Brazil’s number one flyweight, Marciano Ferreira , is set to return to the BRAVE Combat Federation stage with not just victory in mind, but a mission to cement his name among the division’s elite. On December 13 , at BRAVE CF 91  in Khalifa Sports City, Ferreira will square off against Kazakhstan’s rising sensation, Dias Erengaipov , in a high-stakes clash that has the MMA world buzzing. But Ferreira’s ambitions don’t end with this fight. His sights are already set on a future showdown with the undefeated flyweight sensation Muhammad Mokaev , the man he considers the ultimate challenge in the division. "Once I handle Erengaipov, there's only one name left to prove I’m the best 57kg fighter—not just in Brazil, but in the world,"  Ferreira declared with unshakable confidence. "Mokaev is good, but I’m better, and I’ll show everyone why." This matchup marks Ferreira’s first BRAVE CF fight since rising to the pinnacle of the Brazilian flyweight rankings, and he’s determined to make a statement. A Night Packed with Pivotal Battles Ferreira’s bout isn’t the only fireworks BRAVE CF 91 promises. On the same night, Muhammad Mokaev  will defend his undefeated record against Luthando Biko , a critical fight for the future of the flyweight division. Fans are eager to see whether Mokaev can maintain his dominance or if Biko can upset the trajectory of one of MMA's most hyped talents. In the main event, Bantamweight Champion Nkosi Ndebele  will put his title on the line against the relentless Nicholas Hwende . With both fighters known for their explosive styles, this championship bout is expected to deliver edge-of-your-seat action. The Road Ahead for Ferreira Ferreira knows his clash with Erengaipov won’t be a walk in the park. The Kazakh contender is renowned for his relentless pace and versatility, posing a tough challenge for Ferreira’s dream of flyweight dominance. However, Ferreira is unfazed, viewing this as a stepping stone to his ultimate goal. A Year-End MMA Spectacle BRAVE CF 91 , hosted in Isa Town, Bahrain , kicks off an epic two-event finale for BRAVE Combat Federation's 2024 calendar. Two nights later, fans will be treated to another action-packed card on December 15 , making this double-header an unmissable celebration of global MMA talent. Ferreira’s journey to greatness begins on December 13—will he take the first step toward becoming the flyweight king? The world is watching.

UFC 311 Main Event Poster via ufc.com The highly anticipated rematch between reigning UFC Lightweight Champion Islam Makhachev vs rising contender Arman Tsarukyan has been confirmed as the main event of UFC 311, scheduled for Jan 18, 2025. This blockbuster fight promises fireworks, as both fighters are riding impressive win streaks and have shown exceptional growth since their first clash in 2019. In their initial meeting, which served as Tsarukyan’s UFC debut, fans witnessed an intense, grappling-heavy battle that earned Fight of the Night honors. Tsarukyan pushed the now-champion to the limit, showcasing his skills in one of Makhachev’s toughest tests to date. However, Makhachev’s relentless pace and four successful takedowns secured a unanimous decision victory, cementing his dominance in the lightweight division. Since then, Makhachev has gone on an extraordinary nine-fight winning streak, extending his overall streak to 14. His run includes capturing the lightweight title with a masterful performance against Charles Oliveira and successfully defending it three times—twice against Alexander Volkanovski and most recently with a victory over Dustin Poirier. Meanwhile, Tsarukyan has surged up the rankings, winning nine of his last 10 bouts. His impressive resume includes a first-round knockout of Beneil Dariush and a razor-thin split decision win over former champion Oliveira. With both fighters operating at their peak, this rematch is already being billed as one of the most compelling matchups in lightweight history. Co-Main Event: Dvalishvili vs. Nurmagomedov for the Bantamweight Title The co-main event features another electrifying showdown as reigning UFC Bantamweight Champion Merab Dvalishvili  takes on undefeated phenom Umar Nurmagomedov . Dvalishvili captured UFC gold in September at UFC 306, dethroning Sean O’Malley in dominant fashion. Riding an incredible 11-fight win streak, the Georgian has earned his spot as one of the most formidable fighters in the division, with victories over high-profile opponents like Henry Cejudo, José Aldo, and Petr Yan. However, Dvalishvili now faces perhaps his toughest challenge in Nurmagomedov. Boasting an impeccable 18-0 professional record, Nurmagomedov is widely regarded as one of the most dangerous bantamweights in the world. He enters the bout following a commanding unanimous decision victory over Cory Sandhagen, proving his readiness for the title shot. With two high-stakes bouts headlining UFC 311, this event is shaping up to be one of the most anticipated fight cards of the year. Fans can expect nothing short of spectacular performances as these elite athletes compete for supremacy in their respective divisions.

Chase Hooper via ufc.com At UFC 310: Pantoja vs. Asakura , an electrifying generational clash will unfold inside the Octagon as 25-year-old Chase Hooper  takes on 42-year-old UFC veteran Clay Guida . This bout betwen Chase Hooper vs Clay Guida not only marks the second-largest age gap in UFC history but also pits youthful ambition against seasoned resilience in a matchup that promises fireworks. A 17-Year Age Gap That Tells a Story When Clay Guida made his UFC debut in 2006 , Chase Hooper was a seven-year-old dreaming of his future. Fast forward to 2024, and Hooper, now a promising lightweight contender, faces the grizzled Hall of Famer in a fight that showcases both the evolution of MMA and the timeless appeal of the sport’s legends. This fight is a rare spectacle. Only 10 times  in UFC history has a 16-year-or-greater age gap  graced the Octagon. With 17 years  between them, Hooper vs. Guida becomes an instant piece of history, offering fans a glimpse of the past and future colliding in real-time. Clay Guida: The Energizer Bunny of the UFC Known as one of the most durable and entertaining fighters in UFC history, Guida’s accolades are endless: 36 UFC fights  since 2006. A Hall of Fame inductee for his legendary bout with Diego Sanchez . A who's-who resume, including battles with Charles Oliveira, BJ Penn, Nate Diaz, and Brian Ortega . With a 59-fight professional career , Guida’s relentless cardio, unorthodox striking, and indomitable spirit have made him a fan favorite. His ability to withstand punishment—having been finished by strikes only twice —adds another layer of intrigue to this bout. Chase Hooper: The New Generation’s Submission Specialist Nicknamed "The Dream," Hooper brings a vastly different skill set. A Brazilian jiu-jitsu black belt , he thrives on taking opponents to the ground, where his submission game shines. After a rocky start to his UFC career, Hooper has found his groove: Riding a three-fight win streak  at lightweight. Back-to-back submissions over Jordan Leavitt  and Viacheslav Borshchev . For Hooper, this fight represents an opportunity to prove that the new generation can hang with—and perhaps surpass—the old guard. Styles Make Fights The beauty of this matchup lies in the stylistic clash. Guida’s high-pressure, chaotic striking contrasts sharply with Hooper’s methodical grappling. While Guida is known for barnburners like his Diego Sanchez classic, Hooper will look to control the pace, drag the fight to the mat, and secure a finish. Will Guida’s experience and grit overwhelm Hooper, or will the young submission ace outmaneuver the veteran? A Clash of Eras You Can’t Miss This isn’t just a fight; it’s a battle of philosophies. Guida represents the old-school warrior spirit, a never-say-die fighter whose longevity is a testament to his skill and heart. Hooper, on the other hand, embodies the future of MMA, blending grappling mastery with youthful adaptability. Don’t miss this generational showdown live from the T-Mobile Arena  in Las Vegas, Nevada , on Saturday, December 7, 2024 : Prelims:  8 PM ET / 5 PM PT Main Card:  10 PM ET / 7 PM PT Available live on PPV , this is a fight that will have fans buzzing for years to come.

The June 1977 cover of Black Belt   Magazine marked the beginning of the ninja craze , sparking widespread fascination with these mysterious and deadly figures from Japanese folklore. This trend would grow into a global sensation, influencing movies, television, comics, and pop culture throughout the decade and beyond. Learn more about this cover and the entire magazine preserved in digital format: https://www.blackbeltmag.com

Nate Landwehr via ufc.com The featherweight division never fails to deliver high-octane, edge-of-your-seat action, and UFC 310 is primed to keep that legacy alive. On December 7, 2024, at the T-Mobile Arena in Las Vegas, Nate “The Train” Landwehr vs Dooho “The Korean Superboy” Choi will collide in a bout that promises fireworks from the opening bell. These two warriors, known for their thrilling styles and no-quit attitudes, will kick off the main card of UFC 310: Pantoja vs. Asakura , setting the tone for what is bound to be an unforgettable night of fights. Grab your snacks early—this is one clash you don’t want to miss. Nate Landwehr: The Train Keeps Rolling Nate Landwehr is not just a fighter; he’s an entertainer. Hailing from Clarksville, Tennessee, "The Train" has carved out a reputation as one of the most exciting competitors in the UFC. His journey began in Russia, where he reigned as the M-1 Global Featherweight Champion, before making his Octagon debut in 2020. The road hasn’t been without bumps—two knockout losses in his first three fights left his future uncertain. However, Landwehr roared back to life with a submission victory over Ľudovít Klein in 2021. From there, he’s been on a tear, winning four of his last five fights, with three submissions and a Performance Bonus accompanying each victory. Who could forget his wild war with David Onama in 2022? That fight, a rollercoaster of brutality and resilience, cemented Landwehr as a must-watch fighter. With an average of 6.25 strikes landed per minute—the fifth-highest in featherweight history—Landwehr is a relentless force who thrives in chaos. Dooho Choi: The Return of "The Korean Superboy" Dooho Choi, better known as "The Korean Superboy," is no stranger to show-stealing battles. At just 33 years old, Choi already boasts a career full of highlights, including his legendary war against Cub Swanson at UFC 206—a fight so iconic it was inducted into the UFC Hall of Fame in 2022. Choi’s career has seen its share of ups and downs. After a six-year undefeated streak, the Swanson bout marked the start of a three-fight skid. Despite the setbacks, every loss showcased Choi’s indomitable spirit, earning Fight of the Night honors. Following a three-year hiatus, he returned in 2023, and while his first bout back ended in a controversial draw, Choi rebounded with a vintage finish of Bill Algeo earlier this year. With 14 of his 15 wins coming by knockout and a striking average of 4.5 per minute, Choi remains a dangerous finisher with the ability to end fights in a flash. Why This Fight Is a Can’t-Miss Matchup When Landwehr and Choi step into the Octagon, expect nothing less than a war. The two fighters have a combined 21 knockouts  and nine performance bonuses , including four Fight of the Night awards. Both are known for their aggressive styles, willingness to engage in a firefight, and crowd-pleasing tendencies. Landwehr’s high-paced offense meets Choi’s knockout power in a matchup that could be over in the blink of an eye—or turn into a three-round battle for the ages. With Landwehr averaging 6.25 strikes landed per minute and absorbing 5.75, the action will be relentless. Meanwhile, Choi’s fights average just under eight minutes, proving he’s always on the hunt for the finish. The action kicks off live on PPV at 10 PM ET / 7 PM PT , with prelims starting at 8 PM ET / 5 PM PT . Landwehr and Choi open the main card with a bang, ensuring fans are glued to their screens from the start.

The wait is over! BRAVE Combat Federation is gearing up to welcome back one of its most electrifying stars, Lebanon’s own Rami Hamed. Known for his jaw-dropping knockouts and highlight-reel finishes, Hamed has signed a multi-fight deal with the world’s most global MMA promotion. Fans will witness his highly anticipated return at BRAVE CF 92 , taking place on December 15  at the iconic Khalifa Sports City in Bahrain. The Comeback Story Hamed’s return marks a defining chapter in his career. After parting ways with BRAVE CF during the pandemic following a submission loss to Issa Isakov, the Lebanese knockout artist has been on a relentless quest for redemption. And what a comeback it’s been! In his time away, Hamed has built an impeccable 5-0 record , dismantling opponents in spectacular fashion. Each finish has served as a chilling reminder of why he’s considered one of the most dangerous finishers in MMA today. Now, with his confidence at an all-time high, Hamed is ready to reestablish his dominance in the Super Welterweight division. Clash of Styles: Hamed vs. Orozakunov In his comeback fight, Hamed will face a formidable challenge in Salamat Orozakunov , a crafty grappler from Kyrgyzstan. Orozakunov’s ability to control the ground game has given many fighters nightmares, but his striking defense has shown cracks—most notably in a knockout loss to Eliezer Kubanza. This sets up an intriguing stylistic clash: Hamed’s lethal striking versus Orozakunov’s ground prowess. For Hamed, the path to victory is clear—keep the fight standing and unleash his striking arsenal. A decisive win here could put the entire division on notice. Eyes on the Prize: A Collision with King Kong? Rami Hamed isn’t just thinking about his upcoming opponent. His sights are set on Eliezer “King Kong” Kubanza , a rising force in the Super Welterweight division. Kubanza’s reputation as a dangerous contender makes him a tantalizing target, and a win over him could launch Hamed straight into title contention. Fans can already sense the fireworks this potential matchup promises. A Night of Stars and Rivalries Hamed’s return is just one piece of the excitement BRAVE CF 92 has in store. The event also marks the comeback of another Lebanese icon, Mohammed “The Latest” Fakhreddine , as he faces Algeria’s Abdel Rahmane Driai  in a Middleweight clash. Fakhreddine, a two-division champion, is on a mission to prove he’s still the top dog in his division. And if that wasn’t enough, India vs. Pakistan II  will take center stage, reigniting one of the fiercest rivalries in combat sports. Athletes from both nations will step into the cage to settle the score, ensuring an unforgettable night of action and national pride. Mark your calendars for December 15. With a stacked card featuring Rami Hamed’s return, Fakhreddine’s quest for dominance, and the electrifying India vs. Pakistan showdown, BRAVE CF 92  is set to deliver adrenaline-pumping action.

There’s a surprisingly long history of hair pulling in the annals of combat tactics, both sportive and on the battlefield. In this column, we’ll confine ourselves to sportive instances of what we now perceive to be unsportsmanlike behavior. Combat hair pulling — or pugna capillos trahens, if you’d like to gussy it up a bit with Latin — was permitted in more than a few organized endeavors through the years. And in some cases, it was out and out encouraged. Before we continue, if anyone doubts the efficacy of hair pulling in sportive combat, please stretch your memory back to UFC 3, specifically to the iconic match between the up-to-that-point mighty dominant Royce Gracie and the ponytailed behemoth that was Kimo Leopoldo. Gracie gamely took the win in that bout, but if anyone thinks that would have been the outcome had not that handy ponytail been available, I suggest a second look and a re-evaluation of opportunistic handles. The early Greeks prohibited hair pulling in pankration — except when it was permitted. That is, just as early boxing and wrestling went through negotiations for ad hoc rules — “This is in, but that ain’t!” — pankration seemed subject to rule bending and compromising. We’re told by Pausanias that the rules drifted a bit between regions, and Lucian refers to pankrationists being called “lions” by the fans not because of their leonine fighting nature but because of their propensity to bite, which was also prohibited. There are various mentions of hair pulling in combative accounts throughout history, but it’s not until the 16th and 17th centuries that we begin to see more and more citations. Now, whether this is because the practice increased or simply because inexpensive printing and rising literacy rates made available more accounts of combat clashes, we cannot say for sure. My guess is that it’s the latter: more scribblers to document a practice that was already in full bloom. Many English boxers in the 1700s sported shaved heads not for fashion’s sake but to remove the follicle handle. Jack Broughton, the father of the English school of boxing, drew up a set of rules in 1743 that noted no handles below the waist were permitted. However, no specific mention was made of hair pulling, and because we continued to see shaved pates in matches, we can surmise that it was still a tactic in play. We know for a fact that it continued as a gambit, for as late as 1795, Gentleman Jackson used a bit of hair control to gain the English championship from the formidable Daniel Mendoza. Across the pond in the young United States, fighting — both sportive and unsportive — was coin of the realm. What’s astonishing is just how vicious even the sportive aspects were. Organized matches of Frontier Rough and Tumble play, a form of all-in fighting, held few rules — hence, the descriptor “all in.” It meant anything goes, in all respects. We’re talking about an era when sporting a single eye because you lost the other to an eye scoop was regarded as a badge of honor, a time when suffering from “lumberjack’s smallpox” — bearing facial scars from being stomped by caulked boots — marked you as a man. References to hair pulling are frequent, and they indicate how vicious it could be. Never was an eye batted, which tells us that the tactic was not considered unsportsmanlike. Perhaps in an era when scalp taking was practiced by Native Americans and European interlopers alike, mere hair pulling seemed like a walk in the park. I discussed and demonstrated Rough and Tumble hair-pulling tactics in my book No Second Chance  and in my three-volume street-defense series. At the risk of being redundant, I’ll note the two most useful elements of the practice here: The hair can be used as a handle, but it’s better as a guide. By “guide,” I mean using the hair to twist and/or manipulate the head into a better striking position or force the opponent’s head and neck into an unnatural alignment intended to shut down his offense. Hair grows with a grain. The hair from the crown forward grows toward the forehead, while the hair from the crown downward grows toward the nape of the neck. Pulling or guiding the hair against the grain fires more pain receptors, thus permitting better control. It also makes for easier tearing — for hand scalping, so to speak. Clearly, human combat has long had a connection with hair pulling. However, nowhere but in Frontier Rough and Tumble will you find such an “unsportsmanlike” tactic embraced with such gusto.

Chris Weidman is no stranger to adversity. The former Middleweight Champion, once hailed as the man who toppled Anderson Silva and held the UFC title for an impressive 889 days, has had his share of ups and downs in his MMA career. Now, at UFC 310: Pantoja vs. Asakura, the 40-year-old fighter makes yet another return to the Octagon, this time against Eryk Anders, in what promises to be a pivotal matchup for both men. The Build-Up: Weidman’s Journey Back to Fighting Form Weidman’s story is one of resilience and determination. After a horrific leg break against Uriah Hall in 2021, many doubted whether “The All-American” would ever step back into the cage. But after two years of grueling rehab, documented in the ESPN film The Return , he silenced the skeptics by returning to action in 2023. While his comeback fight against Brad Tavares didn’t go as planned, Weidman rebounded with a hard-fought victory over Bruno Silva earlier this year, proving he still has plenty of fight left in him. Eryk Anders, meanwhile, is a dangerous opponent who brings his own brand of toughness to the Octagon. A former college football star turned MMA fighter, Anders has consistently tested himself against top-tier competition. With his knockout power and relentless pressure, Anders sees this fight as an opportunity to secure a significant win against a former champion. What’s at Stake? For Weidman, this fight is about more than just victory—it’s about legacy. With retirement looming on the horizon, the Long Island native is determined to leave the sport on his terms, ideally with a few more marquee wins under his belt. His performance against Anders could determine whether he gets one last shot at a top contender or rides off into the sunset. For Anders, the stakes are equally high. A victory over a fighter of Weidman’s caliber would not only elevate his profile but also position him for bigger opportunities in the middleweight division. Known for his durability and knockout power, Anders will look to exploit any vulnerabilities Weidman may show after years of wear and tear. What to Expect Weidman’s grappling and fight IQ remain among the best in the division, but Anders will likely test his striking and chin early. The key for Weidman will be to dictate the pace with his wrestling and avoid getting into prolonged striking exchanges. Anders, on the other hand, will look to land heavy shots and keep the fight standing. Weidman’s mental and physical state will be under the microscope. While his leg injury is behind him, the psychological toll of such an ordeal is hard to ignore. However, his last fight showed glimpses of his former self, particularly his ability to mix striking and grappling seamlessly. From dethroning Anderson Silva to overcoming personal and physical challenges, Chris Weidman's story is one of perseverance. As he steps into the Octagon once again, fans can expect a performance fueled by heart, grit, and an undying love for the sport. Catch all the action live on PPV, with prelims starting at 8 PM ET/5 PM PT and the main card kicking off at 10 PM ET/7 PM PT.

The heavyweight division is about to witness a seismic clash as Ciryl Gane and Alexander Volkov lock horns once again at UFC 310: Pantoja vs Asakura  on December 7, 2024, in Las Vegas. Their first meeting in June 2021 was a masterclass in striking, with Gane narrowly edging out Volkov via unanimous decision. Since then, both fighters have taken contrasting paths, battling through setbacks and triumphs to reclaim their positions as top contenders. Let’s break down how these two elite heavyweights have evolved since their first encounter and what makes their rematch one of the most anticipated bouts of the year. The First Encounter: Gane vs Volkov I When Gane and Volkov first faced off at UFC Fight Night in 2021, fans witnessed a highly technical battle of precision striking. Gane’s agility and tactical approach earned him a narrow victory, with both fighters showcasing incredible accuracy, landing over 110 significant strikes each. Despite Volkov’s resilience, Gane’s pace and control were enough to secure the unanimous decision. Ciryl Gane’s Journey Since 2021 The French superstar wasted no time climbing the ranks, capturing the interim heavyweight title by dismantling Derrick Lewis at UFC 265 . Gane’s undefeated streak, however, was snapped by Francis Ngannou at UFC 270  in a razor-thin decision where Ngannou’s grappling played the deciding role. Gane bounced back with a sensational TKO victory over Tai Tuivasa in front of a roaring Parisian crowd in 2022. However, his shot at undisputed gold against Jon Jones at UFC 285  ended abruptly, with Jones submitting him in the first round. Determined to rise again, Gane showcased his dominance with a Performance of the Night victory over Serghei Spivac in September 2023, reminding the division why he remains a force to be reckoned with. Alexander Volkov’s Ascent Volkov’s post-2021 journey has been marked by steady improvement and spectacular finishes. After defeating Marcin Tybura at UFC 267 , Volkov faced setbacks against Tom Aspinall but rebounded with stunning victories over Jairzinho Rozenstruik and Tai Tuivasa, the latter earning him his first UFC submission via Ezekiel choke. Most recently, Volkov secured a hard-fought decision win over Sergei Pavlovich at UFC Fight Night: Whittaker vs Aliskerov , cementing his position as the No. 3 contender. His current four-fight win streak highlights his evolution as a well-rounded heavyweight capable of both striking precision and grappling finesse. What’s at Stake in the Rematch? With both fighters positioned in the top three of the division, this rematch carries massive implications for the title picture. Gane’s fluid movement and pinpoint accuracy will once again clash with Volkov’s power and newfound grappling threats. Both men have grown significantly since their first meeting, setting the stage for a thrilling, high-stakes showdown. Don’t Miss UFC 310: Pantoja vs Asakura The T-Mobile Arena in Las Vegas is set to host one of the year’s most stacked cards, headlined by a flyweight title bout between champion Alexandre Pantoja and rising star Kyoji Asakura. With Ciryl Gane vs Alexander Volkov on the main card, the night promises action-packed drama. Prelims:  8 PM ET / 5 PM PT Main Card:  10 PM ET / 7 PM PT on Pay-Per-View Mark your calendars for December 7, 2024, and witness this heavyweight rematch unfold live!

In a blockbuster announcement, the UFC has confirmed that newcomer Kai Asakura will make his promotional debut against reigning Flyweight Champion Alexandre Pantoja in the main event of UFC 310: Pantoja vs. Asakura, set to take place on December 7, 2024, at the iconic T-Mobile Arena in Las Vegas, Nevada. This highly anticipated bout marks a historic crossover, as Asakura brings his explosive style and championship pedigree from RIZIN to the world's premier MMA organization. Kai Asakura: RIZIN’s Explosive Star Takes on the UFC Kai Asakura, a former two-time RIZIN Bantamweight Champion , enters the UFC with a remarkable professional record of 21-4 , boasting 16 finishes , including 13 knockouts and three submissions . Renowned for his striking precision and finishing ability, Asakura holds marquee victories over elite competition, including a win over current UFC No. 9 flyweight contender Manel Kape  and former UFC flyweight title challenger Kyoji Horiguchi . In his last RIZIN bout, the 30-year-old Tokyo native showcased his dominance by reclaiming his bantamweight title with a second-round finish of Juan Archuleta at RIZIN 45 . Shortly after, Asakura announced his decision to vacate his title and pursue new challenges in the UFC. Now, he faces the ultimate test in his debut: a shot at the flyweight title against one of the division’s most decorated champions. Alexandre Pantoja: A Dominant Reign Flyweight Champion Alexandre Pantoja  is in the prime of his career, riding a six-fight win streak  and holding an impressive 25-5 professional record . The Brazilian captured the belt in a thrilling contest against Brandon Moreno at UFC 290  and has since defended his title twice with unanimous decision victories over Brandon Royval  and Steve Erceg . Pantoja ranks third in UFC flyweight history for most wins (12), trailing only legends Demetrious Johnson and Joseph Benavidez. Known for his lethal grappling and well-rounded skill set, Pantoja has notched notable submission victories over Royval and Alex Perez, making him a formidable champion. UFC 310 Main Card Highlights The UFC 310 main card is stacked with thrilling matchups that promise an unforgettable night of fights: Main Event:  Alexandre Pantoja (c) vs. Kai Asakura – Flyweight Title Bout Shavkat Rakhmonov vs. Ian Machado Garry  – Welterweight Bout Ciryl Gane vs. Alexander Volkov  – Heavyweight Bout Bryce Mitchell vs. Kron Gracie  – Featherweight Bout Nate Landwehr vs. Dooho Choi  – Featherweight Bout The prelims start at 8 PM ET/5 PM PT , followed by the main card live on Pay-Per-View at 10 PM ET/7 PM PT .

As I sat in his immaculate living room, listening to the tale of Tim Tackett unfold from the mouth of the man himself, I couldn't help but note the parallels between his life and mine. Both of us started our martial arts journeys in the United States before going to Asia for non-martial arts reasons. Both of us, however, seized the opportunity to train as much as possible while in Asia. Both of us found that local masters were flattered that a foreigner had come so far because of his passion for the arts and subsequently were very giving. Both of us returned from Asia and built a career in the martial arts that did not involve teaching what we'd learned in the Far East. That's where the parallels end. Tackett's path led him to become a prominent jeet kune do teacher, while mine led me to become the editor of Black Belt . And that is why, as I sat on his sofa, Tim Tackett was doing 90 percent of the talking and I was happy to do 90 percent of the listening. Black Belt: Could you tell us how you got started in the martial arts and how Taiwan fit into it? Tim: I was always interested in World War II combatives when I was a kid. There was a chief of police here in Redlands, California, named Wesley Brown who had written a book on it, and I futzed around with that for a while. Because I was in the YMCA youth circus at the time, martial arts seemed natural to me. So you had an athletic background from the beginning? I did. Interestingly enough, Bob Bremer, whom I learned jeet kune do from, was also a trampoline guy. He taught Bruce Lee how to do backflips and stuff. That helps you know where your body is in space. What came next martial arts-wise? When I was 12 or 13, a judo guy started teaching at the Y, so I began training with him. Then nine months later, he moved, and we were left with no martial arts anywhere nearby. It was a lot different then, in 1952 or ’53, than it is now. Anyway, I finished high school and went to my first year of junior college, then joined the Air Force. First, I was stationed in Louisiana, where I met my wonderful wife of 57 years now, and then I was told that we were being sent to Taiwan. Was that a duty station you had requested because of martial arts? No. I actually got orders to go to Fairbanks, Alaska, but my wife was pregnant, so we got out of that. We went to Taiwan instead, where I worked on a national security base where they monitored Chinese broadcasts. I met a guy named Mr. Chung, who taught a martial art called kuo shu. I also learned hsing-i, white crane and some Southern Shaolin. Then I went to a local park and met an old man named Yuan Tao, a tai chi and hsing-i teacher who had been a guerrilla general. He accepted me as a student, so I started learning tai chi from him. He thought I learned it so well, in fact, that he made me his assistant instructor. Did that go over well with his students? Most people didn’t pay any attention to it. It wasn’t like when kung fu came here and all this “secret” nonsense started. Then another teacher in the park offered to teach me for nothing so that I would take his art to America, so I learned more Shaolin and some chin-na from him. I ended up working out maybe seven hours a day, six days a week — just doing martial arts. The reason I could train so much is my wife was working days teaching school while I was working swing shifts at the airbase, so I had all morning and most of the afternoons free. Because the Japanese were there for 50 years, many Taiwanese martial artists used belts. I ended up getting a second-degree black belt. Some instructors didn’t use belts. Under them, you were either an assistant instructor or a full instructor. So I also became a full instructor in the kuo shu association. When your tour of duty was over, did you return to California? Yes, and I started a school. In the meantime, I visited some other schools in the area — there still weren’t many. I went to a kung fu school here in Redlands. The instructor was actually upset that I was teaching. He said it was all supposed to be secret. I showed him a card from my teacher in Taiwan, and he ended up sending a letter to my teacher, asking why he had taught me so much. The next school I visited was Ed Parker’s. Later, some of my students fought in his tournaments. This was at the end of 1964 and the beginning of ’65. Parker had me show him what I’d learned in Taiwan, and then Dan Inosanto, Jim Greenwald and Steve Golden took me out to lunch. Dan Inosanto was a kenpo practitioner then, wasn’t he? Yes. And then I saw Bruce Lee in 1967, and I was impressed. I thought what he was doing was pretty interesting, but I didn’t have time to get into it because I was going to college and trying to run my school. In 1970 I graduated with a Master of Fine Arts degree and started teaching drama at Montclair High School. The first student I gave a black belt to was a guy named Bob Chapman. One day, we went to a tai chi school to check it out. I showed the instructor my tai chi, and he said he would take us as students. When we left, his assistant followed us out. He said, “Listen, you’re not going to learn anything from this guy — he feels threatened because you already know tai chi.” Then he asked, “You ever heard of jeet kune do?” I said, “Yeah, Bruce Lee’s thing.” And he said, “You know Dan Inosanto?” I said that I knew Dan pretty well. Then he said, “Here’s his unlisted phone number. If you’re interested in jeet kune do, give him a call.” So I called him up and Dan was like, “Timmy, come on down! It’s not too big a deal — bring some boxing gloves.” That could be ominous. (smiles) Bob Chapman and I went down to Dan’s backyard, where he had a little school. My first class there I fought full contact — against Bob Bremer and Daniel Lee. I didn’t do terribly bad, but I didn’t do that well, either. Once I started doing [JKD], I realized that it was so much better than what I knew. That’s when I began throwing away things that didn’t work. And you stayed with it. I just stayed with it. It became what I wanted to do. I never taught it commercially. The whole thing of it was, nobody was doing this stuff for a living. Bob Bremer was a crane operator. Jerry Poteet was a carpenter. Richard Bustillo worked for Continental Airlines. I was a schoolteacher. But I really enjoyed teaching JKD. I guess people started hearing about me because Mito Uyehara, founder of Black Belt  magazine, approached me and asked if I wanted to do a book on hsing-i. So I wrote a big book, which ended up getting cut in half and then they lost the second half. Years later, it was found and published, so I ended up being the author of volume one and two of that. Then I did some other books before coming back to my home at Black Belt  to write my two Chinatown Jeet Kune Do books. People started coming from Europe to train with me, and I would go there during the summer when I was off. Eventually, I retired from teaching high school and got tired of traveling. Basically, I retired from formal teaching — and was inducted into the Black Belt  Hall of fame. You have to retire to do that, I think. How important was training in Asia in your life? It was something special for me. What was really interesting was how open everybody was. They were worried their arts would die out and were happy I was going back to America to teach them. There was none of that nonsense I heard over here with the Chinese saying, “You can’t teach Caucasians.” In Taiwan, they would come up to me and offer to teach for free! I got into the respect that was always present in the martial arts community in Taiwan. When you met a teacher, you would do this and that. When you became a teacher, you didn’t call yourself sifu or print business cards that say “sifu.” You’re somebody else’s sifu, not your own sifu. Also, in Taiwan, there was no such thing as a master. There was only instructor and full instructor. Would you recommend to people that they spend time in Asia, if possible? Yeah … but I don’t know what it’s like now. I don’t know if it’s different. I don’t know if they still have all those fascinating martial arts because the world seems to have gotten [obsessed with] MMA and everybody talks smack about everybody else. Overall, what role do you think your experience as a schoolteacher had in your being able to convey the essence of JKD to your students? When I was teaching high school and later directing plays and stuff, I found that passing along information was very easy for me. Often at training events, Dan Inosanto would say, “You go ahead and do most of the talking here.” You had the ability to break down the material into something that’s appropriate for the age and experience of the student and then present it in a sequential and logical manner. Is that hard to find in the martial arts in general and JKD in particular? Some people might have trouble getting across their message because they can’t communicate well or they lack patience. It can be hard — either you can do it or you can’t. I don’t know if you can learn how to do it. I do know that the teacher-education courses I had to take were a bunch of nonsense. My seventh year of college was a waste. I didn’t learn anything in “teaching theory and practice.” Are there any things that jump out from your early days in the martial arts that, at this point in your life, make you say, “Why did I spend my time doing that? It’s not important. It wasn’t important then, but I thought it was.” One of my students, Mike Blesch, wrote an article on it, and we have it on our website ( jkdwednite.com ). It’s called “The JKD Filter.” It’s a way to look at techniques and say this is good and this is not so good. I don’t regret having learned anything because I eventually learned how to get rid of it. The process of throwing away is essential. Do any examples come to mind? There are a lot of stances and a lot of techniques. One of the problems I find in any art, even JKD, is that you start studying with a teacher and everything you learn is of great value at all times. Then you start working with a guy like Bob Bremer and find out that some things don’t work. That’s when I said, “Why am I doing stuff that doesn’t work against this particular thing?” For example — and I still teach this because I think everybody should learn it — in JKD you learn the progressive indirect attack. You throw a feint and then you maybe do a high finger jab and a low hook kick. At first, you go, “OK, that really works well against a blocker and a runner.” So it’s really cool, especially if you know your opponent’s a blocker or a runner. Then I tried to use it against Bob Bremer, whose idea was, as soon as you move, he does a stop-kick and then hits you. By the time I did my feint, I’d been hit. It made me wonder why I was doing that. If I tried a high feint against a Brazilian jiu-jitsu guy, I’d be on the ground. On the street, I would be foolish to try it. So I still teach it, but I break it down for my students: This is when you use it, and this is when you don’t use it. If I know the guy’s a blocker, hell, it works really well. However, if the guy’s a JKD practitioner, it doesn’t work. It wasn’t designed to work against JKD; it was designed to work against other arts. Does it take a certain level of experience and maturity in students to be able to learn something, to figure out how to do it well and then to realize that it might not be for every situation? Exactly. It’s very difficult. And it’s difficult to throw away stuff. When I started JKD, we would say, “What does this art do? How does this guy move? This is what I would do against somebody doing Thai boxing.” It was all what you would do against somebody who knows this and that. It was a constant analysis. If you go to a new school and start learning the art, you don’t necessarily buy the whole program, but you certainly should try to learn everything the guy’s teaching you. The problem is you don’t want to throw it away because it’s impolite. So you have to develop a process for yourself: Here’s what I learned, here’s how I’m going to test it against different opponents, and if it doesn’t work for me against certain opponents, it’s gone. A technique has got to work against anybody who’s unarmed. It all goes back to watching Bruce Lee in Longstreet — it’s all in there! To touch me, you have to move to me. To move to me, you have to give me your leg. That’s why Bob Bremer would do the leg obstruction. Then you have to ask yourself, “How do I attack somebody who intercepts?” Once you start figuring out ways to attack that kind of opponent, you have to test everything the same way. You have to be constantly thinking about what works against any opponent. You have to analyze everything. Is there a preferred way to avoid opening yourself to a counterattack? You have the advantage if you don’t attack, but then to function, you have to control the distance. If your opponent is too close to you, he has the advantage. If he’s far away, you’re not as vulnerable. What does that mean? You have to use footwork to control the distance so you can see the technique coming. This is why we work an awful lot with the hammer principle. Basically, it’s a move in which the opponent steps back and tries to attack by dropping his hand and coming at you, and you look at it and think, I can see that coming. You learn how to start getting ready on his preparation. Do it long enough and you’ll start to see his intention — and that goes back, again, to Longstreet. And then you find that you can intercept opponents almost before they move, but that takes a long time. So in the meantime, you just focus on doing a few things really well. The problem is — and [Jiddhu] Krishnamurti talked about all this stuff — you’re organizing. To get across his point, Krishnamurti would tell a story about the devil and his friend sitting on a hill when a guy comes walking down the street. The guy bends down to pick up something, and the devil’s friend asks, “What is that guy doing?” The devil says, “He picked up a piece of the truth.” The friend asks, “Aren’t you worried about that?” The devil says, “No, I’m going to let him organize it.” That’s what happens — you get organized despair because you have too much, learning this and learning that. Instead of throwing away, you’re constantly adding. A minute ago, you spoke about being vulnerable. Does JKD have an approach to confronting a grappler that minimizes your vulnerability? You have to be able to survive in any environment, so you have to learn grappling. The thing that drives me crazy is when people say, “I don’t need to learn any kind of grappling because I’m a stand-up guy who can outbox anyone,” but you never know if you’re going to slip and fall. You have to learn, even if you don’t want to be on the ground. It’s also a given that you have to learn how to get up no matter what. Let me tell you a story. One of the first really good grapplers I met was a judo champion in the Air Force. Once I saw him line up 10 good martial artists and have them attack. He took them all down except one guy. As soon as the judoka moved, the other martial artist would hit him in the head with a hard jab and move, hit him with a hard jab and move. The judo guy couldn’t touch him. So it depends on the person. But even a guy who’s so good at controlling distance and hitting can fall. Or he might be too close. He still should learn grappling. Do you think anybody is capable of learning a skill set so well that he or she can stop every takedown attempt? No. You can learn something so well that you have a good chance, but you don’t have a 100-percent chance. Versatility is the key to self-defense. One thing I’ve noticed is that in JKD, we work hard at hitting hard. That’s why we have our strong hand forward. However, some of the MMA guys I’ve worked with — well, even at 77 years old, I hit harder than they do! They don’t have that snap, that power, in their punch. For self-defense, you have to be able to knock a guy out. Bruce Lee told Bob Bremer that the best way to win a fight is to reach over and knock the person out. You need to have sledgehammers for hands. That’s one thing that’s lacking in the world of strikers. One of the problems JKD practitioners face involves the straight lead punch: If you twist your rear foot to put all your weight on your front leg and do that as an attack, you might be in deep doo-doo because it’s hard to recover. But if someone is stepping in on you and you use that technique, it can be a powerful thing. In our classes, we do a lot of drilling where a guy steps in with a focus glove and you hit them on the end of that. Then it’s two things coming together, which can generate an amazing amount of power. Once I had somebody say I couldn’t knock him out with one punch. So I had him hold a focus glove and step toward me, and then I hit the focus glove hard. He was quiet about it after that. (To be continued.)

Biceps, chamber, hip, point. Thrust, slash, cover. The rhythmic shouts come from a kali master instructor, and they’re echoed by hundreds of students who are mimicking his every move. It’s part of the training that’s taking place at the 2018 Martial Arts SuperShow in Las Vegas. In attendance are police officers, former SWAT team members, Special Forces operatives, U.S. Marines, and ordinary martial artists representing disciplines that range from krav maga and taekwondo to Brazilian jiu-jitsu to kung fu san soo. Men, women, and children from all walks of life have assembled in the Bellagio ballroom to learn pekiti tirsia kali from one of the most visible exponents of the art, a man named Apolo Ladra. Let your mind wander, and the clack of their kali sticks can evoke images from different eras and locales. Maybe the sound is the byproduct of Filipino farmers working their scythes in the field. Maybe it’s the noise of riflemen firing, reloading, and refiring across revolutionary battlefields. The strikes reverberate beyond the ballroom walls. They’re universal, all-encompassing, drawn from the pulse of an indigenous Filipino fighting art forged over hundreds of years. The resonance is material, and for the stick wielders, it’s spiritual. Ladra’s role is to serve as a bridge that spans centuries and continents. He’s out to inspire the next generation to learn pekiti tirsia as it was passed to him by the legendary Leo T. Gaje Jr. MULTIDIMENSIONAL The art of kali extends into the martial, mental, and cultural dimensions of human exertion. Its practicality derives from native arts adapted to intrusive circumstances. How to fend off an invader? How to adapt to his method of invasion? It’s arguable that no nation knows this dynamic like the Philippines, where the traditional culture has absorbed a barrage of foreign influences on everything from religion to commerce to combat. For centuries, incursions and occupations by the Spanish, Americans, and Japanese forced Filipinos to adapt, conceal, or face the eradication of their cultural expressions, including the martial arts. Essentially, Filipino warriors and the populations they were traditionally bound to defend found a way to unfetter themselves from foreign rule. One way, ironically, was to serve as the fighting force on Spanish galleons as they embarked on imperialistic tours of the South Pacific. The fighting style of the Filipinos was so foreign to the enemies of the Spanish that it couldn’t be defeated. Fast-forward 300 years. Because of their exposure in seminars and magazines, as well as online and in theaters, the Filipino martial arts are well-known to the masses. In fact, it’s easy to overlook how long they’ve been in the public eye. Bruce Lee wielded doble baston in Enter the Dragon  (1973). Jeff Speakman whirled makeshift escrima sticks in The Perfect Weapon  (1991). More recent flicks like the Jason Bourne series (starting in 2002) have featured intricately choreographed, lightning-quick, brutally satisfying kali scenes. In just a few decades, the Filipino arts have gone from underground to spectacle, and that’s put them on the radar of all martial artists. MASTERFUL No one represents the full dimensions of the art of the blade like Apolo Ladra, a Filipino native whose father was chief of police of the province of Batangas, birthplace of the balisong (butterfly knife). Ladra spent his youth in Baltimore, teaching taekwondo. Then he decided to return to his roots and dedicate his career to propagating the Filipino martial arts, which he learned from Gaje, inheritor of pekiti tirsia. Ladra expresses the art of kali with subtlety and immediacy — during the past two years, the master, now in his 50s, has fought in full-contact stick matches in the Philippines, wearing a fencer’s helmet as his only armor. In the hundreds of seminars he conducts yearly in the West, Ladra conveys a simple dictum: Learn to teach, teach to learn. To get a sense of the master’s devotion to the art, you need only talk to those he’s taught. For his students, pekiti tirsia represents the most effective, efficient, and all-encompassing martial art, an assertion they base on its physical as well as mental dimensions. Matthew “Dutch” Hemker holds a fourth-degree black belt in taekwondo and first degrees in krav maga, Shaolin kung fu, and the Marine Corps Martial Arts Program. He spent 10 years on active duty in the Corps and currently works as a contract trainer for the military. He teaches combat, survival, and self-defense through the Warrior Training Group in Hampstead, North Carolina. Hemker has trained with Ladra for three years, and kali has become the foundation of his personal and professional life. “When people ask me about martial arts, I ask them, ‘What are you trying to achieve?’” he says. “The answer comes in the most bare, direct terms: How do I defend myself against an attack?” Many consider krav maga the default no-nonsense martial arts approach to hand-to-hand engagement, but Hemker notes similarities between the Israeli system and the Filipino art. “Both krav maga and kali deal with tactical threats with a problem-solving mindset,” he says. “But kali delves into the side answers of self-defense.” In essence, kali can mesh with virtually any martial art. “The skill sets blend extremely well,” Hemker says. “It’s modular and scalable. I could train a civilian house mom with basic techniques or could scale up the level of aggressiveness for a soldier or law-enforcement officer training to survive being stabbed or bludgeoned out on the beat. In its depth and range, there’s nothing more effective than kali.” For soldiers and cops, such skills are not only practical but also essential to survival. In the United States alone, there were nearly 130,000 assaults with a knife or other cutting weapon in 2016. Assaults with weapons ranging from bare hands to blunt objects topped 230,000 that year. Officer Jeff David, who spent two decades on the Pembroke Pines, Florida, police force, teaches close-quarters combat at the Miami Dade College School of Justice. Like Hemker, he considers Ladra’s kali indispensable. “Six or seven years ago, I went to a friend who runs a martial arts school and said I was looking for someone who could teach effective baton skills,” David says. “He referred me to Apolo.” The class that Ladra put on emphasized hand-to-hand combat even though it was designed to use sticks. “A ton of people showed up, and we didn’t have enough sticks,” says David with a laugh. “[Apolo] adapted his teaching. We essentially learned a Filipino approach to upright grappling. It was amazing. It involved many of the techniques we use and teach [at the police academy], but Apolo taught us why they work. That why, that how, the mental approach — that’s the force of his teaching.” David’s interest in kali quickly progressed to sticks. “The biggest attraction for me, as a cop, was the baton,” he says. “[It’s] an incredible tool for grappling and control, with techniques that have been around a long time but forgotten. Locking up arms, doing takedowns, holding [perps] with the baton — it’s a lost art. Apolo’s bringing it back.” David also emphasizes Ladra’s absorption of multiple martial arts — hard styles, soft styles, striking, grappling — and his transmission of useful techniques in the context of kali. “The training I got in just six months was worth all the training I’d had in my 20-year career,” he says. “He simplifies everything. Cops can’t take a chance on doing anything fancy. Every patrol, every stop — it can be life or death. No time to mess around or get fancy.” OFFENSIVE Offense, counter-offense, re-counter-offense. Ladra’s kali is that simple. And that complex. “Fighting is only fun if it’s always my turn,” he says with a smile. “When I fight, it’s always my turn.” How does this translate? Quickness. A snap of the wrist, twitched twice or a hundred times, a fluent flurry of irrepressible offensive force, going, going until you win. That’s the central tenet of kali. No hesitation. No mental reservation. Leave the opponent no space or time to maneuver. Not for an inch, not for a microsecond. He’s sucked into the vacuum of your overwhelming attack. The kali approach is to hit him with the force of an avalanche but with total precision and subtle articulation. For Ladra, the fundamental principle is simple: Everything is offense. Attack, counterattack, re-counterattack. Re-counter, re-counter, re-counter as necessary. Even the sound of the word “at-TACK” expresses the action of the hands or sticks or blades. Attack is embedded even in every block and parry. There is no passive element in pekiti tirsia. FLOWING But kali is not crude. Although born of battles in jungles and alleys, on streets and ship decks and battlefields, it’s far from messy. One session with Ladra and it starts to feel ingrained: This is an art as refined as painting, as poetry. It’s that elusive air that, ironically, keeps its practitioners training toward a perfection that’s impossible to attain. It’s a pursuit. Kali fighters call it “flow.” “When you’ve moved through those thousands of simple moves, you start to find your flow,” Ladra says. “Flow is possibility, finding new patterns, new ways to move that come from your nerves versus your active brain. As you train, flow becomes natural, and kali fighters learn to feel, intercept, and return the flow of other fighters.” This isn’t at all mystical. Flow is the function of the muscular repetitions that are central to kali. It’s based on physical principles that were first noticed for their roles in different aspects of Filipino life, from farming to dancing to animal husbandry. Flow is defined as “the continuity of a kali fighter’s tactical execution of offense, counteroffense, and re-counteroffense.” This end result is movement without thought. You must learn to forget. As Gaje likes to say, “Forgetting is knowing.” Repetition, again, is fundamental. Kali training requires tens of thousands of repetitions of sequences that range from the simple to the subtly nuanced, from strikes with a single stick to blade disarms, joint locks, traps, and takedowns. REALISTIC Realism, in the sense of putting pressure on an opponent, is key to Ladra’s teaching method. In seminars he runs for karate and taekwondo schools around the world, consequences are central to the training. Getting hit with the point of a rubber knife, for instance, is less realistic than the jab of a blunt aluminum blade. The latter changes you physically and nervously. The realism extends to the drills. “In a practice setting, when you’re slashing and thrusting, you might stop just before the tip of the blade hits the target,” Ladra says. This results in rigidity, which can be lethal. Thousands of repetitions of a stunted strike mean that the strike will be stunted — and likely fall short when it counts. Instead, Ladra says, practice striking through the target. MOBILE Like so many elements of kali, the movements flow from instinctive, ingrained Filipino habits of work. Nothing demonstrates this better than the art’s footwork. “The closer you are to your opponent,” Ladra says, “the fewer angles they have on which to attack.” He teaches students to move in an open V-formation, one adopted from the way Filipino farmers spread rice seed from baskets held at the hip. “They do this for hours,” Ladra says. “Step in, strike (toss a handful of seed), step back and thrust (put the hand into the basket for more).” The circular motion opens a periphery of perception from which one can intercept multiple attacks. There’s another strategic aspect to the footwork and motions of the art. “The rice fields of the islands only come up to here,” Ladra says, placing his hand just below his chest. “So when a fighter in the fields makes a slash, he also moves down, below the stalks.” He disappears for an instant, and when he returns, it’s to slash again — from a new and unforeseen angle. SMOOTH Like in so many martial arts, the force, speed, and power of a kali strike don’t come from one muscle group or one motion. The torque generated by twisting hips combines with the muscles of the torso and arm to accelerate strikes with the stick. Think of the patterns available as the simple workings of a complex machine. You have gears in a piece of machinery, which turn and interact. You want them to turn smoothly; you don’t want them to grind, to stutter, to halt. “You say you don’t want to throw a wrench into the gears, right?” Ladra says. “We make smooth movements constantly. That’s how you generate speed — you make force and open up angles of attack. “When you mix the angles and lines, it’s like a web. Hence the idea of sinawali (weaving). In the spider’s web, there are openings, but we seal them through circular lines with the feet, the hands, the weapons. That takes away those gaps.” Think of old-school basket weaving. The Filipinos are famous for their woven wares, including traditional sleeping mats called banig. These are hand-woven by the manubanig — literally, a person who weaves banig — from dried sea grass that grows in the rice fields. How do the manubanig weave so precisely? Through the very method that’s been mentioned repeatedly here. It’s the same one used by all students who train in pekiti tirsia under Apolo Ladra. Apolo Ladra’s website is artofblade.com . Photography by Brandon Snider