A real Maine-iac

Ellsworth’s Tim Sylvia has a shot at the Ultimate Fighting Championship

By Tanya Whiton

Tim Sylvia fights UFC Heavyweight Champion Ricco Rodriguez, Feb. 28, in Atlantic City. Call your local cable provider for pay-per-view access.

FIGHT CLUB: Sylvia's the one delivering the blow

Ellsworth native Tim Sylvia used to be known as “that Sylvia kid who rode around on his three wheeler and raked blueberries in the summer.” He’d been a mediocre wrestler in high school, a karate enthusiast, and, then, post-high school, got into grappling — where he discovered the joy of knocking people out. In an amateur Mixed Martial Arts fight (no fists), Sylvia clobbered his opponent hard enough with an open hand to lay the guy out on the mat. But it wasn’t until Sylvia left his home state for Davenport, Iowa, to train with Ultimate Fighting Championship pioneer Pat Miletich, that he began to really think of himself as somebody other than “that Sylvia kid.”

After two years with Miletich — whose particular brand of ass kicking, Miletich Fighting Systems, is now a UFC standard — Sylvia is different. He’s known as the Maine-iac, and he took the title at last year’s Superbrawl, winning four fights in two days, all by a KO or TKO, which led to a three-fight contract with the UFC.

Originally styled as a modern-day gladiator bout without the big cats, the UFC is still essentially a no-holds-barred contest, but with more emphasis on technique and form, and a little less bone-snapping and tendon-tearing. In the UFC ring — a raised octagonal mat enclosed with chain-link fencing — fighters wear nothing but close-fitting shorts and minimal hand protection. They’ve got to be in shape.

Sylvia’s a contender. The six-foot-eight-inch fighter, who started his training at a slack 337 pounds, is now a lean, mean 255, and, on February 28, in Atlantic City, he’s going up against reigning Heavyweight UFC Champion Ricco Rodriguez.

Now, when Sylvia goes home for a visit, people want to buy a T-shirt with his recently acquired fight name on it. “I used to be known as the Grizzly Bear, but the UFC thought it’d be good for me to represent Maine. At first I thought it was kind of tacky to change my name mid-career, but now I’m [glad] I did — I don’t think anybody else in the sport is from Maine.”

While there are other mixed martial arts fighters from Vacationland battling up through the ranks — many of whom train with Master Choi at Choi’s Institute of Martial Arts in Portland — Sylvia is the first Mainer to get a shot at the UFC title, and a high-profile one at that: Ultimate Fighting Championship #41, Onslaught, will be broadcast on pay-per-view TV, and approximately 10,000 spectators will attend the event. Not only will Rodriguez be defending his title, but scrappy lightweight contenders Caol Uno and BJ Penn will also be in the ring. And — to the irritation of many of the serious athletes — former UFC legend Tank Abbott will be returning from a stint in World Championship Wrestling to fight jiu-jitsu specialist Frank Mir.

Rodriguez has compared his bout with the green, 26-year-old Sylvia to Apollo Creed giving young Rocky Balboa a title shot in the first Rocky flick. “Except,” says Rodriguez, “there won’t be any split decision. I’m gonna take him out.” In reality, though the six-foot-three, 240-lb Rodriguez is as yet undefeated, he’s actually a year younger than Sylvia, and unlike The Maine-iac, he’s sustained some injuries.

Not to mention the fact that Sylvia is hungry. If he wins the fight with Rodriguez, he’ll have tremendous bargaining power when it comes time to renew his contract — or look elsewhere: No-holds-barred fighting is huge (and very, very lucrative) in Japan.

But Sylvia currently exists solely to kick butt. He says he’s happy to have the shot, though it’s sooner than he expected. “I’m going to test out his [Rodriguez’] chin,” he says, “and see what he’s got.” In Miletich’s UFC boot camp, Sylvia and his peers lift weights, spar, grapple, and wrestle for five-to-six hours a day, training like Olympic hopefuls. And though Davenport, Iowa, is far from The Maine-iac’s childhood stomping grounds, Sylvia says he feels right at home: He lives in a house with three other fellas who also train with Miletich. While he talked with the Phoenix, the sounds of pots and pans clanking could be heard in the background — somebody was making lunch for the household.

“Out here it’s a big family,” he says. “We hang out, we cook food for each other.”

After a day of beating each other up?

“Yeah,” Sylvia laughs. “When I first came out here, I got beat up every day for a year straight.” He adds, “A lot of the guys come from broken down homes and rough childhoods,” implying that Miletich’s school has created a different kind of home, in which the dysfunctional elements of the past have been transformed into tools for achieving in the ring. Miletich acts as both coach and adversary, alternately working his fighters over and building them up.

When asked if he came from a similar environment, Sylvia responds matter-of-factly: “Yeah, I had a rough childhood.” He hedges a bit when asked if that’s influenced his choice of vocation: “I think that has something to do with it, yeah.”

Sylvia, like other fighters who aspire to UFC greatness, is quick to defend his exceptionally violent sport. “All the brutishness and barbaricness is gone,” he says. “And it’s safer than boxing — you take less blows to the head. It’s the best way to test your abilities [as an athlete]. It’s everything — you’re not one-dimensional.”

It’s true, that though the UFC used to have a fairly bloody reputation, the sport is much more highly regulated now than in past years: In order to keep cable audiences, they had to clean things up. Now there’s no head butting, eye gouging, biting, hair pulling, fish hooking, throat chops, kidney kicks, or spitting. While some fighters (and fans) resent the imposition of regulations, Sylvia says “I think it’s great, great for me, great for the sport.”

Sylvia, like most MMA-trained contenders, uses a combination of boxing, kickboxing, jiu-jitsu, and wrestling, but his specialty, he says, is punching. At six-foot-eight, he’s got some reach. “Rodriguez,” he says, “is not very good at standup fighting. He doesn’t like to get punched. I like it — some guys will grin and smile and throw back a bigger hit. [Rodriguez] is a ground specialist, a grappler.”

But Rodriguez is known for being able to weather a serious pounding in the opening rounds, coming back for a take down when his opponent wearies or loses focus.

And in the UFC, after initial sparring, most fights go down to the mat, where being able to submit your opponent via holds is crucial. So what happens if Rodriguez gets Sylvia on the mat? Rodriguez is at the top of his form, an established talent, with rigorous training in Brazilian jiu-jitsu. Not to mention that the fight will be taking place close to his home turf in New Jersey — he’ll most likely have the crowd on his side.

Sylvia is relatively unphased. “I’m really good on the ground,” he says. “We’re evenly matched.” In five five-minute rounds, the former ne’er-do-well Ellsworth townie will put his hard-won skills to the test. What does he think when the adrenalin starts pumping?

“I’ve just got to remember to keep my chin down,” he says. “Once the gates close, it’s just another day at the office.”

Tanya Whiton can be reached at twhiton@prexar.com.