite excited when we ended up at the Red Rock. When we were shown to our room, it blew our minds. The place was incredible, with a cool balcony and a massive refrigerator that was stocked full of snacks and drinks.
‘Conor’s going to be disgusted when he sees what he’s missing out on,’ Artem said.
‘There must be some mistake,’ I responded. ‘Surely there’s no way they’re putting us up in a place like this for the next month. Maybe we’re just here for the first night as a bit of a treat and they’ll turf us out into the most basic room tomorrow night. This is a bit too good to be true.’
We figured that we might as well make the most of the hospitality while we could. For the first couple of days, whenever we had any drinks from the room we replaced them with drinks we bought at the supermarket, because we assumed that would be much cheaper. We didn’t want to be charged an arm and a leg for a tiny can of beer. We took a cab downtown, but it was a $100 round trip so we decided to just stay in the hotel from then on as that was a bit too expensive. That was until Artem got talking to a Russian girl who worked on reception.
‘Are you guys going out downtown tonight?’ she asked.
‘Nah,’ said Artem. ‘It costs too much to get there and back.’
‘Well, why don’t you just get Dave to take you?’
‘Who’s Dave?’
‘Your driver.’
‘We have a driver?’
‘Yes, he’s on call for you 24/7. He’ll take you anywhere you want to go.’
‘Free of charge?’ I chimed in.
‘Of course. Everything is complimentary for you guys,’ she replied.
‘Even the food and drinks?’
‘Everything.’
She also told us that the room we were in cost $1,500 per night. Artem and I just looked at each other and tried not to giggle. We spent a lot of the time over the next few days being driven around by Dave in a limousine. Most of the time we didn’t even need to go anywhere. We were just like two kids who were getting a kick out of being chauffeured around Las Vegas in a limo. We also didn’t hold back on the food and drinks, building up an enormous bill. We’d empty the fridge but the hotel would have it stocked up again almost immediately. It was pretty juvenile, but what else do you expect from two guys with a lot of free time on their hands in Las Vegas?
When Conor finally arrived, feeling fresh and healthy again, we playfully taunted him about missing out on all the fun.
‘Sorry, Conor,’ I said. ‘We’ve already taken the good room. You’ll have to settle for a standard single room, I’m afraid.’
As it turned out, our room was nothing in comparison to what had been set aside for Conor. He was upstairs, one floor from the top, in a $7,500-a-night suite with two butlers. The only superior suite to that one was on the very top floor, and Alicia Keys was staying in that. Being afforded such luxury by the UFC was an indication of how highly they were beginning to value Conor. It was something he’d quickly get used to.
Artem and I had a good time for a few days, but we got down to business once Conor arrived. Thankfully he was showing no effects from his illness, so he was able to put in a really strong last few weeks of work. Lorenzo Fertitta has a private gym in the basement, which is a very cool facility, so that’s where we worked out. Conor looked in great shape during the final stages of the training camp, which merely added to my confidence that an emphatic victory was on the cards.
As the fight approached, it seemed clear that while there were a lot of big bouts on the UFC 178 bill, none was generating anywhere near the same kind of hype as McGregor versus Poirier. According to the UFC, 11 per cent of the 10,500 tickets for the event had been purchased from Ireland, but in the days beforehand, the Irish presence in town suggested that was a conservative tally. Vegas was mobbed by Irish fans. It was hard to believe that so many had travelled so far for the fight. The support and goodwill were unbelievable. We couldn’t go anywhere without being stopped and wished well. It wasn’t just Irish people either. Americans too, people from all over the world, were behind Conor – passionately so. Conor doesn’t seem to h
ave any casual fans. The people who support him do so almost religiously. We had seen already how things were taking off in Dublin, but this was when we realized Conor McGregor was truly a global phenomenon.
A couple of days before the fight, we moved from the Red Rock to the hotel at the MGM Grand in order to be closer to the arena. On the day before the fight, the morning before the weigh-ins, while Conor was going through the final stages of his weight-cut, I had to dash downstairs from our room to the lobby to ask for more towels. While I was making my way across the casino floor, I heard my name being called.
‘Hey, John! Coach!’
I turned and saw a group of Irish lads waving at me from one of the bars. I assumed they just wanted to wish us luck so I waved back and said, ‘Thanks, guys.’
But they were gesturing for me to come closer. ‘Get over here, coach!’
‘For what?’ I asked, as I was in a bit of a hurry.
‘To drink some shots with us.’
‘Guys,’ I replied. ‘It’s eight o’clock in the morning.’
‘So?’
I guess that’s Vegas for you.
Conor’s ability to get inside his opponent’s head long before the fight takes place is often spoken about. We had seen evidence of that for the Diego Brandão fight, and there was plenty more with Dustin Poirier. Even prior to the fight being announced, Poirier had been calling Conor out for quite some time via the media. Clearly envious of the amount of attention – and financial rewards – he was receiving, despite being new on the scene, a lot of guys didn’t like Conor. Poirier in particular seemed to have a bee in his bonnet. He claimed that he would win the fight easily, while Conor was predicting a first-round knockout: ‘Dustin thinks it’s all talk, but when he wakes up with his nose plastered across the other side of his face, he’s going to know it’s not all talk.’
They traded insults at press conferences, and the build-up allowed Conor to put his personality on display to his biggest audience yet. In America they call it ‘trash talk’, but for Conor, he’s just telling his opponents what he really believes. Some people reckon it’s disrespectful, and while he has overstepped the mark on a couple of occasions and ended up apologizing for things he has said, that aspect of his character is something I would never try to moderate or influence. In fact, I enjoy watching his verbal exchanges with opponents. It’s part of the fight game and it has always been a big part of Conor’s arsenal. It’s all good fun for him, and it’s a Dublin thing: I think you can trace it back to Crumlin, where there is real wit and edge to the way young lads talk. If you can’t give and take a bit of ribbing, you’re going to be in for a tough time.
If we can agree that one purpose of prize-fighting is to make as much money as possible from your career, then what Conor is doing – being entertaining outside the octagon as well as in – makes sense. It sells tickets, it sells pay-per-view, it raises the profile of MMA. As Muhammad Ali used to say, half the people wanted to watch him kick ass, the other half wanted to watch him get his ass kicked. It’s the same for Conor. We’re talking here about a sport where the athletes are risking serious injury and careers are short. Conor understands this, and he makes no bones about wanting to make as much money as he can, while he can.
My own involvement in martial arts stemmed from my passion for the sport, not a desire to make money, but I recognize the importance of being rewarded for the risks you take. At professional level, athletes compete – first and foremost – to earn a living. There are significant dangers involved in MMA. If your fighting career lasts several years, you’re putting your body – and particularly your head – on the line. When someone tells me that they want to fight professionally, I’m careful to ensure they appreciate the gravity of the decision they’re about to make. People can take up MMA training to improve their lifestyle and health, but it’s another thing entirely if they’re opting to compete. They have to understand the dangers involved, especially when it comes to the risk of brain injury – one of the reasons we discourage heavy sparring. In my own fighting days, I probably didn’t fully understand the risks. I want to make sure that every fighter at SBG knows exactly what’s involved before they decide to step into the cage. If and when they do, I’ll do everything I can to make sure they get the most from their career. In an ideal world, they’ll earn enough money to set them up for life. That won’t always be the case, but it’s most certainly the aim. Of course, only a select few are going to earn as much as Conor McGregor. But as long as the fighters are making the kind of money that allows them to create a comfortable living for themselves and their families, that’s all you can ask.
If ever I feel that someone is sustaining too much damage in pursuit of success I’ll intervene and communicate my thoughts, and they’ll usually call it a day. I’ve done it before and I know I’ll have to do it again. As a coach, that’s my responsibility.
The weigh-ins before UFC 178 were similar to the Brandão fight, with Conor being restrained while he did his best to antagonize Poirier, who was clearly already on edge. As we waited behind the door, I thought I could hear loud chants of ‘Olé, Olé, Olé’. When we entered, I saw that the room at the MGM Grand was packed with Irish fans, who erupted when Conor emerged.
I turned to Dana White and said: ‘Are we in Las Vegas or Dublin here?’
‘It’s unbelievable,’ he said. ‘I’ve never seen anything like this before.’
Poirier lost it after he weighed in. He began shouting and aggressively pointing at the crowd as they jeered him. He just seemed to be full of negative energy. Ten weeks on from the Brandão fight, there was definitely a sense of déjà vu. I guess it was pretty surprising to see these experienced UFC fighters being so wound up psychologically by this cheeky young lad from Dublin who was still very much a newcomer on this stage. Conor seemed to have the entire roster in a bit of a tizzy. You assume that these experienced fighters have seen it all before, but I suppose there had never been anyone like Conor. Watching how the likes of Brandão and Poirier handled it – or failed to handle it – I realized that most of the guys in this game were novices in that particular area. When Conor came in and raised the tide, most of them drowned.
Walking out for a fight at the MGM Grand was a surreal experience. I had watched so many fights there over the years and now I was about to be a part of one. What made it even more surreal was the number of Irish fans in the arena. Yet again, Conor was going to have the majority of the support despite fighting an American guy in the US.
Conor continued to taunt Poirier as the referee, Herb Dean, brought the fighters together beforehand to give them their final instructions. Once the contest began, he charged straight out and threw a big hook-kick which narrowly missed Poirier’s head. You could see the look on Poirier’s face change immediately and he barely took another step forward for the remainder of the fight.
Conor controlled the dynamic of the fight and chipped away with punches that were visibly rocking Poirier, who wasn’t able to counter with much more than a couple of harmless leg-kicks. Conor hurt Poirier with a big left about ninety seconds in, which left him unsteady on his feet. Seconds later, Conor connected again – this time at the back of Poirier’s right ear – and the American went down. After a couple of extra shots to seal the deal, Herb Dean stepped in to confirm Conor’s fourth win in the UFC. Officially, it took him one minute and forty-six seconds. A first-round knockout, just as he had promised.
‘I don’t just knock them out, I pick the round,’ Conor said in his post-fight interview in the octagon. ‘You can call me “Mystic Mac” because I predict these things. These featherweights don’t understand, it’s a whole other ball-game when they get hit by me. I wanted to come over here to America and show the American public the new era of “The Fighting Irish” and I brought my whole country with me. If one of us goes to war, we all go to war.’
The UFC had known for a long time that they were on to something special with Conor, but each fight just raised the hype to the ne
xt level. He had now done it under the bright lights of Las Vegas against one of the leading contenders in the division. Just twelve months on from undergoing surgery on an injury that could easily have kept him out of the octagon for a couple of years, Conor had worked himself into a position where the very top was now within touching distance.
‘Wow! That’s the real deal, ladies and gentlemen. Make no mistake about it, Conor McGregor is for real,’ said Joe Rogan afterwards. ‘He really did just make it look easy. That’s the real deal. That was just glorious. No one has ever done that to Poirier before.’
After the event, Conor entertained the watching world at the post-event press conference in a brand-new ivory suit. He was awarded a $50,000 ‘Performance of the Night’ bonus, which took his payout for the fight to $200,000. Designer suits had become a staple of his newly acquired wealth and I pinched one of them for the celebrations that night.
14
With women’s MMA growing thanks to the likes of Ronda Rousey, the UFC decided to create a second weight division for women. It would be launched through a season of The Ultimate Fighter in 2014, with the winner becoming the inaugural UFC strawweight champion. When Aisling Daly was offered a contract to compete, it was the perfect opportunity for her to achieve what she had always aspired to.
Win or Learn: MMA, Conor McGregor and Me: A Trainer's Journey Page 15