The Maine-iac: A Sherdog Retrospective

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Patrick Wyman: It might be hard to imagine now, glancing at photos of a puffy, out-of-shape fighter who was denied a license to fight by the tribal athletic commission at the Mohegan Sun Arena, but Tim Sylvia was once one of the best heavyweights on the face of the planet.

Was he the best heavyweight in the world in his prime? No. That honor belonged to Fedor Emelianenko, who was fighting in Pride while Sylvia was beating the likes of Ricco Rodriguez, Gan McGee, Tra Telligman, Jeff Monson, and of course his “bitter rival” Andrei Arlovski in the UFC. That was a dark period for the heavyweight division of today’s preeminent promotion, but it is a simple fact.

Was Sylvia a particularly exciting fighter? No. He tended to work behind a long jab, low kicks, and the occasional high kick, and he stuffed takedowns pretty well. That was essentially his game, a functional collection of skills without much nuance or flash.

He was not the best in the world, and he was not the kind of fighter who will be fondly remembered by future generations for his highlight reel. Tim Sylvia was, however, a very good fighter with an effective game tailored to his physical dimensions, and most importantly, he was the UFC heavyweight champion. He beat almost everyone the promotion put in front of him, and when the opportunity arose to fight better competition, he took it.

Remembering fighters like Tim Sylvia does not feel as rewarding as looking back at the Fedors or the Georges St. Pierres of the world, but there are many more Tim Sylvias – relatively unathletic but nevertheless successful fighters who maximized their gifts – than freakish generational talents. Those fighters, too, deserve to be memorialized by the people for whom they spilled their blood, sweat, and tears. Whatever may have happened at the end of his career, we owe Sylvia that much.

Zach Arnold: In today's era, Tim Sylvia would have been viewed by casual UFC fans as a nobody and a guy who didn't care enough to look like so many of the overly-tanned and tattooed muscleheads that we have been conditioned to expect as “normal.” In the era where Sylvia ruled the heavyweight roost, however, he was a perfectly imperfect champion during a time in which UFC was making the transition from spectacle to pseudo-sport.

Tim came to fight every time. He was never afraid to risk embarrassing himself if it meant an opportunity to do what he loved doing best and often surprising so many by accomplishing as much as he did. There is a lot of pressure on fighters to not only be colorful characters but to also be polished in the press, doing and saying the right things. Tim was true to himself and true to the sport that he loved. It made him a uniquely maddening yet appealing character in the modern history of UFC heavyweight fighting. Between wearing his title belt everywhere in public and feuding with Andrei Arlovski over a girlfriend, I will forever have a soft spot for the guy as an MMA lifer.

Tristen Critchfield: Tim Sylvia was by no means a great athlete, probably not even a good one. Hell, Pat Miletich once told Bloody Elbow that Sylvia couldn’t even jump rope without bursting into tears upon his arrival in Bettendorf, Iowa.

Yet somehow, that same uncoordinated, 6-foot-8 behemoth carved out a lasting niche in mixed martial arts largest organization. More improbably, he won a title. Will Sylvia be remembered as one of the greatest heavyweights of all time? Probably not -- but the fact that his recent retirement elicited as much reaction as it did is a testament to his ability to squeeze the most out of his God-given abilities, or lack thereof.

I’ll remember Sylvia because his rise to prominence came at just the right time.

His UFC trilogy with Andrei Arlovski happened to occur when the sport first began receiving mainstream attention due to the introduction of “The Ultimate Fighter.” For some, Sylvia-Arlovski was the biggest and best thing going . Never mind how incorrect that notion may have been, especially considering the talented stable of heavyweights still punching the clock in Pride.

Perception is everything, which is why the fourth meeting between the two men in August 2012, despite the fact that it occurred on another continent in another time zone in another, less-celebrated organization, still conjured feelings of warm nostalgia. For a few ill-conceived moments, there was even talk of putting together a fifth bout. Thankfully, more rational minds prevailed.

Today, Arlovski is experiencing a career renaissance in the UFC. Sylvia, heavier than he probably should be and older than most of us thought, has been left to transition to the next phase of his life. Most combat sports athletes don’t make graceful exits, and Sylvia is no exception. The fact that he accomplished as much as he did is remarkable enough.

Dave Mandel: When you talk about the defining moments of Tim Sylvia’s fight career, his UFC trilogy with Andrei Arlovski sits high atop that list. They fought three times in less than 18 months, and once more six years later in One FC, long after their rivalry burned out at MMA's highest levels.

They would spend years after trading barbs on message boards, social media, and in video interviews. I was working a Monte Cox show in Illinois right after spending some time in Iowa at the Miletich gym. Sylvia had been telling us about a “date” that he was excited to bring to the show and insisted that we would recognize her. He had ringside seats and after arriving, I curiously made my way over to him to say hello, but also to find out who his mystery celebrity was.

I am bad at recognizing any human being in current pop culture, so after he introduced her, I was still struggling to place her, although she did look vaguely familiar, as if I had met her before. Then in a grand moment of bad timing, Tim smiles at the sight of someone passing behind me. Intrigued, I turn around to catch a glimpse of Andrei Arlovski walking behind me and it suddenly hits me that this women -- this woman whose hand I am in the middle of shaking -- is Arlovski’s ex-girlfriend (editor's note: Patrycja Mikula!).

While Tim and Andrei traded smirks for death stares, I did the only logical thing I could: cowardly slink away, pretending that I don’t know them, not that anyone noticed at that point. It was jabs like these, not played out for the camera, that only cemented a legendary rivalry, a real rivalry, which actually went beyond the cage.

Andreas Hale: Tim Sylvia will always have this awkward place in my memory. For the most part, Sylvia lives in my mind on the wrong end of MMA's middle heavyweight era. Randy Couture's shocking return, Fedor Emelianenko clobbering him and Frank Mir snapping his giant limb like a twig are images I cannot shake.

But he'll always have his UFC 59's flatlining of Andrei Arlovski to hang his hat on. When Arlovski planted a right hand on Sylvia's chin and turned his legs to jelly., I remember thinking “Oh, here we go again.” I figured it was evident that the hulking monster of a man from Maine would fall short in the big one again.

Well, I was wrong. An overzealous Arlovski rushed in for the kill and was met with a short right hand that looked eerily similar to the one Juan Manuel Marquez would use to decimate Manny Pacquiao six years later. No, the Maine-iac wouldn't have very many moments like this for the rest of his MMA career but it is one that I'll always remember.

Ian Robinson: I remember watching UFC 59 thinking we were about to witness the end of the Tim Sylvia. Andrei Arlovski, the fanged Belarusian wild man, had already taken Sylvia's leg home for the interim belt in just 47 seconds, so surely it was a foregone conclusion that he would do the same for the real title. No way did this lumbering goon stand a chance against such a superior athlete, right? So when Arlovski dropped Big Timmy two-and-a-half minutes into the first round, most of us thought all was going according to plan. How wrong we were. Not only did Sylvia immediately return to his feet, but he returned the favor seconds later, landing a short uppercut to Arlovski’s jaw and finishing the fight with a series of vicious right hands to once again secure the UFC heavyweight title. People write it off as just another heavyweight punch-up, but Sylvia-Arlovski 2 is one of the craziest 17-second sequences in MMA history.

While Sylvia's UFC run was filled with some hilarious moments, mainly due to his awkward style and incessantly wearing that damn title belt everywhere, the real comedy didn't start until he left the Octagon: getting blown out of the water by the great Fedor Emelienenko; Ray Mercer; his spectacle against increasingly-purple Polish strongman Mariusz Pudzianowski; and managing to avoid a loss against Arlovski in their fourth fight because of One FC's disjointed rule set at the time.

But, regardless of how things turned out for Sylvia, his UFC record speaks for itself. From lamping Tre Telligman with a high kick to riding out a decision over Jeff Monson, the man used the physical gift he was given and used them well. You can't mention Randy Couture, a legend in the sport, without bringing up Sylvia's name. You can't talk about the UFC heavyweight division without talking about him. In an ever increasing sea of faceless, cookie-cutter fighters, Tim Sylvia stands out as his own man and a true original.

C.J. Tuttle: It’s crazy to look at Tim Sylvia in 2015 and think that this is a guy who won 16 consecutive fights to start his professional career; or was at two separate times a UFC heavyweight champion.

Quite frankly, I’m pleased “The Maine-iac” wasn’t allowed to further tarnish a career that already suffers from its fair share of blemishes. This is not a guy who should be fighting to make a living at this stage (or state) in his life, but it’s disheartening to think that he is doing so because he monetarily needs to.

My fondest memory of Sylvia -- outside of him practically begging to fight on the first-ever UFC card in his home state of Maine -- came over the course of his four fights against Andrei Arlovski, which for me, epitomizes the highs and lows of Sylvia’s career.

After dropping their first bout at UFC 51 via achilles lock in under a minute, Sylvia came back to finish “The Pitb/events/UFC-48-Payback-2203ull” via technical knockout at UFC 59 and then grind out a unanimous decision over his nemesis at UFC 61. While many thought the second win put an end to their rivalry, it didn’t. The two heavyweights met at One FC 5 and ended in a controversial no contest. The idea of another rematch was mulled over, but never came to fruition.

Now Sylvia rides off into the sunset with three consecutive losses (four if you count the no contest) to round out his MMA existence, but he leaves the sport with something many fighters throughout the years have never laid claim to and can never be taken from him, the aforementioned UFC title reigns.

But hey, there’s always professional wrestling to fall back on.



Doug McKay: On the evening of June 19, 2004, I was sitting with a bunch of guys in my friend’s basement in northeast Ohio, drinking beers, as I was wont to do back in those days. But this wasn’t just any subterranean Pabst fest, it was the night of UFC 48, and of all the fights that night, the one we were most excited about was former heavyweight champ Tim Sylvia taking on Frank Mir for the vacant heavyweight title.

I remember thinking how huge Sylvia looked next to Mir, who was a really big man in his own right. Less than a minute in, Mir trapped him in an armbar. Sylvia started slamming Mir’s head on the mat and then suddenly Herb Dean jumped in and it was over. The crowd was angry at the referee stoppage, but not nearly as angry as Sylvia who was going bonkers that Herb had stopped the fight. Confusion seemed to dominate in the room as nobody, including commentator Joe Rogan or Mir, seemed to really get what had happened and why Herb had stopped it until that one camera angle that showed the middle of Sylvia’s forearm bending backwards at the wrong angle, clearly broken. Still, Sylvia would have none of it, saying that he was fine, he wanted to keep fighting right then and that his arm must have just popped out of joint.

But there’s no joint in the middle of your forearm unless said forearm is shattered, as his very clearly was to everyone now, except Tim Sylvia. My friends in the basement didn’t know what to make of this. How was this guy walking around like nothing had happened? I’d broken my arm before and it hurts. Sylvia admitted that he knew it was broken, but that he really just wanted to keep fighting. Now I could add a new adjective to my Tim Sylvia list: he was not just huge, but tough.

This next time I saw Sylvia was at UFC 51 against a longish-haired, frosted-tipped version of Andrei Arlovski for the interim heavyweight strap.

Sylvia now had several metal plates in his arm and I was really rooting for him after what had happened against Mir. It seemed poetic justice that Sylvia could get his belt back this time, but less than a minute in, Arlovski hit Sylvia with an overhand right that put him on his back and was able to quickly submit him with a leglock. Sylvia was so upset that he looked barely able to handle what had just happened to him.

About 14 months later, his chance came again. He’d won his last three fights and was granted another shot at the heavyweight belt, against Arlovski. Third time’s the charm, right? But about halfway through the round, Arlovski hit him with the exact same overhead right and dropped him, just like he had a year before. Sylvia went down like a ton of bricks and I groaned. Not again.

Twenty seconds later it was over -- but they were a crazy 20 seconds -- because that same Tim Sylvia who wanted to keep fighting with a shattered right arm had finally had enough. Not again. After going down he sprung back to his feet and landed a ridiculously hard right hook on Arlovski’s jaw, dropping the champ. He leapt on him and landed shots to the head until Herb Dean once again stopped the fight, except this time in Sylvia’s favor. He put everything behind him, got up off his back and knocked out the champ to regain the belt that had once been his. So, I add another adjective.

Tim Sylvia is huge. Tim Sylvia is tough. And Tim Sylvia is awesome.