Fickett, McKee Slated for Lightweight Title Bout at MFC 28

Drew Fickett | Jeff Sherwood/Sherdog.com

Former UFC talent Drew Fickett has signed a multi-fight contract with Canadian promotion Maximum Fighting Championship and will debut at MFC 28 “Supremacy,” squaring off with champion Antonio McKee for the MFC lightweight title.

The promotion on Wednesday announced the signing of Fickett, and Sherdog.com has confirmed with sources close to the fight that McKee will be his first opponent. The bout is expected to be officially announced shortly.

The event -- which goes down Feb. 25 at the River Cree Resort and Casino in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada -- will be headlined by a bout between Ryan Jimmo and Dwayne Lewis for the vacant MFC light heavyweight title.

Fickett has been fighting since 1999 and holds a career mark of 40-13, including 29 victories by way of submission. The 31-year-old made his UFC debut in 2005, losing to Nick Diaz by technical knockout. The Southwest MMA product would go on to have a relatively successful career in the Octagon, however, earning a 4-3 record with the promotion before moving on in 2007.

After losing seven of eight fights between 2008 and 2009, Fickett experienced a resurgence in 2010. The “Night Rider” won four consecutive bouts last year, three of which came during Shine Fights’ eight-man lightweight grand prix in September. To win the tournament, Fickett submitted Charles Bennett, Dennis Bermudez and Carlo Prater in a single night, all inside of the first round.

“No one can beat me now,” Fickett said in a press release. “Mentally, I burned out and I didn’t really want to fight. Now I have a renewed passion for the sport and I have a re-invigorated spirit. I’m going to choke people out and people are going to get hurt. I’m coming to the MFC and I’m going to win the belt. It’s going to be awesome.”

McKee was recently released by the UFC after his first Octagon outing resulted in a defeat at the hands of Jacob Volkmann at UFC 125. McKee will now compete less than a month after his first loss in nearly eight years. The 40-year-old judo brown belt holds notable victories over Mike Dolce, Luciano Azevedo and Prater, and owns 18 of his 25 career victories by decision.

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The World According to Antonio McKee

“I represent the truth and I’m coming. All y’all can run and hide, but I’ve got the 155-pound division shook up. They’re worried." When compared to fighters like Wanderlei Silva and Chuck Liddell, you wouldn’t be out of place if you called Antonio McKee a pacifist. Oddly enough, he might agree with you, as he gives you little reason to suspect otherwise, both in his words and actions.

A married father of three, McKee – who makes his UFC debut this Saturday night against Jacob “Christmas” Volkmann – boasts 18 decision wins on his 25-3-2 record, and it’s a statistic he doesn’t shy away from. For him, mixed martial arts isn’t about hurting his opponents; it’s about winning, and if he can do so without inflicting harm on his foes, all the better.

“You know what – it’s not exciting to watch,” he says, referring to his fighting style. “You know why? Because I dominate. It’s like GSP (Georges St-Pierre) – he dominates. There’s just no way to be exciting when you win the same way over and over. People complained about Mike Tyson knocking people out. I guess if you’re in business you have to deal with the people, the mass media, and how they see things. But as far as me, man, I’m just out here trying to do it, have some fun and keep everybody happy. I’m a smart fighter. You put me in a street fight and I’ll street fight. But if I can outwrestle you and outslick you and out technique you, you’d best believe that’s what I’m gonna use.”

It’s worked for him over the last 11 years, and when you win 25 of 30 pro bouts, you must be doing something right. So why has it taken so long to see the Dayton, Ohio native gracing the Octagon?

“They had to soften me up a little bit,” he chuckles. “I was too hard in the beginning. I’m like a glass of wine; I get better with age. And I think it’s quite apparent - the things that I’ve been saying and how outspoken I’ve been - it’s realistic, it’s what’s really going on. If you say you’re the best, and you have the best fighters in the world, then you need McKee there because McKee is the best 155 pounder in the world. And a lot of people want to see it - they want me to shut up and get out of there or they want me to get what’s due and the titles to come.”

But in an ironic twist, it was the other side of Antonio McKee that finally got him his call to the big show. Since August of 2003, the only blemish on McKee’s record was a draw against Akbarh Arreola in a 2004 bout in Mexico, and through 2009, he had won nine in a row, including victories over Ronald Jhun, Mike Dolce, Derrick Noble, and Carlo Prater. As 2010 dawned, he knew the only think keeping him from the UFC was a display of his finishing skills. In March he submitted Rodrigo Ruiz via kimura. Then came a September bout against Luciano Azevedo. The pre-fight buildup became heated on both sides, with McKee declaring that he would retire if he didn’t finish his foe.

He lived up to his vow to finish, halting Azevedo with a brutal ground and pound attack in the first round. The pacifist had left the building.

“We had a personal beef,” explains McKee. “He called me old, senile, senior citizen, and when you piss me off, now you’re dealing with a different element. I don’t care what man is on this planet, if I can touch him, he will have a problem if we are going at it like that. I’m very quiet, I’m very passionate about what I do, I don’t go around boasting and bragging about what I do, and I’m really a pretty mellow guy to those who know me. Now if you cross my path and want to bring me some problems, you’d better be ready to deal with it. I ain’t trying to be Billy Badass, but I’ve been through wars, man. I’ve been shot at, I’ve been stabbed, I’ve seen it already, so what are you gonna bring to me? I hope you’re ready for what I’m gonna bring back, and that’s what Azevedo did – he brought a war. That man said some mean s**t about me, and for him to be a fighter, I thought he had no respect so I had to teach him a lesson – I had to punish him, and that’s what I did. And I’d do it a thousand times again if I had to, just to show him discipline.”

This paradox makes McKee one of the most fascinating figures in the fight game today, and whether you care for his style or not, his personality will compel you to watch him and listen to him. And it’s easy to respect where he’s coming from, because he comes from a background where violence surrounded him every day. Now, as a settled and well-adjusted adult, he’s not looking to return to that environment or mindset.

“I used to collect money for bad people,” he explains. “But I didn’t realize they were bad people because I was caught up in the mix of that bad. I was raised in that. No excuse now, but it was an excuse back then because I didn’t have the mentor that I am to these other kids that are out there who are exposed to that now. The UFC should be pushing for me to be the champion. Why? Because Antonio McKee is truly a champion. Not just in the ring, but outside. Do you hear any stories about me spitting on somebody or running somebody off the road or using steroids or drugs? No, what you hear about McKee is that he’s talking smack. That’s it.  But what do you see McKee doing? McKee is out here in the streets, he’s really putting down some stuff for these at-risk kids. He feeds the community, he goes to the neighborhoods and has a non-profit program – this is what you want as a champion in America, you would think. I may be wrong, but I’m the people’s champion.”

The 40-year old isn’t afraid to put his money where his mouth is either. In addition to his fighting career and the gym he owns (Bodyshop Fitness), he’s the founder of a non-profit organization named Fight for Kids, a varsity wrestling coach at Long Beach Polytechnic High School, and the Warriors Challenge Tournament Director. He’s hands on in all aspects of his life, and has made a complete 180 degree turn from where he was growing up.

“I lacked discipline, I lacked home training, I lacked stability, and as I got older and realized what I was lacking, I was able to make those adjustments,” he said. “And once I made those adjustments, everything fell into place.”

He chuckles.

“20 years ago, you might want to lock your doors if you just heard I was in the neighborhood. That guy doesn’t exist anymore.”

The turning point was a simple, yet profound one.

“When that baby came out and said ‘daddy,’” said McKee, referring to the birth of his son AJ. “And I didn’t have that myself to understand it, but I said ‘wait a minute, this feels so good. This little man is saying ‘daddy.’ Are you serious? I’m a father.’ It stuck to me. McKee turned in his street credits and decided that he was gonna do the right thing.”

He hasn’t turned back, and with the help of wrestling (he was a two-time California Community College state wrestling champion), mixed martial arts, family, and his work in the community, he’s made it to this point in his life. But back to Azevedo and the fight that unleashed the beast in McKee. What was the aftermath like for someone who had to reconcile his feelings about hurting his opponents with the bloody finish of his last fight?

“I went back there, I embraced him (Azevedo), I went to church, I prayed, I prayed for him to heal and that his career prospers,” he said. “There’s a certain level of respect that I’m gonna demand, I don’t care who you are. I always respect those who respect me and I will have nothing but respect for them. But when you come in here talking a big talk, you better be ready to walk that talk, because I’m gonna bring it.”

Which brings us to Saturday night and McKee’s first UFC bout against former Division I wrestler Volkmann. It’s an interesting clash that will open up UFC 125 at the MGM Grand Garden Arena in Las Vegas.

“I don’t talk smack about ‘Christmas,’” said McKee. “I think he’s an awesome guy, I think he’s a great fighter, but damn, you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s the way I see this.”

So which Antonio McKee is showing up this weekend?

“I pray and I ask God to give me some more submissions because I’m tired of laying in people’s faces,” he said. “That’s just not what I want out of this sport. But if that don’t get me paid and take care of my family before I’ve got to hit the streets again, you’d best believe people’s faces are gonna get busted up. And I’m gonna hold their hands after the fight, apologize, and I’m gonna offer them to go to church with me.”

“I use this phrase,” he continues, explaining his philosophy on fighting. “So you love the fight, right? How would you love it if it was your son out there getting beat up or knocked out? How would you feel if it was your cousin or someone you could relate to? All of a sudden, you don’t like the sport because it’s someone you love. I love people so I don’t like it when I see people getting hurt like that. I have a very passionate view on the sport and on the guys that are fighting. I’ve worked with a lot of the guys who are in the UFC, I’ve helped these guys, and now it’s my time. I sacrificed a lot to get where I’m at, I’m there now, and let’s see how this plays out. I’m real curious to see how it plays out and if these guys are really good enough to beat me or if I’m as good as I think I am. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain.”

It is still a hurt business though. So why do it?

“I do it because I’m good at it,” said McKee. “I don’t get knocked out, I don’t get hit, I don’t get beat up. And that’s why I do it. And the day I’m getting knocked out five or six times, I’m done. There’s no need for me to do this anymore.”

In 30 professional fights, McKee has been knocked out once, submitted once, and decisioned once. Take away two draws, and he has won every other fight he has engaged in. At 40, he’s in better shape than most people ten years younger, and with an 11 fight winning streak under his belt, he may be in the midst of a Randy Couture-esque prime.

Now it’s time to show the UFC what Antonio McKee is all about.

“I represent the truth and I’m coming,” he said. “All y’all can run and hide, but I’ve got the 155-pound division shook up. They’re worried. Frankie Edgar, Gray Maynard, all these guys, they know who I am. As much as I love Volkmann, this is the year that I won’t be celebrating “Christmas.” I think I’m gonna be the Grinch that beat up “Christmas”. I’ve studied him, he’s a great guy, but I’ve got to show the UFC who Antonio McKee is and what I’m about. This is business.”

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The Many Layers of Antonio McKee

Antonio McKee | Dave Mandel/Sherdog.com

LONG BEACH, Calif. -- Antonio McKee is a man of contradictions.

A boy brought up amidst poverty and violence has grown into a man with an entrepreneurial instinct and comfortable lifestyle. A boisterous personality in front of the camera, McKee is a markedly different individual behind the scenes. Perhaps most strikingly, he is an athlete keenly aware of the style of fighting which sells tickets, yet one who has developed a reputation for one of the most conservative, inactive styles in the sport.

When you meet Antonio McKee, there is no shortage of initial bluster. The camera or tape recorder goes on, and he enters into full self-promotion mode.

“I’m going to take them out one at a time,” McKee says of the lightweight division within the first five minutes of conversation. “Who’s going to beat McKee at 155? Only way I lose is if I’m not in shape or I get caught. Whose wrestling is better than mine? Gray Maynard? [Jacob] Volkmann? I’m going to make Volkmann look like nothing. We thought Volkmann could wrestle. Volkmann can’t wrestle.”

McKee often speaks of himself in the third person. And, as if his boasts are not bold enough, McKee ups the ante in short order.

“I feel like I’m the Muhammad Ali of MMA,” he says. “I feel like I’m the Don King of MMA. I feel like I’m the Tupac Shakur of MMA. I’m the mouth, the talent, the brains, and I’m also the business side. Where does that put me? That puts me as one of the all-time greatest black mixed martial arts fighters.”

This is Antonio McKee in a sense: brash, cocky, an aggressive self-promoter. But dig a little deeper, and it is not Antonio McKee at all.

Over the course of a two-hour conversation, McKee discusses his philosophy on fighting and his take on the business of MMA. He delves into the realms of political science and history. By the end, a completely different McKee emerges. He is relaxed, and the bluster has vanished.

Meili, McKee’s quiet young daughter, falls asleep on his lap. The news is muted on the flat-screen television. The family’s pet rabbit, Sassy B., hops around the room. McKee, after a life of turmoil and violence, seems at peace.

“A lot of times when people interview me, they provoke me to say the things that I say,” McKee admits, “and I know they’re doing it, so I play the game. That’s why I’m one of the most interviewed fighters in the game. I create controversy, and controversy sells.”

McKee will make his Octagon
Debut against Volkmann (above).Self-awareness is not a trait McKee lacks.

A turbulent childhood shaped him. As his mother struggled with drug addiction, McKee had to take care of himself. He was surrounded by gangsters and drug dealers. A victim of molestation, McKee built up an inner anger that frequently raged to the surface. It is a past he is willing to discuss but only on the surface.

As a teenager, McKee found himself in and out of jail; it was wrestling that turned around his life. McKee began devoting large chunks of his free time to wrestling and excelled at the sport. Initially, his anger was still there. He got into fights during wrestling meets, but, over time, he matured.

McKee developed business interests and suppressed his inner anger. By the time he entered into MMA, he was a different person. Fighting was not an outlet for violence but rather a path to greater security. In addition to his fighting career, McKee engaged in a variety of entrepreneurial ventures. He opened a security company and a gym. He invested in real estate.

Today, McKee lives in Long Beach, not far from the dangerous territory where he grew up. However, he now resides in a nice neighborhood, with an apartment near the ocean. Identification is required not only to enter his luxury apartment building but also to use the elevator. His apartment has the polished and well-kept look of a white-collar professional.

It is the classic American story of a kid from a rough background making good. Ironically, as a fighter, McKee has been criticized for essentially not being violent enough.

MMA is a violent sport -- an inescapable reality for anyone who follows it closely but particularly obvious to the participants. That truth is even more striking to a competitor who has spent much of his life trying to move away from violence.

“Is there someone you love?” McKee asks, rhetorically. “Let’s say they’re a fighter and they’re going to face [Quinton] ‘Rampage’ [Jackson] or Chuck Liddell. When you’re watching that guy knock your loved one out, split them open, choke them unconscious, how does that make you feel as a person?

“All of a sudden you have feelings, because that’s someone you care about. Well, I care about the safety of all fighters,” he adds. “I don’t want to beat a person up to where they’re split open, because somebody loves that person. [Luciano] Azevedo got staples in his head. He’ll never be able to take that scar away, and he was just working, trying to make some money. It hurts me to do that to people, but I can see what the crowd wants.”

Pleasing the crowd has not been a hallmark of McKee’s MMA career.

In early 2010, at nearly 40 years of age, McKee recognized that his window of opportunity in the sport was rapidly closing. He had not lost since 2003, but the UFC wasn’t calling. McKee had developed a reputation as a fighter who would take down his opponents, hold them there and secure safe decision wins.

McKee fights at 155 pounds, a division where speed, reflexes and conditioning are of paramount importance. Once-dominant fighters such as Jens Pulver, Yves Edwards and Rumina Sato have faded at young ages; it is not the domain of the older man.

I feel like I’m
the Muhammad Ali
of MMA ... I’m
the mouth, the
talent, the brains,
and I’m also the
business side. McKee needed to make his move, but it might not have happened had it not been for an unlikely motivator. Guy Mezger got under McKee’s skin.

Mezger, the fighter-turned-commentator for HDNet, called McKee’s fights in Canada’s Maximum Fighting Championship and directed pointed criticisms at McKee’s style of fighting. McKee was accustomed to fans’ denigration, but it was jarring to hear it coming from someone who was supposed to be generating interest in his fights.

“He said the truth, but it wasn’t the fact he said the truth. It was the way he said it. As a professional spokesman for a show, I thought your job would be to uplift me as a fighter and make me sound good,” McKee says. “As a commentator, I didn’t understand the negativity he was putting out on a fighter. I’ve never once heard the UFC do something like that. But, Guy Mezger saying what he said made me realize what I needed to do.”

Following victories over Carlo Prater and Derrick Noble in 2009, McKee asked UFC matchmaker Joe Silva what the UFC wanted to see from him in order to eventually be given an opportunity with the organization. Silva told him to finish some fights. In turn, McKee recorded a first-round submission of Rodrigo Ruiz in his next outing. He went a step further for the following bout.

Page Two: An Answer Approaches

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