The Road Back - Rich Franklin
Dealing With One Loss
Joe Hall Oct 20, 2004
In West Chester, a suburb of Cincinnati, a photo of Rich Franklin sits next to a
bathroom mirror. He’s looking up and away in the picture, with the
wondering stare of someone who is either confused by something off
in the distance or stuck in a state of drunken contemplation. Upon
closer inspection, his face is bruised.
This is Rich Franklin after losing to Ryoto Machida, the first and only defeat of his career. This is his photo, next to his bathroom mirror, in his house in West Chester.
Teammate, friend and Jiu-Jitsu coach Jorge Gurgel was the photographer.
He snapped the picture while a doctor checked on Franklin shortly
after Machida had stopped him with a series of heavy punches on New
Year’s Eve last year in Japan. The words under the photo declare,
“This is what happens when you lose. Look at it everyday.”
The loss came at the worst of times, right when Franklin was clearing a path to stardom in the UFC. He was 2-0 in the Octagon, and rumors of a showdown with Vitor Belfort were spreading. His hope was to secure a future on MMA alone, and he had quit his job as a schoolteacher to concentrate solely on fighting.
White didn’t want Franklin to take the fight at Inoki Bom-Ba-Ye, Cox says, but he understood that he needed the money. The Cincinnati native was a substantial favorite, but he came out flat and his opponent proved better than most thought. Implications of the loss were immediate, beginning with accusations that he had been greedy by going to Japan.
“Japan was something I just couldn’t pass up as far as paying my bills,” says the 30-year-old fighter. “Saying I was greedy kind of upset me because that’s not the kind of person I am at all.”
It got much worse.
“When Rich lost in Japan, Zuffa was not very happy,” says Cox. “Dana made it no secret that he thought Rich had the talent and the persona to be big. When he lost, it really bothered (Dana).”
The Japanese promotions weren’t interested in Franklin either. One loss, and he was instantly damaged goods. “I really began to wonder if I was going to get back in the UFC, or anything for that matter, if any of the big shows were going to call me back in,” says Franklin.
His wife was helping support them, but he began considering a return to teaching full time. “We had bills and everything, and the money has long since been exhausted,” he says. “At some point you just get to where you really have to start questioning if this is a responsible thing to do financially. Because the longer I fight, if I’m not making good money and I can’t put back for retirement, that’s the longer I’m going to have to work in some other career when I’m older. I’m not trying to put myself in a position where I have to work until I’m 75 because I decided to fight for 10 years now.”
Franklin’s case perfectly illustrates the win-or-die nature that pervades mixed martial arts in North America. Lose once and your career is tarnished. Lose twice in a year and you’re on the brink of disappearing. There’s a different dynamic in Japan, however, where fighters like Gary Goodridge are consistently brought back for their entertainment value regardless of their record. The differing Japanese outlook didn’t help Franklin, though.
He returned to smaller shows stateside, and the harsh realities of minor league MMA quickly reminded him you don’t get paid when a show is cancelled, even if you’ve trained a month for it. By June, half the year had passed and Franklin had only fought once. Just when his future seemed its most dismal, however, he began talking with Cox about a potential drop to the middleweight class. It made perfect sense: Couture, Liddell, Ortiz and Belfort were jammed at the top of the light heavyweight division, but the 185-pound class was wide-open. Cox mentioned the idea to Zuffa, and their interest in Franklin was suddenly rekindled.
Franklin won another fight in July, then made a couple trial runs down to 185. The call came from Zuffa not long after, and a three-fight contract was negotiated to bring him into the UFC’s middleweight division. Hence, it’s taken 10 low-income months since the loss in Japan to recover what years of training had gotten him, 10 contemplative months to get back to where he was before the defeat. A real future in fighting is now within reach, but the picture beside the mirror reminds him daily that such a future has escaped him before.
This is Rich Franklin after losing to Ryoto Machida, the first and only defeat of his career. This is his photo, next to his bathroom mirror, in his house in West Chester.
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The loss came at the worst of times, right when Franklin was clearing a path to stardom in the UFC. He was 2-0 in the Octagon, and rumors of a showdown with Vitor Belfort were spreading. His hope was to secure a future on MMA alone, and he had quit his job as a schoolteacher to concentrate solely on fighting.
By the end of 2003, however, his winnings were exhausted and when a
fight in the January UFC fell through, he was forced to look
elsewhere for income. Even though Franklin wasn’t under contract
with the UFC (both of his fights had been one-bout deals), his
manager Monte Cox contacted UFC president Dana White to inform him
of Franklin’s situation and a lucrative offer he had received to
fight on New Year’s in Japan.
White didn’t want Franklin to take the fight at Inoki Bom-Ba-Ye, Cox says, but he understood that he needed the money. The Cincinnati native was a substantial favorite, but he came out flat and his opponent proved better than most thought. Implications of the loss were immediate, beginning with accusations that he had been greedy by going to Japan.
“Japan was something I just couldn’t pass up as far as paying my bills,” says the 30-year-old fighter. “Saying I was greedy kind of upset me because that’s not the kind of person I am at all.”
It got much worse.
“When Rich lost in Japan, Zuffa was not very happy,” says Cox. “Dana made it no secret that he thought Rich had the talent and the persona to be big. When he lost, it really bothered (Dana).”
The Japanese promotions weren’t interested in Franklin either. One loss, and he was instantly damaged goods. “I really began to wonder if I was going to get back in the UFC, or anything for that matter, if any of the big shows were going to call me back in,” says Franklin.
His wife was helping support them, but he began considering a return to teaching full time. “We had bills and everything, and the money has long since been exhausted,” he says. “At some point you just get to where you really have to start questioning if this is a responsible thing to do financially. Because the longer I fight, if I’m not making good money and I can’t put back for retirement, that’s the longer I’m going to have to work in some other career when I’m older. I’m not trying to put myself in a position where I have to work until I’m 75 because I decided to fight for 10 years now.”
Franklin’s case perfectly illustrates the win-or-die nature that pervades mixed martial arts in North America. Lose once and your career is tarnished. Lose twice in a year and you’re on the brink of disappearing. There’s a different dynamic in Japan, however, where fighters like Gary Goodridge are consistently brought back for their entertainment value regardless of their record. The differing Japanese outlook didn’t help Franklin, though.
He returned to smaller shows stateside, and the harsh realities of minor league MMA quickly reminded him you don’t get paid when a show is cancelled, even if you’ve trained a month for it. By June, half the year had passed and Franklin had only fought once. Just when his future seemed its most dismal, however, he began talking with Cox about a potential drop to the middleweight class. It made perfect sense: Couture, Liddell, Ortiz and Belfort were jammed at the top of the light heavyweight division, but the 185-pound class was wide-open. Cox mentioned the idea to Zuffa, and their interest in Franklin was suddenly rekindled.
Franklin won another fight in July, then made a couple trial runs down to 185. The call came from Zuffa not long after, and a three-fight contract was negotiated to bring him into the UFC’s middleweight division. Hence, it’s taken 10 low-income months since the loss in Japan to recover what years of training had gotten him, 10 contemplative months to get back to where he was before the defeat. A real future in fighting is now within reach, but the picture beside the mirror reminds him daily that such a future has escaped him before.
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