The Best Thing That Can Happen to a Fighter Is to Lose

This might ruffle a few of ya feathers, but I reckon we've started getting this one wrong.

Over the past few years, I've noticed a trend in the Australian MMA scene that's becoming harder and harder to ignore. Even before fighters turn pro, they're building a brand. They're chasing sponsors, putting together highlight reels, growing a social media following and trying to look like a UFC athlete before they've even had the chance to become one.

There’s nothing wrong with building a profile. That's part of the modern fight game. If you want to make a career out of this sport, you need people to know who you are.

But somewhere along the way, we've started treating amateur records like they're professional records. And that's where I think we’ve taken our eye off the ball.

Muay Thai has understood this for decades. Spend enough time around that community and you'll notice people rarely ask what your record is. They ask how many fights you've had. Experience is the currency. Fifty fights at 30-20 often carries more respect than 10-0, because everyone understands that time in the ring against quality opposition is what actually develops a fighter.

The amateur system doesn’t exist to develop your brand from the outside in. It's there to develop you as a fighter from the inside out. It’s a proving ground, where opportunity is earned through performance, not promised by reputation. Where young aspiring athletes prove to themselves, and their coaches, that growth (not the result) is what justifies the sacrifice.

In Australian MMA I watch teams being overly selective with match-ups, trying to preserve that shiny undefeated record. The thinking seems to be that 8-0 as an amateur somehow means more than 5-3. Personally, I'd rather see the bloke who's gone 5-3 against the toughest opposition available than someone who's cruised to an unbeaten record without ever being tested.

Because here's the reality - every professional fighter loses.

Buddy, if you haven't learned how to deal with that before the stakes get higher, you're in for a rough ride. The best thing that can happen to an amateur isn't always getting their hand raised. Sometimes it's getting exposed.

Maybe your wrestling wasn't good enough. Maybe your gas tank emptied after two rounds because you blew your load walking out to 50 Cent's Many Men. Maybe you got caught because you spent too much of camp working combos for instagram, rather than defence fundamentals. Good. Now you know, bro.

A win can hide those things.

A loss shines a spotlight on them.

As a commentator, I've called enough fights to know the athletes who go the furthest usually aren't the ones who had the perfect run as amateurs. They're the ones who got tested early, came back to the gym on Monday and fixed the problems.

That's where real confidence comes from. Not from believing you're unbeatable, but from knowing you can get knocked down, learn the lesson and front up again.

And I think coaches carry a huge responsibility here.

Yes, our job is to help athletes win fights. But if that's all we're doing, I reckon we're selling them short. A coach should be developing people first and fighters second.

Martial arts has always been bigger than the result on the scorecards. It's supposed to teach discipline, humility, resilience and accountability. Those qualities don't magically appear after a string of easy wins. They're forged when someone has a bad night, has to swallow their pride and decides to keep turning up anyway. Sometimes, it’s developed with a kick up the arse, a slap in the corner, a complimentary glass of harden the you know what.

That's why I worry when I see coaches protecting records like they a pair of porcelain nuts instead of building fighters. An amateur loss shouldn't be viewed as damage to a career. It should be viewed as an investment in one.

Because when that first professional loss comes (and for almost everyone it does) it won't just test their skills. It'll test who they are when they lay down at night with the lights off.

And that's a fight no record can prepare you for.

Maybe that's the conversation we need to start having in Australian MMA. We could borrow a page from Muay Thai. Stop asking what an amateur's record is and start asking how many fights they've had, who they've shared the cage with and, most importantly, what they've learned from it.

The amateur system exists for a reason. It's the one stage of a fighter's career where the result matters the least and the lessons matter the most.

So let's stop treating amateur records like they're made of glass.

Let these young fighters take hard fights. Let them make mistakes. Let them lose.

Because the goal isn't to build the best amateur in the country, for he’s is only the tallest of the midgets.

The goal is to build the best professional, and more importantly, the best human being, they can become. That is to stand amongst Giants. 

Matt Bones