Bloody and bizarre, UFC gets wild White House bragging rights with Trump’s blessing

WASHINGTON — By the time President Donald Trump — a brand-new octogenarian — strutted from the Oval Office to his seat with longtime pal Dana White, the Ultimate Fighting Championship CEO, thousands of people had shrugged off warnings about thunderstorms and stifling heat Sunday night. Bruce Buffer, the “Veteran Voice of the Octagon,” stood under a 600-ton structure known as “The Claw” and put his mouth to his mic. His words were simultaneously expected and jarring.

“We arrrrrrrre liiiiiiiiiive from the South Lawn of the White House in Washington, D.C., for UFC Freedom 250,” Buffer belted out, “presented by Ram Trucks — nothing stops Ram — and by Crypto.com, the world’s leading cryptocurrency platform.”

With that, what may be the most bizarre sporting event in the 250-year history of the United States was underway: Pairs of men placed in a cage, kicking, punching, kneeing and elbowing each other, with the president cheering them on. And when it was over, all Trump had to do was walk back across the White House lawn to get to his bedroom, a happy birthday to him.

There is irreverent and unexpected. Then there is UFC Freedom 250, seven mixed martial arts bouts held close enough to the White House that the nearest restrooms might have been in the West Wing.

“F— the speech,” combatant Josh Hokit said into the mic after he both won his bout and then presented Trump with some sort of necklace. “Shout out to Trump for having the balls to put s— like this on. And lastly, Michelle Obama is a man. Am I right, America?”

That wasn’t the tenor of the entire evening, which was less MAGA rally and more straight sporting event, with a watch party that felt like part state fair, part music festival accommodating what UFC said would be a crowd of some 80,000. But Hokit’s offensiveness in the shadow of the president’s home — with the Washington Monument visible to the south — was one indication that anything and everything was inbounds.

From a Washington, D.C., perspective, the entire affair felt out of place. From a UFC perspective, it checked every box — with thousands of people attending a watch party on the Ellipse, the grass expanse nestled between the White House and the Washington Monument.

“You couldn’t have a better night,” White said as 3 a.m. ET approached. “It was absolutely perfect. … I mean, if you look at what we did, we built an arena on the White House lawn. That was amazing. But if you look at what we did at the Ellipse, it’s almost more impressive than what we did on the South Lawn.”

This was beyond a spectacle, and not because the White House is foreign to sports. Teddy Roosevelt boxed in the gym. Dwight D. Eisenhower installed a putting green. Barack Obama expanded the tennis court so it could double as a full basketball court. George H.W. Bush played horseshoes.

This wasn’t horseshoes. It wasn’t hoops. There was blood. Which was part of the program.

“Dana the f—— gangster,” fighter Sean O’Malley said after he won his bout, an ode to White’s leadership. Public profanity, again blaring across the White House lawn. No one batted an eye.

What a journey for this sport to get to this space. In 1996, the late senator John McCain, a Republican from Arizona, proposed banning mixed martial arts, infamously labeling it “human cockfighting.” The sport, back then, was all but lawless. As UFC helped modernize it with uniform rules, McCain softened his stance. Trump supported White in the early 2000s, offering his hotels and casinos as venues when others were wary. White subsequently built UFC into a business valued at more than $11 billion, and the pair schemed to kick off the country’s 250th birthday celebration with bloodsport on the White House lawn.

“This was a one-of-one that will never happen again,” White said. “For all of us that were involved, from the fighters to my staff to the media, to their families and everybody, this was a unique, cool experience.”

The event was exclusive — just over 4,000 seats on the lawn itself, and if you weren’t a member of the cabinet, the military, Congress or Mark Zuckerberg, the message was good luck getting a seat. The masses were contained on the Ellipse. Thousands gathered there in the heat and humidity, though the predicted thunderstorms that delayed the card by almost an hour never fully materialized. The mood was buoyant.

“This was a roadtrip,” said 21-year-old Leo Muldoon, who traveled from Massachusetts to watch the fights on massive video screens on the Ellipse. “I told my friend, ‘This is going to be the biggest event of the year.’ We had to do it.”

That was the tenor in the crowd, curiosity combined with UFC fandom with a political undertone to it all, fueled by $12 Bud Lights. There were pro-Trump hats, but they were far outnumbered by UFC T-shirts — both from Sunday’s event, but also going back years. Protests were subdued — a man wearing a “Get the U.S. out of D.C.” T-shirt, another holding a sign that said, “Welcome to big, beautiful Democrat D.C., an oasis away from your red state s—holes.”

What it was: highly commercial. UFC said it spent $60 million to stage the event. No sponsorship opportunity would be left unturned. The octagon was littered with logos: Bud Light, Cuervo Tequila, Toyo Tires, on and on, the president’s house as advertising space.

During the broadcast, an announcer spoke over the image of a fighter walking to the octagon.

“Tonight’s fighter walkouts are brought to you by Scotts,” he said. “UFC wants to thank Scotts for helping restore the White House lawn after UFC Freedom 250, the lawn will be more beautiful than ever thanks to Scotts.”

Well, according to court filings in a suit filed earlier this month by two Virginia residents aimed at halting the entire card, it’ll cost $700,000 to return the lawn to normal. That’s a lot of Scotts.

Which gets us to the propaganda. The nation’s 250th birthday should be a time for patriotism, and the American fighters on the card received supportive chants of “USA! USA!” from the military members who were invited.

The periods between fights, though, were filled in part with what amounted to hype videos for the country, drawing from the past two and a half centuries. One began with painted images of, say, George Washington, then worked its way forward.

“We’re a nation born of revolution,” one video blared, “so fighting is in our DNA.”

By the video’s end, the paintings were no longer of Washington or Lincoln, but of UFC stars with blood dripping down their faces. The presentation would be how UFC and the Trump administration wanted it, with no compromises.

During a media tour of the Claw and the lawn on Thursday morning, a reporter walked to the top level of the grandstand and looked over the edge at the construction of Trump’s ballroom project, the White House’s new East Wing. A uniformed security guard admonished her: “We’re not here for that.”

What we were here for: an unprecedented display of American excess, with the blessing of a president who loves nothing more, on his 80th birthday. The final fight of the night: undefeated lightweight Ilia Topuria against American underdog Justin Gaethje.

By the middle of the third round, as 1 a.m. ET Monday came and went, Topuria’s face had been all but rearranged. He struggled to keep his eyes open. Blood smeared the surface of the octagon. The action was furious and savage. After four rounds, Gaethje had so wounded the champion that Topuria’s corner stopped the fight.

“I’m from America,” Gaethje said into the mic. “Two hundred and fifty years ago, we were way bigger than 6-to-1 dogs.”

Two-and-a-half centuries ago, blood was spilled to give birth to this country. Could any of the folks who fought that fight have envisioned how those events would be celebrated 250 years later?

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