It was after his last fight -- a bizarre three rounds spent chasing Kalib Starnes around the Octagon at UFC 83 in April -- that “Rock” quoted from “Rocky IV.” He smiled uncontrollably as he set up the joke and let the lines out: “If you can change, and I can change, anybody can change!”
There was a time when change was not a possibility for Quarry. He grew up as a Jehovah’s Witness in a restricted environment he freely describes as a “cult.” Socialization with anyone outside the religion was discouraged, and sports were banned. Quarry had never even seen a boxing match when, at 24, he stumbled upon the UFC while attending a party.
“I remember that day very well,” he says.
Quarry was not repelled by the inherent violence in mixed martial arts. Instead, he was drawn to its athleticism and valor.
Already in shape from weight lifting and labor-intensive jobs as a shop foreman and sign installer, Quarry grabbed the Yellow Pages. He had never scored a touchdown, hit a home run or thrown a punch, but he was about to venture into the cutthroat world of combat sports. It was a cliff dive into deep, unfamiliar waters, and his introduction was unforgiving.
Cashing in a free trial at a local gym, Quarry was choked continuously by a thin jiu-jitsu practitioner. Quarry displayed his lack of defensive knowledge when he tried to defend rear-naked chokes by standing up, jumping backward and landing on the smaller man.
“I don’t know why he didn’t choke me completely unconscious,” says Quarry, now versed in the ways of the mats.
Learning to strike did not go smoothly, either.
“Back at this gym where I first started training, the coach hated holding pads, hated holding mitts, so his whole thing was you hit mitts for three months then you throw the mitts away and never hit them again,” Quarry says. “Now you just spar, and I didn’t know any better.”
Jeff Sherwood/Sherdog.com
Though green early in his
career, Quarry showed flashes
of being something special.
“I guess that’s how you do it,” Quarry thought.
For many combat sports outsiders who find themselves on the wrong end of pain, the world suddenly becomes too real. However, Quarry came back. Training hard allowed him to add technique to his strength and realize its value over brute force. The most important piece was already in place; he saw an opportunity and took it.
Reality bites
An invitation to join his gym’s fight team was met with reluctance, but Quarry gave in, quit his day job and focused on fighting.
The move represented an extreme shift in gears from his non-competitive upbringing, but it was another opportunity that pushed Quarry closer to what he wanted in life. Crossing paths with fellow Oregonian Randy Couture as an upstart, Quarry followed the future UFC hall of famer, became a member of Team Quest and soon found himself part of the UFC’s great experiment -- “The Ultimate Fighter” reality series.
Quarry had never seen a reality show before. Not one to pass up opportunities, the California-born fighter who had amassed a 5-1 record jumped in and looked to win the tournament. However, he never got to compete on the show because of an on-site ankle injury. Still, doors opened.
The greatest moment of his career came when he finally stepped into the Octagon at “The Ultimate Fighter 1” Finale and stopped Lodune Sincaid in the first round. It signaled his arrival on MMA’s grandest stage. However, the vindication that came with two more wins over Shonie Carter and Pete Sell remains buried under what seems like an endless loop of his first UFC loss -- a brutal knockout at the hands of then middleweight champion Rich Franklin in November 2005.
When Quarry hit that mat, everything changed. His stiff body was the only image fans had of the middleweight for 22 months. They saw it repeatedly, as he recuperated from a devastating back injury. Degenerative disc disease and damaged vertebrae put “Rock” in a hard place.
“I had people tell me, ‘Don’t get back surgery,’” Quarry says.
The stakes were higher than competing again. Mobility will be limited. A happy, normal life would be out of the question, they warned. Their sentiments struck Quarry like Franklin’s straight left: “Whatever pain you’re going through now will be 10 times worse after the back surgery.”
Doctors did not make his decision any easier. Death and paralysis were on the table. Nuvasive, an advanced spinal surgery, was presented to Quarry as another option, and, despite the gamble, he took it.
He was boxing after three months. Full sparring came six months later.