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WALKER: The Enigma of Brock Lesnar - And Why There Will Never Be Another
Jan 19, 2012 - 2:30:33 PM WALKER: The Enigma of Brock Lesnar - And Why There Will Never Be Another

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By: Brad Walker, MMATorch Contributor

On March 18, 2002, those of us who are fans of professional wrestling saw something that stunned us all. The scariest muscle bound man I've ever laid eyes on slid into the ring on Monday Night Raw and decimated Al Snow, Maven and Spike Dudley. Now, when you think about it, to be the biggest, baddest, scariest dude in a WWE ring you have to have one hell of a physique. Brock Lesnar not only had an astounding physique, but his brutal strength and ability to throw these 230 pound guys around was unheard of. Suddenly, in a two minute time span, Hulk Hogan looked small, Goldberg seemed like a dud, and The Rock... who?

It was a one of a kind impact - and a moment most of us wrestling fans will never forget - the debut of Brock Lesnar. A man standing 6'2" and weighing over 300 pounds of solid muscle, a brick s***-house of pain. Surely we all knew at that very moment that the world of wrestling was going to change, and change permanently, but little did we know the full extent of what Brock would go on to do. He went on to become a three-time WWE champion, he won the Royal Rumble, and he was the King of the Ring – all within three years. This was unheard of, but the best was yet to come.

After exiting the WWE in formidable fashion in a face-off with Goldberg and refereed by Stone Cold Steve Austin at WrestleMania 20, Brock had his eye on the NFL. In what many people still believe was a publicity stunt, he was signed by the Minnesota Vikings. He started fights during games, he made obnoxious hits, and he knew how to piss off a crowd; this was the real Brock Lesnar. He had established himself as a heel in a sport that didn't have heels, backstories or entrance music.  Eventually, after nearly killing Kansas City Chiefs Quarterback Damon Huard, he was a late cut, and released to free agency. It should be noted that the Vikings did offer to have him play for their NFL Europa team, Lesnar, however declined to remain close at home with his family.

A new passion didn't take long to be found by Lesnar, as in April of 2006 he appeared in the ring at K-1 Hero's in Las Vegas and declared that he was going to compete in the MMA ring. When I first heard this, I laughed uncontrollably for hours on end. Brock Lesnar can't beat people up – he pretends to in his little black trunks. Then it was announced, Lesnar vs. Choi Hong-Man. Now I KNEW that Brock was going to get killed - Hong-Man is a mammoth, 7'2", 373 pounds, this was going to be a murder. Prior to the actual bout, Hong-Man was forced to withdraw and was replaced by Min Soo Kim, who ironically had previously defeated another former WWE star in Hero's 2005 - which was Sean O'Haire. This was the perfect formula, they brought in the guy who beat O'Haire to make Lesnar look like a fool and send him back to the WWE.

Boy, was I wrong. It took a whopping 69 seconds for Brock to get on top of Kim and beat him into submission with his massive Volkswagen Beetle-esque fists. Once I saw the footage from the fight, my initial reaction was curiosity; I wanted to know what this man-beast could do against the best of the best inside of the UFC's very own Octagon. As if hearing my thoughts as I made them, Dana White announced that Lesnar would make his debut at UFC 81 against former UFC Heavyweight Champion Frank Mir. I thought, well, Mir can autopilot through this fight, he's one of the best in the Octagon, just ask Tim Sylvia's arm.

That February, the fight started and Brock revved his engine, scoring a quick takedown and immediately put his hands to use against Frank Mir's face. Only moments later I was yelling at my television, "DAMN YOU MAZZAGATTI!" Referee Steve Mazzagatti had stood Lesnar up and deducted a point for a 'shot to the back of the head', but then we were back on. Lesnar shot back in and took Frank to the mat, not knowing the ever so sneaky knee bar was waiting for him to mark the beginning of the end. Sure, Lesnar tapped out in his first UFC fight, and he took Heath Herring to a decision in his second, but what he did after that is what should impress everyone who loves this sport; he destroyed Randy Couture. He didn't just beat Randy; he beat Randy worse than anyone else ever had. Suddenly the MMA world was watering at the mouth - we wanted more Brock, more beatings, more 4XL-gloved fists.


UFC 100 was up next for Lesnar, and when the wait was over, it was finally time for the scariest man ever created to step back into the cage in his rematch with Frank Mir. The trash talk that lead into this fight is unmatched: death threats, family trashing, it was the greatest series of back and forth the UFC had ever seen. Then, in one of the most lopsided fights I have ever seen, Lesnar beat the facial hair off of Frank Mir. Brock was officially the new face of UFC, the new face of fear. Alas, tragedy struck, and Brock was sidelined by diverticulitis for almost an entire year, and we were all forced to wait.

After a few minor miracles and the emergence of Shane Carwin, Dana White announced Lesnar vs. Carwin for UFC 116, and branded it as the "biggest fight of all time" – a valid point since both Brock and Shane had to cut weight to make 265. The first round was grim; Brock got beaten like a red headed step child, and things were looking bad. Round two came, and I truly believe the world simultaneously jumped out of their seats and said "HOLY S**!" as Lesnar secured an arm-triangle choke to finish Carwin. It was an amazing moment; Brock had (kind of) gone toe to toe with one of the hardest hitters in MMA and won by - of all things - submission! The new era was upon us, Brock was back and better than ever, or so I thought.

I was so excited for UFC 121 that I went out beforehand with my buddy Mike, and we bought as much beer as we thought his pickup could hold, all in anticipation of celebrating Brock crushing Cain Velasquez. The prelims went past - the main event was next - I was increasingly drunk and singing the praises of Brock. The promo aired, Brock took jabs at Cain's Mexican heritage and said after he beat him he was going to eat a taco and drink a corona in remembrance of the fight. He was re-establishing himself as the ultimate heel. As I stumbled back to the couch and plopped down next to my wife, fresh beer in hand, confidence turned up to 11, I was ready for the destruction. My wife was all about Cain and their partially shared heritage; I was all about Brock and our partially shared love of domestic beer.

The lights in the arena went dark, Enter Sandman by Metallica started playing, and I was suddenly sober. Then the fight started, and Brock charged. It took me less than 30 seconds to be coaching Brock from my friend's living room - "What the hell are you doing?? Hold him down! Don't trade with that guy! Put him on his ass!" Suddenly I needed another beer, Brock needed stitches, and Cain needed a round of applause. My wife was in my face, "I TOLD YOU SO, I'M NEVER WRONG!" With my head down, I went home, wondering where the Brock Lesnar who seemed invincible had gone. I pondered what was next for Brock as I frantically refreshed my MMATorch app and waited to see Penick's Analysis.

Little did we all know we were about to get a double dosage of Brock on the Ultimate Fighter season 13. Junior dos Santos didn't seem like an entertaining guy next to Brock, but I said "what the hell," and tried to imagine how the coaches' fight would go. Then, much to my chagrin, the diverticulitis was back, and Brock was out, in need of surgery. Crap, "so who's going to reign supreme while Brock heals up and gets himself back in shape?" I thought. I found other fighters to get behind and left Brock behind in my memory, fully expecting him to never return to the MMA cage as a fighter.

Then, one morning as I rolled out of bed and checked my MMATorch updates, I saw it - Lesnar vs. Overeem - holy s***! I was so ridiculously stoked for this battle of giants, having been an Overeem fan going all the way back to Pride and a Lesnar fan going all the way back to his spandex. I didn't know who to pick, I was like a little kid watching the Royal Rumble again, I had options, and I couldn't play favorites. I called my brother Ritch - he didn't have a choice, he was going to plant his ass on my couch and watch this fight with me, I couldn't be the only one tweaking out running circles around the living room while two goliaths collided inside of the cage. The poster was epic, the matchup was incredible and the fight was ... eh.

We all know that Brock was dethroned as Mr. Scary by Alistair Overeem, and that we have seen the last of Brock Lesnar inside of the Octagon, but what we don't know is how much impact he truly had on the sport. I can throw a rock at my computer screen while on Facebook or twitter and have it dent my screen in the middle of an anti-Lesnar rant by some half-assed fan that doesn't look at the big picture. Brock, with less than two full years of experience in the cage, took on a legend in Randy Couture, beat him and took the UFC Heavyweight Championship. To this very day the thought of someone being able to do that is absolutely insane and unfounded, unless their name is Brock Lesnar. He changed the sport forever, and for the better.

He proved that natural athleticism can trump anything you're taught in a gym or by a coach, for a time; he proved that speed can still exist in the heavyweight division; he proved that fake beating people up can lead to actually beating the crap out of grown men. Nothing Brock Lesnar did will be forgotten in the future; he turned the sport of MMA on its head, and showed critics just how wrong they could be about one guy. There had not been a so-to-speak heel in Mixed Martial Arts perhaps ever on the level that Lesnar portrayed one. I can't count the number of times during fights I expected his entrance music to hit and him to start cutting a promo on some poor guy who was trying to finish a fight. Brock Lesnar is one of a kind, he covers a spectrum of violence that no one before him, or anyone after him, will ever manage with such success.

Others have attempted to follow in the steps of Brock. Dave Bautista, Shad Gaspard, and Bobby Lashley among the more predominant names on the list. Lashley has a great base for MMA but the man's gas tank is so small that you couldn't run a razor scooter off of it and expect to get around the block. Bautista suffered some pretty severe injuries while in WWE and will probably never step into a cage professionally, and Shad Gaspard gave up trying to pursue small rolls in even smaller movies. Brock came, saw, and conquered in such short time that the thought that his career is already over seems absurd. I understand why he retired, and I think very highly of him for doing it; when you have a family, it is by far and wide the most important thing in the world to you. I know that if my wife and daughters asked me to stop doing something, I wouldn't make them ask twice.

Brock is as polarizing an individual as we will probably ever see in the UFC, perhaps in MMA in general. He talked a lot of crap, backed a lot of it up, and beat the ass out of a lot of other big, scary dudes. He reigned as champion, and defended his title twice, something only Randy Couture and Tim Sylvia had done before him. He brought the art of trash talking to a whole new level, and raised the bar for UFC salaries for big named fighters. Brock was not a flash in the pan or a passer-by in the world of MMA - he was a champion; and now that he is retired he should be considered a future hall of famer nearing the brink of legendary. He was the first, he was the only, and he'll always be Brock Lesnar.

[Brock Lesnar art by Grant Gould (c) MMATorch.com]