Justin Gaethje May Be the Most Self-Aware Man in MMA

Mixed martial arts may be the most honest of sports—two contestants barely dressed, on display, without teammates or compatriots, in a cage, with nothing more than their strengths and skills to protect their flesh—but outside the cage the fighter tends to keep himself locked up. Whether out of indifference or incapacity or some kind of instinctual understanding that self-exposure in interviews compounding all that self-exposure in the cage would leave him nothing for himself and therefore entirely vulnerable in both body and spirit, the fighter gives almost nothing of himself when talking to writers and reporters. Most of the time it's either typical athlete's pabulum about giving 100% or constant puffing of the chest to prove one's bravery and indomitability. One rarely gets true honesty from a fighter, and who can blame them?—what with their opponents out there eagerly parsing every word, searching for clues and signs of mental weakness they can then use to their advantage. Why would a fighter risk it?

Even understanding this, though, it can be hard for MMA fans to survive on pabulum and bragging alone. We are human after all and we need something more, something substantial, something meaningful. It's why we watch fighting in the first place. And it is why when a fighter like Justin Gaethje comes along we need to grab onto him and luxuriate in his honesty.
Not having followed Gaethje's career closely (he was the undefeated World Series of Fighting champion for years but recently signed a contract with the UFC), I was pleasantly surprised to read excerpts from his interview yesterday on The MMA Hour in which he, a fighter known for his head-down brawlers style, made the kinds of admissions about his fears and desires most fighters, especially those making their debut in the biggest promotion in the sports after years in AAA, would generally keep to themselves, either out of self-preservation or simple muscle memory.

Not so Justin Gaethje, God bless him. Asked who he would like to fight when he makes his promotional debut, the Arizona native didn't thump his chest and demand a title shot or hem and haw and say he'd fight anyone the promotion assigned him or call out the name of someone he doesn't like personally or a fighter he thinks would be an easy out for his debut fight. Instead, working on the theory that life is simply a series of experiences, neither inherently good nor bad, and that therefore the most fulfilling way to live is to present oneself with the greatest challenges, Gaethje went about exposing himself to the brutal world he'd just entered. "I want the scariest fight possible," Gaethje said. "When you say that, you can tell me who that is. When you think scariest, heaviest kicks, knees, elbows, punches, scariest knockouts, who comes to your mind?"
Who came to mind for Gaethje was Brazilian Edson Barboza. Who is undeniably terrifying. But the fact that a professional fighter was admitting a desired opponent, or really any other fighter, is terrifying was a shock and a breath of fresh air in a canned world: an admission not only of weakness and humanity but an announcement of a philosophy of life: that experience is the only thing and rarefied air can only breathed in moments of greatest risk.

"I'm 17-0 with 14 knockouts. I've been saying I'm the best in the world for a long time," Gaethje continued. "I'm up here standing on a pedestal in front of the world, and I'm ready to fall flat on my face, so I want the scariest dude, the one who can embarrass me the most."

What mixed martial artist ever even admits the possibility of embarrassment when talking about an upcoming fight, much less courts it? I'm starting to like this Justin Gaethje. Not content with copping to his terror and the possibility of humiliation the first time he steps into the Octagon after years of hoping and wondering, Gaethje admitted that his fear of Barboza was almost debilitating the first time he seriously considered it.

"When I sat down and knew I was going to go to the UFC, I thought of Edson Barboza and I almost had a panic attack," Gaethje said. "And then right away I called my manager Ali Abdel-Aziz. I said, 'Ali, that's the fight I want.' I think it's the worst fight in the lightweight division for me, the scariest."

It takes a particular kind of personality to come out of a near panic attack and immediately demand to face the thing that caused it, to willingly run in the direction of one's greatest fear. Forget the possibility of public shame and humiliation and terror, for a minute: Most fighters, thinking of their careers, would avoid their worst possible matchup if only to keep their job. Why risk getting thrown out of the promotion you just spent the last 10 years killing yourself to get into by calling out the man you just confessed is the worst possible matchup for you, and a man who, by your own admission, would relish the chance to fight someone of your particular disposition?: "I can't see the most dangerous, baddest man on the planet at 155 pounds, in my mind, not wanting to fight someone that gets hit way too much and is willing to get knocked out."

Christ, Gaethje, there is no end to your self-awareness. And for that reason alone, in my mind you've jumped right to the top of the most stacked division in the UFC. Technique and records be damned: I want to watch fighters who are hungry for more life.