In Cummins, the Potter Becomes the Clay

For Cummins, the trip was formative technically. But he’s contemplative and feels it meant something much larger to his fighting career.

“The cultural experience was the insane part,” Cummins says, his voice brimming with almost childlike enthusiasm. “No other overseas trip I’ve ever had with wrestling compared to it. Granted, I’ve mostly been to places like Azerbaijan and Bulgaria.”

As a wrestler, his trips to ramshackle former Soviet blocs -- witnessing the filthy, ripped mats, ever-present stench of stale sweat and general climate of desolation -- was a stark lesson on how and why these nations’ wrestlers had so much international success. There was nothing else for them, only Olympic gold or poverty. Similarly, in Rio, he was side-by-side with favela kids trying to fight out of insolvency.

“It was eye-opening for me. I’m still getting used to Orange County,” Cummins says with a chuckle.

Back in the O.C., Cummins’ preparation for Brown continues, splitting time between Mark Munoz’s Reign MMA and Rafael Cordeiro’s Kings MMA, where he has worked alongside Miller, Munoz, Renato “Babalu” Sobral, Fabricio Werdum, Krzysztof Soszynski and others. Notably absent is the original training partner who steered him toward MMA, Lawal, still on the mend from knee surgery.

The Character, The Criminal

As Parsons articulates, it’s not just the malleable, moldable nature of Cummins as a fighter that is so exciting. What really makes Cummins compelling is that he is a legitimately intriguing personality.

It’s not the lutteur-artiste duality that makes him compelling. In spite of that relationship being the most eye-grabbing, metaphorically satisfying angle with which to make copy, Cummins’ personality is not so easily distilled. From the moment you talk to him, he is congenial and intimate in a way that makes you feel like you have been friends for years. With Parsons’ other clients, Miller and Lawal, their fighting personas are amplifications of their personalities, which have a natural in-your-face component. Cummins is more difficult to pin down.

He seldom stops smiling and laughing in conversation but never approaches goofiness. He loves adventure sports, as well as Animal Collective and LCD Soundsystem. He talks about making butternut squash and ricotta ravioli and his love of the Food Network.

“I wasn’t sure what to make of Pat at first,” confesses Parsons. “I had an eye-opening experience when we were in Japan. We were out at a club, and Pat, who wasn’t drinking, was out-dancing Jason. The club was going crazy. He just has that energy.

“Take a guy like ‘The Rock,’ for example,” he continues. “I never really understood the hype. I get that he was supposed to be some kind of charismatic wrestler. Then, my wife saw him in a parking lot in Santa Monica. He didn’t even say anything, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. He just has that magnetism.”

Strange bedfellows they may make, but Cummins now lives with Miller. While Miller’s “Mayhem” persona can make others feel anxious, Cummins finds it reassuring and says he feels “more normal than ever” being around someone like Miller.

Cummins uses the phrase “fit in” a lot. He talks about “fitting in” with wrestlers and art students in school and now trying to “fit in” with MMA. It sounds odd, spoken so frankly, from a 30-year-old grown athlete.

“I told Ryan, ‘I can’t act like these guys. I don’t want to talk s--t like Mo. I can’t do a crazy dance routine. I don’t know if I’ll fit in with this. How are the things I’m interested in going to translate?’” says Cummins. “He told me, ‘People are going to respond to you. You’re the only guy I know like you.’”

Still, it’s more complicated than that. The words that are most often used to describe Cummins are “mellow” and “laid back,” yet no one I talk to fails to mention his “nasty streak” or “wild side.”

In May 2008, Cummins was arrested alongside fellow former Nittany Lion wrestler-turned-MMA fighter Eric Bradley as they were loading stolen property into a car. From December 2007 to May 2008, the pair burglarized seven local fraternities, stealing laptops, video games, televisions, cash and clothing.

They were charged with seven counts of burglary and 17 related counts. After confessing to their crimes and cooperating with local police, they expected probation. However, the prosecutor handling their case changed, and their verbal agreement was out the window. The case continues to drag on.

“Don’t worry, I love being awkward,” Cummins facetiously assures me when I broach the subject.

His father doubling as his high school principal, Cummins grew up a straight arrow in bucolic Pennsylvania. As a lifelong late bloomer, I wonder if this was not his version of late-stage teenage angst.

“Yeah, you know what? That’s right,” he says, as if I’d just given him a strategy for rationalization. “You know, I’m not that kind of guy. That’s not me. I think that was just my way to rebel.”

I wonder if I’m being melodramatic, thinking there might truly be a lawless part of Cummins’ personality, tailor-made for the cage. Or are seven frat burglaries in six months acceptable as a delayed teenage rebellion? Am I being prudish? I keep imagining him shoving frat tchotkes into a car trunk while listening to Animal Collective’s “Strawberry Jam.” Parsons is right: it is certainly compelling, even if it leaves me without the answers I crave.

It’s hard to imagine an athlete with his wrestling pedigree and natural aptitude failing at MMA, but crazier things have happened. Is 30 years old too old for a blue-chip prospect, given the youth movement in MMA? Will the public, which loves simple, black-and-white professional wrestling-style characters, be intrigued by someone who is genuinely intriguing?

I am hypnotized by the turn of the potter’s wheel, intrigued to find out what this clay becomes.