The very first event was a weird, wild experiment. It wasn’t called UFC 1; it was literally just “The Ultimate Fighting Championship.” They wanted to answer one question: Which martial art is the best?
The rules were almost nonexistent. No weight classes. No rounds. No gloves (at first). They had a guy in a karate gi fighting a sumo wrestler. It was chaos. And it was glorious.
That first night lasted just one night. The winner? A scrawny-looking Brazilian named Royce Gracie. He weighed 170 pounds and wore a white gi. He submitted three much bigger guys. Magic.
The Dark Ages (1994-2000)
For the next few years, the UFC was a bloody, messy toddler. It was banned in most states. Politicians called it “human cockfighting.” Senator John McCain was the ultimate hater. He led a crusade to kill it.
Events were held in tiny venues. One event in 1996 took place in Dothan, Alabama, at a civic center. The crowd was maybe 3,000 people. The sport was bleeding money and credibility.
But the fighters kept showing up. They were insane, but they were dedicated. They fought in cage-like pens. The referees wore ties. Yes, ties. Look it up. It’s hilarious.
