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A filing cabinet located in a spare bedroom at my mom’s house holds a collection of mixed martial arts magazines, periodicals, trinkets and event programs that I have held onto since the late 1990s.
I discovered the UFC in a real way in 1996 and spent more than a few Blockbuster Nights renting UFC events to see what I missed. I enjoyed watching some fighters, but I liked the fights more.
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When I was exposed to Battlecade Extreme Fighting, those cards clued me in that there was plenty worth watching outside the octagon.
It wasn’t until UFC 18 that I started to religiously follow the sport.
That I owe in no small part to meeting Bas Rutten in 1998.
The Dutchman was preparing for his U.S. debut that coming January against Tsuyoshi Kohsaka, and he began teaching select classes at the place I practiced self-defense and trained.
At that point, my interest in what became known as mixed martial arts had mushroomed, and as part of my infatuation, I spent many hours at the Krav Maga National Training Center in Los Angeles.
So from 1997 to 2000, I found myself interacting and learning from top pros like Rutten and Oleg Taktarov when I wasn’t training in Krav Maga and Brazilian jiu-jitsu.
Imagine finding something you love and gaining access to people like that at the beginning of your experience. This was crucial, I feel, for sticking around that world for the past 20 years.
When Oleg told me I threw a clean punch, the impact of that felt real. This was “The Russian Bear,” the guy who beat Tank Abbott after 17 minutes in Casper, Wyo. He taught hard things in simple ways and was always understated about it.
That wasn’t Bas.
When he walked in a room, you knew it. He was always loud, an extrovert.
Bas, like Oleg, wanted to act. He knew that if he was ever going to parlay an exciting and successful fighting career into something on-screen, it would require success in the UFC.
There was no shortage of hype around Rutten. He was undefeated in his previous 19 fights and had been touted as the world’s best fighter while transitioning from Pancrase to the UFC.
I was intent on figuring out how true that was, and attempted to watch Rutten’s past fights, which meant finding Pancrase on VHS. That right there opened me up to a whole new world of fighting, and a local Japanese video store replaced Blockbuster as my place to rent tapes.
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From Pancrase to Shooto to the earliest Pride Fighting Championships events, my knowledge of the different dimensions of mixed fighting grew very quickly.
Rutten was 33 when he beat “TK” at UFC 18 — the first pay-per-view I purchased live. He poured it on late to stop the Japanese RINGS fighter, leading to Mike Goldberg’s classic call, “Rutten’s taking over! Rutten’s taking over! It’s over!”
Bas Rutten vs Tsuyoshi Kosaka at UFC 18 on January 8, 1999 at Pontchartrain Center in New Orleans, Louisiana #DWCOTD pic.twitter.com/tCmMBLSuQO
— danawhite (@danawhite) November 26, 2015
Bas captured the heavyweight title later in the year by taking a controversial split decision over Kevin Randleman at UFC 20. Rutten survived a beating early, recovered and neutralized “The Monster.”
Those two nights I had a real reason to root for a fighter, and I did.
Between his bouts that year, Rutten exhibited signs of playing up his commercial appeal. He used his name to promote the Bas Rutten Invitational five times in ’99. Bas wouldn’t fight again for another seven years, but it seemed like he was everywhere. There were workouts and workout equipment. Fighters to train. Commentary gigs. Studio show gigs. And soon enough acting gigs, big ones.
Bas turned out to be a hard guy not to like, even if he marketed the hell out of himself.
As best I can tell, Bas has never changed from the driven, good-spirited hustler he’s always been.
When I moved on from watching as a fan to covering MMA as a reporter, I was able to get to know Bas as an interview subject and, soon enough, a colleague in the media, too. Years later, Bas agreed to write the foreword to my book, “Ali vs. Inoki.” He was always gracious and willing to help when I asked.
When I first covered Pride events in December 2000, Bas was a comforting figure. You’d see him at the fighter hotel, and his energy dominated. Breakfasts at the Tokyo Hilton shouldn’t be something a person remembers so vividly, but for some reason more than 15 years later, they stand the test of time.
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There are people in this sport about whom stories are prolific and often legendary.
Bas is one.
“El Guapo.”
The Handsome.
Sitting here now, I can think of several tales that probably deserve 2,000 words or more.
- Traveling from Japan to the U.S. after 9/11: Pride 24 took place on Sept. 24, 2001, less than two weeks after the terrorist attacks, and even Bas was a bit jumpy to be flying so soon. When we boarded, Bas thought that it might be smart if he sat near the co*ckpit, and the flight attendants agreed. A few of us moved to the upper area of the 747 and spent the flight chatting away.
- Bas gets hit by a car: This may be my most vivid memory I have of Bas, even though I was also drunk at the time. After Pride events, some of the English-speaking group that attended the cards liked to visit the Tokyo neighborhood of Roppongi to down a few drinks at a bar called Wall Street. This particular night after the culmination of the 2003 middleweight grand prix — for my money one of the great events in MMA history — we stayed out extra late. When it was time to leave, I trailed Bas up the stairs to street level (Wall Street was subterranean) and followed him as he tried to hail a cab. That is when I thought Bas died. A mini-van plowed into him, and he flew a good 30 feet. I ran over to Bas, who took a knee for a moment before standing. There was a pretty nasty friction burn on his hip, a small nick on the top of his shaved-bald head, but he looked at me and declared, “No internal injuries.” Kapow. The following morning, he was entertaining onlookers at the buffet, and I had the worst hangover of my life.
- Flying to Holland: I love this story because one of my closest friends witnessed it. I was covering the 2 Hot 2 Handle 2 card in Rotterdam, and he wanted to tag along with his girlfriend at the time. They would stay in Amsterdam, and we’d catch up when we could. I told him that Bas Rutten was on our flight, and that meant it would probably be fun. This was an understatement. Right after takeoff, Bas had eight Heinekens in his lap. Every time the flight attendant walked by, he asked for two more. Halfway through the flight, they threatened to cut him off. When they did, he kept asking me to get him two. I did, several times, and expressed my appreciation to the flight crew along the way. We estimated he drank around 22 cans before passing out.
This week as I thought about what I wanted to write about Bas, I opened the filing cabinet and dug around a bit.
There were several items that tied back to him, and an event program for the 2003 Pride tournament stood out most to me.
The finale of that event took place at Tokyo Dome in front of 65,000 people, including myself and Bas, who called the action from ringside.
The program was built extra large for the occasion. On the cover, a hand modeled off of Rutten’s is surrounded by a flat gold background. The black palm features an elongated index finger that points upward, to the sky perhaps, clearly signifying No. 1.
I see that and I see Bas.
(Top photo: John Shearer / WireImage)
