Excerpts
Chapter one: A Profile of The Law
Matt Lindland could never be accused of being a “pretty boy.” You’ll never see him flashing ripped abs in a Calvin Klein ad or parading around in the newest line of clothing with hot chicks hanging off him. Even if he had a perfect head of thick hair, he wouldn’t be caught dead flipping it over his shoulder to plug the latest gel or shampoo like Johnny Damon or Mike Piazza. Matt is also a rather boring guy. He isn’t flashy, cocky, or a man of many words. He rarely trash-talks an opponent and is the last guy to brag about his accomplishments. He’s a meat-and-potato eater who prefers an untucked button-down shirt and a pair of boots to a custom leather jacket and slacks.

But Matt makes up for all that in brass cajones, a razor-sharp focus on his goals, and a steadfast plan for achieving them. He recognizes that a passion for the sport of MMA isn’t enough to be successful. A good business sense and financial acumen are just as critical, not only for fighters, but for managers as well.

We met in his office, which doubled as a storage room for sweatshirts and other fight gear. The walls were void of any memorabilia to look at despite a lifetime of wrestling and MMA achievements. Only one poster-sized pencil drawing was worthy of a look, barely visible in the bad lighting of the closet-sized office where million-dollar deals were made.

“What’s this?” I asked.

He didn’t even look at what transfixed me. “That’s me at the ninety-eight World Wrestling Championships,” he said.

“Did you win?”

“I got fourth actually.”

“Disappointing?”

“Yeah. To me you have to expect to win. That’s what we teach everyone here. You just have to go out there and fully know in your heart and soul that you’re going to be victorious.” He sat in a rickety metal chair while I sat on the floor and leaned up against a file cabinet. “If you enter a fight, a soccer game, or a game of cards without expecting to win, you’re bound to lose.”

Matt Lindland’s standard is to win, period. He expects it. But the desire to win in itself only goes so far when it comes to getting paid. The underlying motivation for Lindland striding into a ring and entering in unarmed combat with another man is money. But not to build wealth, gain fame, or buy toys. Like I said, he’s as plain as vanilla yogurt. He isn’t like Chuck Liddell, with a mansion, a Ferrari, and a Hummer. Lindland would rather spend his money on his ranch to keep his family safe and solvent for years to come.

“My motivations have never changed,” he said. “I want to make sure my family is taken care of, my kids can go to college, my wife has a place to live comfortably. Those are the reasons I’m in this business.“

But how would history treat the great Matt Lindland? Despite over twenty MMA victories over high-profile opponents and being ranked as the world’s number one middleweight, Matt never won a championship belt.

“Why should I?” he asked, shrugging his shoulders. “What’s so special about winning a belt?”

“Well,” I replied, “as much as you may not like it, the world won’t remember you as fondly without one. We’re a materialistic society, after all.”

“If it got me a bigger paycheck, then yeah, I would pursue it.” He rubbed his bald head. “But a belt doesn’t put food on the table. It doesn’t keep my family sheltered against the Oregon weather. It doesn’t get you to heaven, and it isn’t a value. So why should I focus my life on winning one?”

“It signifies the top dog of the heap,” I said. “Your friend Dan Henderson, for example, has two belts and is all over the covers of magazines right now.”

“Fighting the best guys is more important to me. I pursued Rich Franklin for years when he was the UFC middleweight champion. I’ve made it clear that I want a shot at Anderson Silva (the current middleweight champion). I took the fight with Fedor [Emelianenko] despite being two weight classes lighter because he’s the best in the world. I’d rather be the guy who puts himself in the line of fire against the best fighters in the world than the guy who wins a belt and sits on it year after year.”

This point was indisputable. As much as Matt shuns championship belts as shallow and materialistic, he could not be accused of avoiding anyone. In fact, he’d gone out of his way to fight bigger and better fighters. In 2006 he fought a heavier and more dangerous Quinton “Rampage” Jackson in the upstart promotion, the World Fighting Alliance. In a very close match, he took Jackson the distance and lost a decision that could have gone either way, but he gained a ton of respect in the process. And in a sport where toughness is common, respect is the only true way to separate the great from the mediocre.

During my stay at Team Quest, Lindland was three weeks away from his biggest challenge ever. He was set to fly to Russia, at a thirty-pound weight disadvantage, to fight the man most experts considered the best fighter on the planet, Fedor Emelianenko. It was a fight he didn’t have to take, but he sought it out because of the type of person he was—a perfectionist.

He was also convinced that he was the best fighter in the world at any weight class, but his modest attitude kept him from proclaiming it, unlike many who feel the need to channel Muhammad Ali.

But there was one thing that had to be a sore subject. “How did you feel when Nate Quarry, one of your own fighters, was offered a title shot at Rich Franklin in 2006 and you weren’t?” I asked.

“That was after the UFC got rid of me, but it still pissed me off because of the way it was handled. It was bad business.”

“Bad business?”

“Yeah.” He narrowed his eyes, his face changing as if I’d touched a nerve. “They [the UFC] went straight to Nate instead of coming through me, as his manager. They thought they could make him an offer and promise a bunch of money on the back end, like I wouldn’t find out. It’s bad business. This sport isn’t big enough to get away with something like that. I mean, we all talk to each other, especially in the same camp, so what did the UFC think? That I wouldn’t find out?”

“Did you want the shot instead of Nate?” I asked.

“Yeah, of course. But I wasn’t in good with them at the time, so I just tried to be happy for Nate and support him. We felt he was ready at the time.”

Unfortunately, Nate wasn’t as ready as Matt thought. Midway through the first round, he was knocked out cold by a wicked overhand right that landed cleanly on his nose. With a weird, frozen expression of astonishment, his body stiffened as he fell to the mat like an ironing board. The punch made highlight reels forever. Casual fans and those unfamiliar with the sport will only remember Nate Quarry for being the guy who got knocked out by Rich Franklin. The media makes and breaks fighters like Nate.

The media is something Lindland understands and, more important, knows how to use to his advantage. The constant hospitality he showed me and other journalists I saw him with underscored a mutual understanding that each party benefited from the engagement as long as the rules are adhered to.

“But here’s the thing I get antsy about,” he told me. “People will base their perceptions off a video snippet or an interview and either be a fan of a fighter or hate him because of it. People will see an interview with Ed Herman, let’s say, and if he comes across well, they’ll think, ‘I like this guy. He’s a really good guy,’ based off that interview. But we all have character flaws, you know? We’re all human. If they knew us on a more personal level, they might not like us. Then again, they might like us more.”

This point was along the lines of what I was out to prove, though we saw the problem from different angles. As far as his own image was concerned, I had never seen or read an interview with Matt that discussed his family values. It just wasn’t something the hype machine focused on because it didn’t sell magazines or DVDs. But after spending time with him and learning about his commitments to his wife and kids, I respected him more for it.

But this is the life of a professional athlete. It’s the life these guys strive to achieve, and it has to be expected. Fighters like Matt and his stable are at the forefront of the MMA explosion. They interact with fans on a daily basis, either in person or through their websites. They do radio shows, sign autographs, and have followers who hang on their every word. And this behavior will only increase as MMA becomes more mainstream.

My time with Matt ended for the day when he did something that continued to underscore the kind of guy he was. A young fighter was in town practicing with Team Quest. His name was Zach, and since he was only seventeen, his father—like a responsible father should—accompanied him from Oklahoma to survey and approve the training program his son aspired to be part of.

Zach’s dad was impressed with Team Quest and thanked Matt for the time he’d spent developing his son over the past week. The conversation soon turned to each man’s favorite hobby, fishing. After a couple of quick “one that got away” tales, Matt invited Zach and his father to go fishing for Pacific salmon with him and his own son the next day. It was a moment that said so much about who he is.

Zach’s dad caught a steelhead.

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