UFC Retrospective Series Part 2: The Dark Days

In anticipation of July's landmark UFC 100 event, CBSSports.com will be running a weekly, eight-part UFC retrospective series, looking back at some of the pivotal moments, events and figures that shaped the sport. This is Part 2. Next week will focus on Zuffa's purchase and early promotion of the UFC.

The Ultimate Fighting Championship was an early hit on pay-per-view, with stars like Royce Gracie and Ken Shamrock. And of course, it ended up soaring to even higher heights in recent years behind Chuck Liddell, Tito Ortiz and Randy Couture. But there was a time when the sport's future in North America was very much in doubt. It was unclear if the sport would be able to survive, let alone thrive.

Pulver is one of the fighters that toughed out the 'dark days.' (UFC)

The early UFC was promoted more as a bloody spectacle than a sport. That was a key to the initial success, but it led to a backlash. Lawmakers and regulatory commissions across the country worked to ban the sport. MMA was prohibited in most states, and UFC lost significant pay-per-view clearances. Revenue started to dry up, and the sport went underground.

It was during that period, beginning in 1997 and reaching its lowest point from 1999-2000, that UFC struggled just to stay alive. A small band of fighters continued to train and compete, because they loved the sport and hoped that it would one day again rise in prominence.

Jens Pulver is a former UFC lightweight champion and competes now at 145 pounds for World Extreme Cagefighting. For Pulver and many other fighters at the time, advancing in the sport meant great personal sacrifice.

"I believed in this thing," Pulver says. "I quit a job working at a high school where I had retirement and insurance. My grandparents were damn near in tears. I believed this was the wave of the future. When I quit my job and moved to Iowa, they didn't even have a 155-pound division. They didn't even have the weight class I wanted, and I still went after it."

Pulver joined Pat Miletich's Miletich Fighting Systems, a training ground for young men who believed. Miletich still trains young fighters and also provides commentary for the Strikeforce promotion.

"I knew the sport would become a big success," Miletich says. "It was just a matter of when people would get educated about the sport. As it got more notoriety and exposure, it would explode."

While fighters like Pulver and Miletich had visions of a brighter future, the reality on the ground was quite different. The UFC had largely been run out of bigger markets, and was running in smaller cities like Lake Charles, La., and Cedar Rapids, Iowa.

In many of those markets, there wasn't significant knowledge about the sport. Crowds were often unappreciative of the technical aspects of the game or even ground fighting in general.

"They would boo at a takedown when it hit the floor," Pulver recalls. "They thought the whole guard thing was ridiculous. I remember sitting in the crowd thinking this isn't Toughman, this is MMA. People just wanted bloodbaths because that's how the sport was promoted."

Miletich says the lack of knowledge wasn't always a negative.

"The event could be considered more intense," Miletich says. "The sport was new, and the fans, because they hadn't witnessed it before, were a lot more enthusiastic."

Kevin Randleman fought for the UFC during the dark days of the company and later went on to compete for Pride FC and now Strikeforce (his next fight is June 6 on Showtime against Mike Whitehead). Randleman feels that the anarchy in the stands often mirrored anarchy in the sport itself.

"The fighters had no structure," Randleman says. "It was more our team against your team. There were fights in the cage and on the street. The progression of MMA was from fighting to a sport."

Fighters not only had to struggle to train, make ends meet and educate fans as to what they were doing. None of that would matter if the sport couldn't convince politicians and athletic commissions to allow the events to happen.

"I was frustrated at the time," Miletich says. "I was preparing for fights and also preparing for debates with politicians in different places. It was hard to train for fights when the state might ban the sport."

An indignant Randleman has no love lost for the forces that once kept the sport down.

"If the public wants it, how can the politicians deny it?" Randleman asks. "If we want it they listen to their constituents, not sit up there on their high horse. They can be out the next election cycle. They need to listen to the people."

For the fighters who made it through the dark days and went on to compete again on bigger stages in front of bigger crowds, the early struggles made the later successes all the sweeter.

"Now you can go into it knowing you can make it as a career if you're good," Pulver says. "I was a wrestler who didn't want to give it up and was trying to learn as I went along. I remember telling myself at the time, 'If I can walk away from the sport owning a house, I'll be happy.' Not a big house. Just if I could buy a home I've had a great career. I'm so happy with what I've been able to accomplish and how the sport has grown."

But in order to continue on, trailblazers like Pulver need to hold off the challenge of a new generation of fighters. On June 7, that means Pulver has to find a way to beat 12-1 rising star Josh Grispi.

"I remember thinking back in the day that 15-year-old kids would eventually have the ability to do nothing but train," Pulver notes. "And now here they are, and my head spins seeing some of these guys. This guy's a 20-year-old savage. He's got some great wins, he's strong and he's way too young to know about caution."

It's a stiff test, but Pulver has overcome bigger obstacles.

Todd Martin has covered mixed martial arts for the Los Angeles Times, Wrestling Observer, SI.com and CBSSports.com. He can be reached at toddmartin4l@aol.com.