Fight Night! Jordan’s Fella vs Essex Banker, Blow by Blow!

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For tonight’s clash, the imposing metal cage is protecting the fighter from the crowd, not vice versa. Because inside this 32-foot octagon at the eye of this storm stands Alex Reid, currently Mr Katie Price, and now Britain’s latest national hate figure. Only 100 feet of vinyl-coated fencing separates the mob of thugs, travellers and bloodthirsty mugs from the fighters. From the 2,000 feral beasts in the crowd to his skinhead opponent, many, it seems, want to wipe the grin off his face. And tonight might just be the night it’ll happen…

TRAINING DAYS
This, ladies and gentleman, is the alternative fight of the decade. While wrestling is so 1990, this is MMA, or Mixed Martial Arts – two-parts Bruce Lee, one-part Glasgow street brawl. It’s the hottest new sport on the planet and the only place where you can hope to see the self-titled ‘Reidinator’ taught a lesson by an everyman hero. Allow loaded to introduce Jack Mason: the banker by day, fighter by night, in the ultimate underdog story.
For one month, we followed the build up to this thriller, from both corners. loaded witnessed Reid, getting caught up in the reality TV world of Jordan, and were dazzled by the flashguns of the paparazzi. Conversely, only speed cameras flash at Jack Mason, as he drives out of work to travel to his gritty gym – us in the passenger seat of his Volkswagen.
“Reid has pulled out of fights with me twice before,” says Mason pulling up outside the Pro-Am Fight Centre in Cambridge, 35 miles from his home in Chelmsford. It’s 28 days to ‘fight night’. “Reid’s got it all his own way, demanding this be a K1 fight, which he’s competed in for 15 years,” says Jack.

Jack "The Stone" Mason emerges at the Troxy, London

On one of the crumbling walls of the gym, a child’s drawing depicts a Crayon monster with huge biceps and scary triangle teeth. It turns out this is a picture of Jack’s trainer, Robbie Olivier. Tonight this martial artist will be training Jack to fight in Reid’s preferred sport, K1. It’s a Thai combat sport that combines techniques from Karate, Taekwondo and a stir-fry of other martial arts. “Because of the Jordan thing,” explains Jack, pointing to a motivational press cutting on the wall, “the promoters would have Reid on the bill if he wanted to come ballroom dancing.”

But ballroom couldn’t be further from Jack’s primitive training regime. Like Stallone in Rocky IV, Mason trains without the expensive gym equipment, instead spending his spare time lifting giant truck tyres around a grim car park and smashing them with sledgehammers. “The best fighter, Fedor Emelianenko, trains alone in a forest, using his own bodyweight,” he says. Next, loaded must visit Reid, the Ivan Drago to Mason’s Balboa.

GYM’LL FIX IT
“This isn’t a tractor-pulling contest,” quips Alexander Reid, 34, current UK1 Middleweight champion, former WUMA European champion and Extreme Brawl Champion. loaded’s in Reid’s ominous-looking gym, the ‘Shin Kick’, in Woking. A world apart from Jack’s spit-and-sawdust joint, Reid trains in a fully matted martial arts centre.

Waiting in the chill-out area and juice bar, surrounded by photos of champion Thai instructors, is Katie Price and son Harvey. It is loaded’s photos of Jack, taken days before, that interest her. Harvey sits on our lap, messily colouring in a 2004 issue of loaded with his Mum on the cover, while Katie winds Alex up for the camera. “Look at his scary kick!” she coos. “He’s a heavyweight.”

Loaded shot of Alex Reid, at the Shin Kick Gym, Woking.

MIND OVER MATTER
Reid is not impressed. It’s now 14 days to fight night, and the ex-Hollyoaks actor has fallen foul of the press after claims he starred in a violent pornography film. But if he needs casting any further as the villain of this piece, allow us to recap on Reid’s previous form: In his last fight against 19-year-old rookie Jake Bostwick, he defeated the lad with a gruesome kick. But with his opponent out cold and receiving medical attention, Reid then stood on his head and posed for photos, flexing both biceps.

“Can I talk about that?” a visibly embarrassed Reid asks of his manager. Two cameras filming Jordan’s ITV2 reality show What Katie Did Next, zoom in on his face. “I’ve done some very controversial things in the cage,” he sighs, “but that ruined my whole night. I learnt a lot from it.” And he did. Bostwick’s Father jumped in the cage and floored the disgraced winner. Every sport needs a bad boy, but Reid is no pantomime villain: the hatred vented underneath YouTube videos of the fighter is largely unprintable.

“Are you on a sex ban?” loaded asks Reid “Yes, two weeks, minimum.” “And afterwards?” “After the fight you’re so knackered, it’ll be the day after that.” Reid says the strain of the media attention is affecting his preparation for the fight. “I find it hard to relax,” he says. “I get angry with the paparazzi. I find everything stressful: my manager, girlfriends, loaded…” Katie Price is livid. “Girlfriend!” she cries. Alex continues, “But I don’t want to come into the fight that angry. Athletes have to be controlled, so I’m doing meditation and hypnosis. It gets you chilled out and calm. Hopefully.”

The day after loaded visited Reid, Jack phoned us from a remote training camp, Tiger Muay Thai in Phuket, Thailand, in an attempt to escape the glare of the tabloid press. “One newspaper rang me and offered a lot of money to have a fake affair with Jodie Marsh, Jordan’s rival. My long-term girlfriend went mental!”

Jack prepares for the big scrap, flanked by ring dolls

CASHING IN
“With Reid on the bill,” says fight promoter Dave O’Donnell, “Anything can happen.” Surly ringmaster O’Donnell is the self-confessed daddy of British MMA, who is currently basking in the attention on his event, ‘Ultimate Challenge,’ by the Jordan effect.
“Of course it’s good for business,” says O’Donnell, before both fighters are weighed-in at the empty Troxy venue where the fight will be held. “MMA is going to be huge.” O’Donnell’s vision is for his franchise to become as big as the American counterpart. It’s a big dream: Stateside, UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship) went mainstream, after dropping the ‘no holds barred’ label to become a massive pay-per-view success. Six video games followed, the DVDs, and the action figures of American fighters like Quinton ‘Rampage’ Jackson and Randy Couture.

In July, the UFC 100 became the fourth most watched PPV of all time, with over 1.5million ‘buys’ in the States and 100,000 over here. Kerching! Yet despite the efforts of O’Donnell, Ultimate Challenge is small change compared to the Americans. Gatorade and Microsoft sponsor the UFC while Ultimate Challenge is sponsored by a suspicious hangover tablet. There are issues with the branding as well– Jack ‘The Stone’ Mason clearly has no experience in masonry, but ‘The Reidinator’? Christ…

TALKING TOUGH
Following the weigh-in is a WWE-style press conference, rammed with journalists interested only in Alex Reid’s sex life with Jordan. “I totally understand and respect Jack for taking the fight,” says Reid, turning talk to the fight. “But he’s got nothing to lose. It’s my title, and I’ve got everything to lose. It’s probably the most important fight of my career.” The fighters are soon pushed into ‘trash talk’ by the commercially minded O’Donnell. “It’s not about how you fight, it’s how you look,” grins Reid, smugly. “All I want is your belt,” scowls Mason across the room. “As MC Hammer once said,” retorts Reid, “You can’t touch this.”

Mason looks uncomfortable during the conference. The cameras are aimed at Reid, and not one question is asked of the Essex banker. “I hate that stuff,” Jack had said earlier. “I could go to town on Reid in the press, but I won’t. You know he’s got no nipples. I did a promotion event with him. I don’t know what happened, but they go inwards. He doesn’t like to talk about it.” This may explain why he wouldn’t take his shirt off for the loaded snapper.

THE BUILD-UP
It’s Saturday night, famously alright for fighting, and east London’s Troxy venue is sold-out. The pre-war dancehall has been a cinema and home to the Royal Opera, but today it shares tenancy with the cage fighters and, on Sunday night, gay disco Salvation (if you get your days muddled you’ll still see shirtless men grappling to bad music).
The crowd tonight are mostly off-duty bouncers in bad suits, with ‘ring rat’ blondes on their arms, and ‘good, honest’ geezers here for the violence. A fighter lower down on the card makes an entrance in a coffin, to the music favoured by WWE wrestler, The Undertaker, but is quickly knocked out and swiftly leaves in it. Soon, it’s time for the main event.

“You’ve seen him on the television!” booms O’Donnell, the promoter-turned ring announcer, with more than a suggestion of an American accent. “You’ve seen him in magazines!” Dave is pouring kerosene onto the sparks of violence leaping around this hellish venue. “Alex… Reeeeeid!” Under the mist of the smoke machine, violence erupts in the cheap seats of the audience. A 70-man brawl leaves one hospitalised with head injuries before a paid-for punch has even landed. The crowd surge forward and lean over the barriers, fists pumping in anger at the defending champion. As some trouble is quelled, Jordan takes her seat and finally, the battle between Jack and Alex begins.

JUDGEMENT DAY
The fight is as exciting as any promoter could have hoped for. round one sees Mason steaming forward, landing vicious knees, and scoring with some stiff jabs. But the champion just leans back, antagonising, flashing Jack a smile designed to provoke him. Suddenly… BAM! Mason snaps a right-cross that knocks Reid back to last week. “He’s fucking got him!” shouts a wag from the crowd. Jordan stands high up on her chair, hiding her face behind her manicured hands. The round ends in a draw. Reid, angered, returns with a left-hook that rattles Jack’s chin. But the crowd are on their feet chanting, “Mason, Mason, Mason!” Jack lands jab after jab while stepping backwards, under fire from Reid’s evil kicks. But this is Jack’s day – the moment he’s been training for his whole fighting career.

Mason lands a blow on Reid

From sixth-form bodybuilder to part-time brawler, he suffered four brutal defeats at the start of his career, learning the hard way. Now, after five wins in a row and hotly tipped for UFC stardom, he dips his head and throws a sweet jab at Reid, opening his eye. Ringside, a punter in a £150 seat shows the waiter a pint glass with blood on it, who replaces it without taking his eyes off the fight: Mason is winning.

The bell clangs and the crowd erupts again. This time it’s messy, but Reid scores well with ring control and hooks. With seconds to spare, the exhausted banker, smacks a knee into Reid’s forehead with the judges in mind, and with a clang of the bell, it’s all over.
“Mason, Mason!” the crowd continue, as Reid staggers back to his corner, like a wobbling Bambi. The feral crowd are screaming, “Mason, Mason!” O’Donnell, beaming, holds both fighters’ hands in his, as the judges decide who the winner will be.

ALL GUTS, NO GLORY
What happens next is a slide show of angry faces and ugly scenes. Katie Price is in the ring, flicking V-signs at the crowd, as Reid holds the belt above his head. The giant TV screen beams Jack’s shocked expression to the upper tiers, where it’s all going off. A spectator leans over a barrier to shake Reid’s hand and instead, lands a right-hook on him. Sky TV turn the music up to drown out 2,000 people chanting, “Fix.”
Jack slips away, as the journalists prepare their reports. “Had there not been a title on the line, I would have judged the fight to be a draw,” wrote MMA writer Lee Whitehead, while The Daily Star’s Fight Editor wrote, “I saw Jack ‘The Stone’ Mason robbed in his fight against Alex Reid… It was a dodgy decision.” Perhaps, Jack lost not to Alex Reid tonight, but to the publicity machine propelling his sport to mainstream entertainment.

Tags: Alex Reid, Cage fight, Jack Mason, Jordan, MMA, UFC, Ultimate Challenge