There was a revelation impulse in a pre-fight hype package that ran on UFC Fight Pass usually before to Greg Hardy’s Tuesday dusk feat on Dana White’s Contender Series.
While perplexing to connote to his “checkered past” though categorically fixing it, producers showed us clips of Hardy (1-0) walking adult a stairs to a building while he lamented a detriment of his NFL career in a voiceover.
“The misfortune day of my life was when all that was taken away,” Hardy said, before throwing himself. “Or, when we gave it away. And we usually had to lay on a side and watch everybody perform and make people happy and do a things that we wanted to do though couldn’t do anymore.”
See what happened there? The whole account usually changed.
Instead of his NFL exit being a story about how Hardy was effectively run out of a joining after a domestic assault detain and self-assurance (which was subsequently overturned on appeal, when a plant couldn’t be located to testify) it became a unhappy story of anguish in that a earnest immature contestant mislaid his possibility to pierce fun to millions.
This seems to be a chronicle of a story that a UFC is vigilant on pitching. When pulpy about his preference to embody Hardy in a quarrel array that bears his name, UFC President Dana White has attempted dual routes, infrequently some-more or reduction simultaneously: 1) Hardy doesn’t indeed have a domestic assault conviction on his record, interjection to a appeal, and 2) Everybody deserves a second chance.
These are exclusive arguments. The initial argues that he’s radically not guilty, while a second argues that even a guilty are still honourable of redemption. Those don’t work together. If you’re a promoter, you’ve got to collect a line here.
By a time Tuesday’s eventuality rolled around, White seemed to have staid on a path.
“People always make mistakes, and a thing about creation mistakes is, how do we redeem from that? How do we act after you’ve finished something bad?” White said. “This man has paid his dues, and like we said, he strike stone bottom. He built himself behind up, he’s going out there, and he’s fighting in these pledge fights where he doesn’t get paid. Now he came here, and we consider he done $10,000 and $10,000. He’s operative his approach behind adult a ladder. He’s doing a right things. He’s off drugs, he’s off alcohol, and he’s perplexing to change his life.”
The Hardy hype package pushed a identical narrative. He was going down a wrong trail while in a NFL, we were told, though removing into MMA helped him spin his life around.
Except, detached from a fact that he’s won some fights and has avoided any successive arrests (apart from a one for cocaine possession that helped dive his exit from a Dallas Cowboys), we don’t have any justification of Hardy branch his life around.
This also isn’t a initial time Hardy’s been a customer of a second possibility storyline. Cowboys owners Jerry Jones, who once called domestic assault “intolerable,” after defended his team’s decision to pointer Hardy to a $13 million giveaway representative contract.
“We have given Greg a second chance,” Jones pronounced in a statement. “He is a member of a group and someone who is beholden for a event he has been given to pierce brazen with his life and his career.”
Sounds an awful lot like White, who once pronounced that domestic violence was “one thing we never come behind from,” usually to change his mind later, and in some-more than once instance.
Look, we all know since White is so meddlesome in Hardy, and it’s not since of his adore for second chances (just ask Jason High or Paul Daley). He looks during a big, jaunty heavyweight with knockout power, and he sees dollar signs. He sees intensity increase that transcend a snub from fans and associate fighters, copiousness of whom have themselves been a victims of domestic violence.
This isn’t about emancipation – it’s about money.
It’s unequivocally that simple. It always has been. The slightest we can do – and we do meant a very least – is be honest with ourselves about it.