The Laws of the Ring (16 page)

The 19th Law of Power

Keep It Real: Build Your Name by Being You

R
ight after the Velasquez fight, a big African-American guy came up to me and introduced himself. He really didn't need to, though, because I was a big fan of Quinton “Rampage” Jackson. It was June of 2004, before he had become a big name in the UFC or made any movies in Hollywood.

“My name's Quinton,” he said. “I fight for Pride; it's like the UFC in Japan.”

“I know who you are,” I said. “I watch all your fights.”

He was actually surprised, because at the time he was relatively unknown in the United States. Rampage made his name in Japan, where he was loved for his fighting, his big slams, and his sense of humor. I had seen a ton of the interviews he'd given while fighting for Pride in Japan, and I thought they were hilarious. I loved his gamesmanship and how he managed to be both incredibly intense and funny at the same time. The idea of him coming to the Colusa Casino and watching me fight was a big deal to me.

“I'm going to be a big fan of yours,” he told me. “I don't know what it is about you, but I usually get jealous of up-and-coming guys. I'm not jealous of you. When I saw you get kicked in the face and get right back up, I said, ‘I like this dude!' ”

At the time I didn't have a nickname, and was just getting a hold on the whole idea of marketing yourself and the business of the fight game. Well, Rampage was there to help.

“Play up the whole surfer thing,” he told me. “You know, do the ‘hang loose, cowabunga, dude' thing. You gotta market yourself, you gotta stand out. Your fighting is badass! I'll be rooting for you man, I'm your fan.” This was a cool experience for me, encouraging, to say the least. I had one of my favorite fighters saying that I was “badass.” I kept Quinton's advice in mind over the next year of competing, at the end of which I still didn't have a nickname in the sport. It took a hint from another peer before I finally sniffed out my “California Kid” ring name.

The next year I had heard that there was a competition for grappling where you could make up to ten thousand dollars competing in a no-gi Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu competition. I looked up the tournament online, saw that it was only two weeks away, and sent an e-mail to the guy who was in charge, Kid Peligro. It read, “Hi, my name is Urijah Faber. I am a former Division I wrestler from UC Davis; I was top 12 in the nation in 2002 and a runner-up in the University Nationals for freestyle wrestling the same year. I also currently have world titles in both the
Gladiator Challenge
and
King of the Cage
MMA leagues. I've been training jujitsu for two years under BJJ world champion Cassio Werneck, and I'd like to compete in the ADCC this year. Is it true that I can win $10,000? Please let me know, thank you. Urijah Faber.” That same day I got a message back that said they would love to have me.

So I woke up the next morning and went about my day, coaching wrestling two times, once at 6
A.M.
, then again from 3 to 5
P.M.
After that I showered up and drove to Carmichael, about thirty minutes away, to train jujitsu at six-thirty. I walked into the school and popped my head into my instructor Cassio's office.

“Hey, Cass, I think I'm gonna do that no-gi tournament called Abu Dhabi. I heard you can win like ten Gs.”

He looked at me briefly then looked back at his computer and said in broken English-Portuguese, “Oh no, you can't do that tournament. That's the world championship, that's the biggest tournament in BJJ. They only allow ten people in each weight in the whole world. And it's in two weeks.”

I was a little confused, so I explained, “Well, I sent an e-mail, I'm pretty sure that I can.” Cassio explained again that this was an elite tournament. There were qualifying tournaments and representatives from around the world, the most difficult tournament to get into; he wasn't even allowed to go because he didn't live in Brazil anymore.

“Maybe try out next time Urijah, it's every other year.” I explained again that I had sent an e-mail and they told me that same day that I could compete. I walked over to Cassio's computer and pulled up the e-mail. It hadn't occurred to him that I had some serious credentials.

“See, they said I'm good to go.” I had never seen him so excited, nor did I have any idea that it was such a big deal; to me it wasn't. It would be my first jujitsu competition ever and I only had two weeks to learn the rules and regulations of official ADCC world championships.

Two weeks later I was in Southern California ready to compete. It was pretty shocking when I got to the Host Hotel. I had brought my two buddies Virgil and TJ with me on the trip, as usual, and found out that although the rooms were paid for, each competitor was matched up as roommates with another competitor. I got my room assignment and it turned out I was supposed to be rooming with one of the brightest up-and-coming stars of the UFC, Georges St-Pierre. With Virg and TJ at my side, I tracked down Georges to explain to him that I had screwed up and brought my friends to stay in our room.

“St-Pierre, St-Pierre!” I yelled down the hall. When I approached him, he thought that I was some kind of eager fan and treated me as such, turning to me quickly and extending his hand to shake.

“Hello, how are you? Georges,” he said with a big smile and a funny French Canadian accent.

I could tell he had no idea that I was his roommate, so I started the conversation with, “Congrats on your last win! You did awesome.” He answered quickly, trying to get the small talk out of the way, and move on.

“Did you want a picture?” he asked sincerely.

“Oh, I don't have a camera, man. I'm supposed to be rooming with you but I brought my two friends. Sorry, man, I just didn't realize that we were sharing.” A lightbulb went off in his head.

“Oh!” He laughed. “It's okay, I'm gonna get my own room. Good luck tomorrow.”

I said, “Cool, man. Yeah, you, too, and I'm a fan of yours. I fight, too, in
King of the Cage.
My name's Urijah.”

It was starting to sink in that this tournament was a big deal.

The next day I came to the tournament and everyone was there. I started looking around and saw one of my early favorites, MMA superstar Tito “The Huntington Beach Bad Boy” Ortiz, warming up to my left. To my right was former UFC champion Ricco “Suave” Rodriguez and UFC welterweight contender Frank “Twinkle Toes” Trigg. I walked to the edge of the mat and said hello to my fellow Northern Californian competitors Gilbert “El Niño” Melendez and Jake Shields. Gilbert and I were in the same weight class and knew each other from college wrestling. We had also done some cross-training that Nick and Nate Diaz had put together. Jake and I had been in the same small school subsection together in high school in neighboring towns, and knew each other pretty well.

“What's up, Gil, you got Japan first? I've got Parrumpinha from Brazil [one of American Top Team's BJJ coaches]. Let's get it done for the USA, baby! Good luck.”

Gil gave me a big smile and said, “Forget that, let's do it for Cali!” I laughed and we gave each other the standard California handshake.

“Yup, let's do it for Cali!” I smiled with a little extra pride. I continued to walk around the arena and saw a small crowd around a big dude with a huge chain hung on his neck. It was Quinton “Rampage” Jackson. A friend . . . and a fan of mine. He caught a glimpse of me walking up the concourse and yelled out, giving me his big signature smile.

“What's up, California Kid!”

I gave him a head nod and shot him a smile then went on my way. But that name bounced around my head. Gilbert's comment about doing it for “Cali” was there, too. I remember thinking,
California is a cool place
. I made my way back to the warm-up mats and was soon approached by none other than UFC's ring announcer Bruce Buffer. It was my first time meeting him and I was a fan. He had been hired to announce the event and was looking to get my name perfect for the announcements.

“You're Uri-Jah right? I'm going to be announcing you today.” He didn't get the name right, so I corrected him.

“It's actually pronounced U-
ri
-ah, the
j
is silent. I'm sure it's hard to get all the names right, you have to say a ton of them.” He was quick to correct me.

“Actually, I rarely have trouble with names. It won't happen again,” he said with confidence, making it very apparent that he wasn't the type to make errors in his area of expertise. “Do you have a nickname?”

I quickly told him that I didn't. “No, just my name.”

He said, “Okay, nice to meet you,” and turned to walk away. I stopped him after a few steps and got his attention.

“Hey, Bruce, actually I do have a nickname. Put down ‘The California Kid.' ” He looked at me and quickly jotted it on his notepad.

“Got it!”

The tournament was tough. I won the first match against the Brazilian black belt Parrumpinha and then lost a hard-fought battle with multiple time BJJ and ADCC world champion Marcos Feitosa in the only submission loss of my life in competition. But some more important things happened that day. I was a peer with some of the biggest names in MMA and had competed at the highest level in a discipline that I had only trained in for two years, and I felt in my heart that with a few adjustments I could have been a world champion that year. My new nickname was established and I was excited for the future of my career, knowing there was a place for a happy, friendly, blond, and bronzed kid from California.

It's obvious that certain areas in life are filled with stereotypes and status quos, but it's always best to stay true to yourself and carve your own niche in this world. Even when you may seemingly not fit the mold.

The 20th Law of Power

Build a Community of Potential

H
ere's what I've learned: If you surround yourself with positive, like-minded people, success will follow. The power of community is vital for physical, mental, and financial health. As I sat down to write this book, I came to understand some deep-seated values that I held, values that trace back to my family's time in the Christian commune. Many of the tenets that have guided my life, I now realize, were not from specific teachings and lessons of the Christian commune but the positive energy and combination of the great people that made up the group.

The question is: How do you go about forming or joining the kind of community—a community of potential—that brings out the best in both the individual and the whole? My experience with the Dunmores, despite being relatively short-lived, taught me to seek potential in others. I don't look for people who
have
achieved great things; I look for people who
will
achieve great things.

A
fter my third fight, right after I got the Dunmore sponsorship, I decided I wanted to buy a house. I didn't know anything about real estate, but I knew I wanted a house and I knew my meager income made the prospect unlikely. I had a college friend, Michael Yosef, who was in the mortgage industry, and he said, “I can get you a loan.”

“Dude, my income was only ten thousand bucks last year.”

“Don't worry about it,” he said. “We'll figure it out.”

With that vague commitment providing motivation, I went house-hunting. I was so ignorant of the process that I refused to speak with real estate agents because I didn't want to have to pay them. I didn't know they showed houses for free, which is why I turned away ten or twelve agents who expressed an interest in helping me. So I drove around on my own, looking through neighborhoods I liked that contained houses I could afford (that was a rare combination), picking up flyers, and hitting some open houses.

At an open house in an older part of Sacramento, I met an agent named Dana. She was filling in for her friend, who was supposed to be showing the house, and I liked her immediately. Dana was a tough, smart woman and gave me a quick crash course to educate me on the real estate process, which relieved any worries I had about paying an agent to show me homes. I told her I knew I could afford a monthly house payment, because my plan was to move my buddies into the house and split up the cost. She believed me and agreed to help me find something.

Looking back, I see that I was a real estate agent's worst nightmare, spending the first month with Dana tossing out lowball offers on all these shitty houses. But I loved her straightforward and honest approach; she would look at the houses I was targeting and say, “You don't want to buy this house” or “What are you looking at
this
for?” She was more supportive than perhaps was reasonable, but I guess that's why I trusted her.

Then we found a pocket of nice homes tucked in between Interstate 80 and a busy industrial street I didn't know existed. It wasn't a prestigious address, but it was superquiet, with big trees and huge backyards. It was perfect.

I found a house that was kind of a piece of shit, but it was a nicer piece of shit than any of the others I had considered. It had a huge mess of a backyard, with old trees and junk everywhere. I could see the potential in it right away. I didn't see the disaster it was; I saw what it would become. The houses in the rest of the neighborhood were all well kept and unique. Most of my neighbors were in their eighties and many had them built years ago. A fireplace sat in the middle of the living room and there were old beat-up hardwood floors that I thought looked kind of cool. There was a big detached garage and huge trees in both the front and the backyard. I could envision a big pool in the back (when I earned enough money) and the neighborhood was quiet—at least before I got there. The house was a metaphor for the way I saw the world: raw but promising.

So after lowballing all these houses for weeks, I told Dana, “I love this house. Offer full price.” There were two other full-price offers, from people I imagine were far more qualified to own a home, but Dana went to work. She told the old lady who owned the house my story. I don't know what version she told her, but I ended up getting the house. I moved in a couple of my best friends, Dustin Soderman and Virgil Moorehead, to help pay the mortgage.

D
ustin soon got serious with his future wife, Maggie, and moved in with her. Shortly after, my buddy from college Tommy was making the move from a nearby town and was looking for a house. I showed him my neighborhood and the house next to mine, which happened to be for sale. Virgil and Tommy decided to partner up and buy the place. I moved in a young aspiring fighter from Hawaii named TJ Kuahine who I had met at a wrestling camp, and then my college wrestling rival, Matt Sanchez, who had taken my spot as a coach at UC Davis moved onto the block (more on him and our rivalry later). The place was always jam-packed. Guys would drop in and stay on the couch for a few weeks, get some training, then head home or find a way to stay. Tommy and Virgil had five rooms in their house and kept filling them up with renters: old college friends, wrestling buddies, aspiring fighters. My friends would get married or otherwise head off on their own and someone new would snatch up their spot.

Flash ahead, pretty soon I owned three houses on the street and my friends owned two. The houses have been filled with guys from every part of the United States and many parts of the world: Thailand, Brazil, Australia, Japan, Canada, Alaska, Florida, Idaho, Hawaii, and of course California (from San Diego to the edge of the Oregon border). Today, we have what amounts to a fighters' commune. This is my network. We're all huddled under the umbrella, including Pop and Ryan next door. Tommy handles the business side of things (you'll read about him shortly), I handle the fighting, and many others fill the gaps in between. I guess you could call it a nonreligious rebuild of the Isla Vista Christian commune. We call them “friendly houses” and it all started with a tough-minded real estate agent who saw something in a young guy with a limited job history, very little money, and a penchant for fumbling around with more passion than knowledge.