My Country, My UFC
After last night’s cage fights on the White House lawn, roughly timed to the 250th anniversary of our nation’s founding but exactly timed to the 80th birthday of President Donald Trump, it’s safe to say that celebrations of the semi-quincentennial are not unfolding in ways that inspire patriotism. Things first started falling apart last month, when the planned Great American State Fair saw most of its musical acts withdraw — except for Vanilla Ice, who told TMZ he would play in Iran if anyone asked, and Milli Vanilli, who seemed unaware they had been booked. Milli Vanilli and Vanilla Ice is a bad idea for a comedy sketch, much less a national observance, and on Truth Social an irritated President Trump suggested that maybe we should just cancel the whole thing, offering to headline an America Is Back rally in place of “these highly paid, Third Rate ‘Artists’” [sic, for both capitalization and payment]. The state of our nation two and a half centuries in seemed neatly summarized by these events, which made clear that one party had fully captured ostensibly nonpartisan operations of the United States government but left open the question of whether it could do the job.
Private industry, however, continued apace. By Thursday, the Ultimate Fighting Championship had assembled its octagonal ring and massive lighting and camera rig — known as “the Claw” — on the White House lawn in preparation for UFC Freedom 250, bringing prizefighting to the People’s House for the first time in history. This milestone, which may wind up being the centerpiece of the anniversary commemorations, distinctly did not nourish the sensation that America was doing great and getting better all the time.
In the weeks before the fights, photos of the arena going up near the wreckage of the East Wing provoked outrage from Americans who did not follow combat sports but had seen Idiocracy. Reuters reported that only 16 percent of poll respondents thought the idea was appropriate. A lawsuit that tried to stop the fights argued that the Trump administration — and the president himself, who purchased stock in the UFC’s holding company while the show was being planned — had improperly made the White House the venue for “a private, for-profit sports event, with all the promotional and branding opportunities that accompany such access.” This suit raised the previously unconsidered question of whether the tenant of America’s nicest rental property was allowed to sublet.
I chose to regard these events as funny, because the alternative — lamenting this administration’s naked corruption, the apparently bottomless gullibility and/or meanness of the Americans who still support it, and the damage both are doing to the nation — has become as trite as it is depressing. Also, I really wanted to see Derrick “the Black Beast” Lewis punch Josh Hokit in the face in one of the heavyweight bouts.
Normally, I do not mention my interest in combat sports to people who read. I feel about the UFC the way I feel about the United States: I love it, but I am embarrassed by the fans. Like the self-described patriot, the average viewer of “ultimate fighting” is likely to be louder than me on a subject he knows less about; I don’t want outsiders to mistake us for the same kind of person. And just as I feel the need to disavow certain wars in the presence of Canadians, I often feel compelled to acknowledge that the UFC and its fan base can be crass and atavistic. Every time I do both, I feel just a little bit phony.
Like the U.S. government, the UFC is a supposedly nonpartisan organization that lately has been carried away by certain social and political tendencies. CEO and president Dana White, who in May told the “Breakfast Club” podcast, “I’m not an overly political person,” spoke at the Republican National Convention in 2024 and has called Trump “one of my very, very good friends.” A number of fighters on the UFC roster have positioned themselves on the political right: before retiring in May, welterweight Colby Covington wore a MAGA hat to press conferences;........
