Clown Show: Mumble Mouthed Colby Covington Secures Legacy as UFC's Biggest Loser
The sad thing about Colby Covington, the mumble mouthed UFC contender who practically defines “try hard”, is that you can see what he’s going for. It’s actually a kind of a clever idea—a loud, belligerent avatar of American exceptionalism, parroting Donald Trump talking points for an audience that leans so far right that the boat is in danger of capsizing.
He wears a funny George Washington wig! He visits Trump at the White House! He cynically thanks first responders and the military whenever he senses the audience’s discontent! It’s good stuff—Chael Sonnen’s gimmick on Chael Sonnen level PEDs, the ultimate right wing tough guy grifting the most griftable people on Earth.
In a fawning ESPN profile pre-fight, we’re told it’s all just a character, an act being put on for money and attention. And, in theory, it’s an easy one to play, so over-the-top and lacking nuance that it doesn’t exactly require Olivier to pull it off. Memorize the talking points, deliver them in a booming voice, collect boatloads of cash from snowflakes desperate for any kind of athletic or pop culture success. Colby Covington should have it made.
It’s just that he’s so bad at it.
The problem with Covington is that you can see the doubt written on his face. It’s a part that requires confidence if nothing else—and the eyes don’t lie. This dude is constantly shook, afraid he’s going to get his lines wrong, afraid he’s going to get his ass beat at a Miami steak house, afraid he’s going to die alone.
Months into a one-way feud with the basketball star, he still fumbles something as simple as LeBron James’ name. When he attempts to deliver his political points, it’s clear they are just words tumbling inarticulately from his mouth. There’s never a sense he believes or understands what he’s saying, none of the “fuck you” smirking idiocy that so confidently animates the face of fellow dipshit Bryce Mitchell, for example, when he explains that the Earth is actually flat.
Colby, instead, spews his nonsense with dead eyes, joyless in his choices, winless when it matters.
Leon Edwards, earlier in the week victim to one of Colby’s ugly attacks, dispatched him with relative ease, only stumbling when he attempted to embarrass the wrestler by beating him at his own game. Covington, known for his swarming, if inefficient attack, was cautious until it was too late to win. His strategy is built on volume. For all his bluster about hurting and maiming foes, Covington is built to win decisions. Against Edwards, he didn’t even manage the courage to try, focusing instead on surviving the contest with his faculties fully in place, no doubt planning the Trump style denunciation of the judges from the jump.
“The judges have never favored me,” he said after the fight. “They hate me because I support Trump. Everybody hates Trump in this building. It is what it is.”
Never mind that Trump was met with a thunderous ovation when he walked into the arena—the truth has never been particularly important to this kind of culture warrior. This was the perfect opportunity for a rare show of humility. He had lost so clearly and in such a chicken shit manner, that the bravado just couldn’t work. He needed to regroup.
Instead, Covington doubled down on the rhetoric, losing the audience who had seen him shit the bed with their own eyes and weren’t buying it. The result was a dismal disaster, a fumbling not just of the bag, but of dignity and self-respect, a floundering, epic misstep among the most pathetic in the history of the UFC. Only Conor McGregor, angrily spewing venom towards Dustin Poirier’s wife as he sat pitifully on the mat, unable to support himself on a broken leg comes close—and at least he had shock and pain to explain the vitriol. Covington? He’s just an asshole with a pea-sized brain and the smallest of small dick energy.
Prior to the fight, after years of trying and failing, he finally connected with the intended audience, greeted with raucous cheers and even a “USA! USA!” chant. But, in the end, the same crowd was jeering him, put off between the disconnect between his tough talk before the fight and cowering presence during it. That’s how bad he was, how utterly anemic and ineffective, even in the rare moments he was gifted a strong position by Edwards.
It was Covington’s third loss in a title fight in as many tries. There likely won’t be another. It’s a gimmick that requires winning. Trump and his ilk aren’t forgiving of losers—as demonstrated by the former President’s decision to leave the arena even as Colby desperately tried to win the booing crowd back with lavish praise of his beloved leader.
Trump, no doubt, prefers fighters who don’t lose title bouts.
Ultimately, Covington is a fighter who went for it in a big way, Sonnen without the charisma and winking charm. Like Chael, his greatest moment came in defeat, nearly pulling out a victory against an elite opponent before running out of the arena in disgrace. Unlike Chael, he isn’t articulate enough to parlay the gimmick into something more.
This was as good as it gets. Peak Covington, it turns out, is hardly Hall-of-Fame worthy—an ugly press conference insult, a one-sided loss, and a post-fight promo greeted with disdain and boos by his own public.
You can’t say he didn’t deserve it.
A lot of you are probably saying this column is mean. That I shouldn't kick Colby when he's down. And, as a general rule, I agree. A man earns credit for setting foot under the bright lights and testing his mettle. I respect fighters generally for the risks they take in such a public sphere. But not Colby. He deserves this and more as the biggest loser in UFC history.
Jonathan Snowden is a long-time combat sports journalist. His books include Total MMA, Shooters and Shamrock: The World’s Most Dangerous Man. His work has appeared in USA Today, Bleacher Report, Fox Sports and The Ringer. Subscribe to this newsletter to keep up with his latest work.