Matt Lindland is upset. It’s nothing new for the Oregon fighter and coach. Ornery seems to be his default setting, it comes to him so easily.
What’s irking him now is the Fox Sports Net cameraman asking him to remove his baseball cap for a video interview. Lindland fixes the man with a quick stare and thumbs at the tobacco chew in his lip.
“I don’t know, man,” he says. “I’m really bald.”
It’s true. Lindland hasn’t been blessed with movie star-looks. A lifetime of amateur wrestling and pro fighting hasn’t helped any.
His ears have been twisted and smashed. His nose is flattened and crooked. One look at his face and you know he’s never learned an easy lesson in his life.
When his FSN interview gets underway, the normally reserved Lindland squints into the harsh TV lights and tries his best to seem happy to be there.
The reporter asks him just about every question he can think of regarding his team, the Portland Wolfpack. He asks about Lindland’s future, about his past. But one question hangs in the air unasked and unanswered.
Is this man, the one who looks more like a lumberjack than a pro athlete, really the world’s best 185 pound fighter?
It’s the question they’re debating again and again on internet forums and discussion boards. Some say he’s the best middleweight.
Others say he’s the pound-for-pound best in the sport. A few even claim he’s the outright greatest, bar none.
Of course Lindland is good. His resume proves that much. But the best?
“Absolutely I’m the best,” he says when I ask, almost scoffing at the question. “There’s no question. I’m the best middleweight. I’m at least in the top five at light heavyweight. I’ll even fight heavyweight. I’m probably one of the top guys at welterweight, too, but you’d have to pay me a lot of money to cut down to 170 pounds.”
These are heavy claims, no matter who you are. The fighting world has never had a shortage of guys claiming to be the greatest. In a way it seems like bragging has become an essential aspect of the fighter personality.
But Lindland isn’t just talking. He has an army of supporters backing him up, not to mention an Olympic silver medal in Greco-Roman wrestling, and a professional MMA record of 19-4 against some of the sport’s biggest names.
And still, Lindland has to go to great lengths just to find an opponent.
This past summer he took on Quinton "Rampage" Jackson at 205 pounds, losing a closely contested decision in the short-lived World Fighting Alliance. Rumors are that this spring he’ll go even further out of his weight class to fight Fedor Emelianenko, MMA’s undisputed heavyweight king.
Fans have reacted with a mixture of shock and pity at this last announcement. Emelianenko has destroyed the best heavyweights in the world, so what would he do to a man who is a few buffets shy of two hundred pounds?
Still, Lindland seems undaunted. In his quest for respect, he’s used to starting at a disadvantage.
In fact, of his last three bouts, only one – a TKO victory over journeyman Jeremy Horn – was firmly in Lindland’s range at 185 pounds.
But why would he continue taking these fights against much larger superstars, when he could just as easily fight up-and-comers in his own weight class?
“I want to fight the most competitive fights I can, the toughest fights I can, and sure, I want to prove myself to everyone,” says Lindland. “I’m willing to fight for any organization, against anyone. If one of these organizations wants to prove that they’ve got the best fighters in the world, they’re going to have to come get me to fight for them.”
So far many organizations have been reluctant to do that, and it’s not hard to see why.
Lindland doesn’t have the kind of face that they want to put on fight posters and his reputation for being a truculent critic of fight promoters makes him unpredictable, at best.
The IFL – where Lindland coaches his own team and is scheduled to fight his second superfight against Carlos Newton two weeks from now in Houston, Texas – is the closest thing Lindland has had to a permanent home in the fighting world in recent years.
His release from the UFC for wearing a non-sanctioned T-shirt to a weigh-in was met with confusion and anger by fans, but Lindland says he understands the motivations behind the move.
“They have their own reason for who they want to push and promote. It doesn’t always come down to pure competition or athletic accomplishments. So much of it is who they want to push. A lot of guys come in and get one gimme fight and then a title shot.”
“Rich Franklin, for example, came in and fought Ken Shamrock at the end of his career,” Lindland points out. “Ken should have retired before that fight, but he was finally getting paid so he decided to stick around. He’s got a great name, but he was way past his prime. They threw him at Rich, Rich beat him, and the next thing you know he gets a shot at the title.”
That title shot, as most fans know, had already been promised to Lindland. Franklin went on to win the UFC title, while Lindland was let go behind the T-shirt fiasco. Other men might have never gotten over such an unlucky slight, but Lindland isn’t one to complain.
“I’ve had to work hard for everything I’ve got,” he says. “Nothing was given to me. Not ever. I’m the best because I’m tougher than everyone else. I train harder than anyone. I wasn’t blessed with a whole lot of athleticism, but I’ve developed these skills and abilities through hard work.”
Whatever else you say about Lindland, you can’t deny him that claim.
The setbacks in Lindland’s career have almost never been the result of what he does in the ring. He’s taken on all comers, soundly defeating most, and has never been accused of giving anything less than 100% when the bell sounds.
So why isn’t he famous? Why isn’t every fight a huge payday, and why isn’t there a championship belt around his waist?
One can’t help but wonder how things might be different for Lindland if he had the right look, the right tattoos. As it is, he takes fights where he can find them, and says he doesn’t worry about what he might have missed.
“I’m always satisfied with my life and with what I’ve accomplished,” says Lindland. “I’ve got the wife I wanted, the children I wanted. I’ve lived a blessed life.”
“Fame and awards are nice, but it’s not the ultimate goal of my life. I told my wife what I want on my tombstone: ‘A simple man who got all he wanted.’ That sounds good enough to me.”
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