Dissecting Cro Cop’s downfall

Jordan Breen over at Sherdog has written a truly grade-A story to address the downfall of Mirko “Cro Cop” Filipovic, breaking things down in such detail that you really need to read the whole thing if you’re a Cro Cop fan at all. And the piece makes one interesting point that I latched onto only because of my previous post regarding watching Cro Cop highlight clips: Cro Cop’s reputation, especially among casual MMA fans, has been built up and heightened in large part due to the highlight head kicks, something we all hope for and even expect to see every time he steps into the ring or cage, and as a result of these micro-moments of greatness he has become one of the first if not the first Youtube MMA heroes.

I’m excerpting a huge chunk of the story here simply because it’s so damn good, so well-written, and so on-the-button. Much like a Cro Cop head kick circa 2006.

There can be no doubt those physical attributes that made him the posterboy for K-1 converts have diminished. His reflex and strike speed lags, and he struggles to explode away from the clinch as he once was able to when desperate fighters latched onto him. Though some are quick to say that Filipovic is “only 35,” that misses the fact that age — especially in MMA — is extremely relative.

“You’re only as young as you feel” sounds like a hollow line from a dental adhesive or margarine commercial, but it couldn’t be more true in this sport. While Randy Couture is constantly used as MMA’s refutation of aging, “The Natural” started MMA 12 years ago at age 33 after a fairly healthy wrestling career. Cro Cop has been training and fighting for nearly two decades at this point, and it has taken its toll on him. In recent years, he’s had surgeries up and down his body to fix nagging issues from a deviated septum to a busted foot to a faulty elbow to nagging knees. That process isn’t about to stop, and if anything, it will only exacerbate. Prizefighters are like porn stars: When it’s gone, it’s gone. You might have another stellar scene or two, but you’re sure as hell not going to sweep the AVNs.

But it’s wrong to view Cro Cop’s current predicament strictly as a product of wear-and-tear. If anything, his physical depreciation has served to highlight the technical flaws of his game that have always been present and often ignored.

Part of what has been difficult for fans to digest is that he hasn’t just looked awful as of late: He’s looked awful on the feet despite being hailed as the greatest striker in the sport for years. However, chinks in the armor have always been present. Apart from his bouts with Mark Hunt, the southpaw Cro Cop has circled left on orthodox fighters since his K-1 days. Circling into your opponent’s power tends to be a major no-no, but it has always given Cro Cop the best chance to land his left cross and left head kick, by far his two best weapons. When fighters with real striking skills have opted to be aggressive against him, though, he’s suffered as a result.

He walked into Fedor Emelianenko’s right hook repeatedly, and shortly after, barrages of left hooks followed. Hunt’s right found him repeatedly in their MMA rematch. While people remember the Cheick Kongo bout for Cro Cop’s testicles being battered, the Frenchman dominated latter proceedings with his right cross and right kicks to Cro Cop’s exposed body. In one of the most brutal starchings the sport has ever seen, he walked right into Gabriel Gonzaga’s shin at skull-level. And Saturday night, Junior dos Santos pelted him with both hands, but especially rights.

Compound this issue with the fact that he generally struggles going backward. At his finest, Cro Cop was less the tiger he was once nicknamed for and more akin to a shark, circling opponents quickly at short range. Watch the Nogueira bout to see the ideal range and movement for his attack; it is little coincidence that he displayed nearly all of his offensive weapons in that bout’s first round. When forced backward, his primary weapon to halt opponents was his left cross — the same punch that destroyed Bob Sapp and got the wrecking ball rolling on Wanderlei Silva in their second bout. However, from Hoost to Cigano, when opponents are fleet enough to avoid the punch, or stay close enough to stifle it, he’s less a fighter and more a cornerback.

Maybe most critically of all, for all his striking acumen, Cro Cop has never been a quality counterstriker. At his best, whether in K-1 or MMA, he attacked first, hurt his foe, then finished the job. When ambushed, he’s always pushed opponents away and circled out wide to reset. Even against Josh Barnett, whose game plan in their second bout was haphazard punch-swarming to set up the clinch, Cro Cop was still almost entirely defensive. Even his punches on Sapp and Silva were not really pure counters as much as fighters walking directly at him with their hands down.

The point about counterpunching is especially relevant, as it is the method through which the cleanest chances for damaging blows in combat sports are created. It is no coincidence that virtually all of the top fighters in the sport right now are adroit at either slipping punches to counter (Emelianenko, BJ Penn) or parrying punches to counter (Machida, Rampage). At this stage in the sport, it’s not good enough to just endlessly circle left, hoping to set up a roundhouse kick to the dome.

There’s also been a noticeable reduction in his actual striking arsenal. His bouts at this point are reduced to a few sparse punches and failed attempts at the left head kick. However, his brutal salvos of leg kicks and body kicks mostly appeared when his opponents stopped moving, as in the cases of Nogueira or Silva, or when he was facing rigid and awkward opponents like Hidehiko Yoshida and Hong Man Choi. As for his punching combinations, their appearances were almost entirely relegated to when he got opponents stuck in the corners of the ring. The punches that polished off Mark Coleman? The furious barrage on Aleksander Emelianenko? The brutal head-and-body assault that started the destruction of Josh Barnett in their third bout? Every single one of those opponents he’d trapped in the corner of the ring, a point sorely missed as people squabbled about Cro Cop’s adaptation to the cage in terms of how it would affect his ability to stop takedowns.

So, where were all these deficiencies in 2003, when he was putting the boots to hapless foes, and why are they so painfully vivid now?

Obviously, the aging process plays a formative role in exposing these flaws, but it’s actually a quintessential double whammy: Cro Cop’s physical decline also coincided with the general improvement of heavyweight MMA and more consistent fights with top heavyweights. Your baseline heavyweight in an elite promotion in 2009 is a bit less likely to circle face-first into the strike that his opponent is synonymous with. Some are even talented and brazen enough to throw strikes against a former K-1 World Grand Prix runner-up, and aggressively so. Even if they wanted the fight on the floor, as Gonzaga and Overeem did, the ability and willingness to trade strikes in a way that the likes of Herring, Waterman and Coleman couldn’t made those takedowns that much easier.

Perhaps a better question is why so much was expected from the man upon his arrival in the UFC. After all, the reaction to his decline is not simply a tough-but-necessary acknowledgement that his better days are behind him, the way many now view Randy Couture’s performances. Instead, the response is one of sullen dejection and disappointment, not because he’s past his prime but because that fact means he cannot and will not fulfill their lofty expectations for him.

It is hardly a new hypothesis that many of Pride’s fighters attained a staggering aura of invincibility due to the crafty and lopsided pro-wrestling-style matchmaking of parent company Dream Stage Entertainment, but it is still an important one. It is fairly telling that one of the most famous moments of his MMA career is decapitating masked Mexican luchador Dos Caras Jr. For that matter, it is perhaps even more telling that his signature K-1 moment is destroying Bob Sapp. Perhaps no fighter in MMA’s short history has been better suited to the Youtube generation and the highlight reel, and that’s largely due to the brutality he was able to dish out against sacrificial lambs.

The potency of his knockouts coupled with his aesthetic and authentic gimmick — the Croatian anti-terrorist force member with enough sangfroid to spare — made him MMA’s first larger-than-life fighter. That, along with the fact his exploits came within the ring of Pride, in a heavyweight division that was markedly deeper and more talented than the UFC’s (which featured the likes of Mike Kyle and Wesley “Cabbage” Correira), solidified the idea that he could be UFC champion simply upon showing up in the Octagon.

This is not to say the man’s resume is without merit. However, the question is how that merit was distorted as people convinced themselves he would rule the UFC with an iron fist. Victories over Heath Herring and Igor Vovchanchyn were strong wins six years ago. Now, though, we know Herring to be a dependable if flawed gatekeeper-to-the-stars, and Vovchanchyn was marginalized as an elite fighter the moment his contemporaries developed half decent boxing and top games. Aleksander Emelianenko has gone on to be a strong heavyweight, but at the time Cro Cop dispatched him, he was an out-of-shape novice with a special surname.

The best wins of Cro Cop’s career are over Wanderlei Silva — a longtime light heavyweight now bound for 185 pounds — and his trifecta over Josh Barnett, the only perennially top heavyweight he’s defeated in his eight-year career, though I imagine that trio of W’s doesn’t look too damn good right now given Barnett’s recent indiscretions. Beyond these fights, when you think of Cro Cop against elite fighters, you think of him losing. And in some cases, to non-elite fighters as well.

At the time, each of those losses could be justified in some absolving fashion. He lost to Nogueira, the second best heavyweight of all time, due to his inexperience on the ground. Against Kevin Randleman, he simply “got caught.” Against Fedor Emelianenko, he simply bumped up against the best heavyweight we’ve seen yet. Against Mark Hunt, he was burned out and unmotivated after his fourth fight in six months. All of these explanations were reinforced by the fact that somehow, losing in Pride was not at all indicative of the success one might have stateside against the likes of Andrei Arlovski and Tim Sylvia. Interestingly enough, during his Pride tenure, Cro Cop was part of the “Big Three” along with Emelianenko and Nogueira, but historically, he actually fits in much closer with his hypothetical victims Arlovski and Sylvia, two other quite successful but often faltering heavyweights.

His victory in the Pride Openweight Grand Prix three years ago, in which he notched the two best wins of his career in a single night, came specifically at a point where the hackneyed UFC-versus-Pride suddenly wasn’t such a landslide any more. Pride was crumbling under the Shukan Gendai scandal surrounding the promotion’s underworld ties, and “The Ultimate Fighter” generation brought the UFC prosperity, and as a result, some of the sport’s best fighters. Those who parroted the superiority of Pride for years, as well as the neutral parties who wanted a UFC heavyweight division where Justin Eilers didn’t fight for a heavyweight title, placed unfortunately high expectations on a fighter who they desperately wanted to believe was a superhero instead of an aging, fallible heavyweight standout.

I fear this piece coming across as an attempt to impeach the career of Mirko Filipovic on all fronts. Let me assure you, that is not my intent. If anything, I see crucial value in pointing out his technical and competitive shortcomings to actually bolster his standing in public memory. While I would find it unnerving for history to depict Cro Cop as an absolute all-time great with an iron-clad resume, I would be equally dismayed for him to be remembered as a bittersweet failure because he couldn’t vindicate vehement Pride fans.

He will be the owner of a scintillating highlight for the rest of time, but his actual resume won’t position him as the dominant heavyweight it was assumed he would always be, in the ring or the cage. He should be remembered just as much for his impressive victories as for his failures when it counted the most – to Hoost, Hug and Bernardo, to Fedor, Nogueira and Gonzaga. However, he should not be scorned for failing to live up to the unrealistic expectations of those whose hearts skipped a beat whenever Simon LeBon’s voice filled a Japanese arena.