marcelt
13-06-2009, 00:25
THE HARI EFFECT Birth of the Anti-Hero
By Michael Schiavello
What do you make of Badr Hari? K-1's English language commentator MICHAEL SCHIAVELLO takes a look at the sport's troubled genius - a man you either love or hate but will tune in to watch!
Watching the 2008 K-1 season unfold was like watching your favorite television show, laced with twists, turns, upsets, heartbreak and a cliffhanger of an ending that has fans worldwide chomping at the bit for Season 2009.
Like any good drama fans embraced the heroes of the series - Bonjasky, Texeira, Karaev, Aerts, Saki - as fighters who displayed aesthetic beauty of technique, guts, intestinal fortitude and true budo spirit. They found fighters to dislike such as Musashi for his lackluster performances against opponents who wouldn't have beaten him 18 months ago and the overly dominant Semmy Schilt, who even as a three-time Grand Prix champion failed to endear himself to fans on a personal level.
However by 10pm on December 6, 2008, in a last minute twist that M. Night Shyamalan could not have penned, K-1's true anti-hero was born: Badr Hari. After a torrid start to his K-1 career in which he infamously began a press conference street fight in New Zealand (2006) and busted up backstage equipment in a post-fight tantrum in Osaka (2006), Badr Hari's quieter, matured approach to K-1 life since winning the world heavyweight title in Honolulu 2007 lulled most every fan into thinking Hari had expelled his demons.
However in an eye-popping twist comparable to Verbal Kent transforming into the uber-villain Keyser Soze at the end of The Usual Suspects, it took two illegal punches and one unforgettable stomp of his foot on a downed Remy Bonjasky for Hari to be inducted into the Hall of Shame as the first fighter ever disqualified from a K-1 Grand Prix final.
It is said there is a fine line between genius and insanity. Unfortunately within Badr Hari's wealth of in-ring genius, it took just one moment of insanity to forever taint his career. Like French footballer Zinedine Zidane's illegal headbutt to the chest of Marco Materazzi in the final of the 2006 World Cup, or SuperBrat John McEnroe's expulsion from the 1990 Australian Open for intimidating a lines woman and smashing a racket, Badr Hari's foot stomp will forever shadow his career despite what accolades the brilliant Moroccan will achieve in years to come.
I maintain that Hari is the most naturally gifted fighter I have ever seen and presents a perplexing conundrum for K-1. On one hand he brought disrepute to the world's leading fight brand and made a streetfight of the brand's biggest match, for which he was duly disciplined, being fined Grand Prix purse and stripped of the heavyweight title. While some fans call for harsher punishment the fact is that K-1 needs Badr Hari. Hari is the archetypal Generation Y fighter: unique, loud and confident that he can tear through the opposition with more dramatic flair than anyone else in the sport's history. Just as Peter Aerts epitomized Generation X by headkicking his way through the 1990s in devastating fashion (including his still record 6:43 victory in the 1998 Grand Prix) so Hari is the headkicker of Generation Y, with an ability to not only knock out opponents but also obliterate them in highlight reel fashion. Hari himself is aware of the comparisons between himself and a young Aerts. The Moroccan has said on more than one occasion that he wants to bring the Golden Years of K-1 back to the sport, recalling the heady days when as a kid he would watch his idols Aerts, Hoost, Hug, Greco and Bernardo hunt for knockouts from the opening bell. Indeed it may be his disdain for slow-starting, defensive-natured fighters that led to Hari's stomp in the Grand Prix Final. He gave no respect for Bonjasky's cover-and-counter style but got on his knees and bowed in worship to Peter Aerts after dismantling Aerts in their quarter final (a gesture sadly overlooked in the brouhaha surrounding the final).
My verbal-sparring partner Mike Kogan, from FEG USA summed up the Hari effect perfectly during our broadcast of the K-1 Grand Prix when he said upon Hari's entrance in the quarter final: "Whether you love him or hate him you're going to have an opinion of Badr Hari."
Hari is K-1's Kurt Cobain, Mike Tyson, John McEnroe and Diego Maradona: an artist who blazes brightly but can darken just as quick. His stoppages of Errol Zimmerman, Glaube Feitosa, Domagoj Ostajic, Hong Mann Choi and Ray Sefo in 2008 were all acts of brutal beauty appreciated and applauded by fight fans the same way a movie-goer ovates Orson Welles's Foster Kane or Marlon Brando's Terry Malloy. Indeed in comparing Hari to a similarly troubled genius in the late actor Marlon Brando I am reminded of an article by Richard Schickel in TIME who wrote in a story entitled ‘Hostage of his Own Genius': For an important time in his life - and ours - Marlon Brando was touched by genius, by which we mean that he did things in his art that were unprecedented, unduplicable and, finally, inexplicable.
Likewise, Hari does things unprecedented, unduplicable and inexplicable. This, in short, is the Hari Effect. You never quite know where a Badr Hari fight is going to take you. Watching him is like being drugged. Let his fights consume you and you're guaranteed a roller coaster of incredible highs and the very real chance of soul crunching lows. In his 18 K-1 fights he has never produced a dull moment; only two fights going the distance, the other 16 ending in Hari knocking out his opponent in ridiculously stupendous fashion (see Stefan Leko spinning heel kick KO in 2005; Ruslan Karaev single right cross in 2007; Domagoj Ostajic first punch of the fight 2008) or being knocked out in a similarly stupendous fashion (see Peter Graham breaking his jaw with 10 seconds remaining in their fight in 2005; see Alistair Overeem monstering him at Dynamite!! 2008).
It is the Hari Effect that has drawn a new generation of fans to K-1. In a day and age where efficiency and instant gratification is sought in all aspects of life, Hari delivers on both fronts. His fights are quick, nasty and so chock full of action that one dares not blink for fear of missing a Hari highlight reel shot.
I have witnessed Hari single-handedly make K-1 converts of my friends. A couple of weeks ago I showed the K-1 Grand Prix to two friends who had never seen K-1 action before. One of them is a flight attendant and the other an architect: neither a fight fan. As the action and drama of the Grand Prix played, I watched as my friends jumped out of their seats, cheered at the top of their lungs and pumped their fists into the air every time Badr Hari landed one of his salvos. When Hari stopped Aerts, my friend the architect turned to me and said, "This guy is wicked!" When Hari knocked out Zimmerman, my friend the flight attendant jumped up and down and said, "Oh my God! Fucking amazing!" Then an interesting thing happened. When Hari was disqualified in the final, my two friends both looked at each other in disappointment then turned to me and said: "Can you get us Badr Hari t-shirts when you next go to Japan?"
"You don't want Remy t-shirts?" I offered. "After all, he is the champion."
"He's the champion but Hari is the fucking bomb," said the architect.
"He's boss," said the flight attendant. "The guy's a fucking star! I'm a medium size t-shirt by the way."
"I'm a large," said the architect.
And that, in short, is the Hari effect. The madness, the mania ... and the merchandise!
By Michael Schiavello
What do you make of Badr Hari? K-1's English language commentator MICHAEL SCHIAVELLO takes a look at the sport's troubled genius - a man you either love or hate but will tune in to watch!
Watching the 2008 K-1 season unfold was like watching your favorite television show, laced with twists, turns, upsets, heartbreak and a cliffhanger of an ending that has fans worldwide chomping at the bit for Season 2009.
Like any good drama fans embraced the heroes of the series - Bonjasky, Texeira, Karaev, Aerts, Saki - as fighters who displayed aesthetic beauty of technique, guts, intestinal fortitude and true budo spirit. They found fighters to dislike such as Musashi for his lackluster performances against opponents who wouldn't have beaten him 18 months ago and the overly dominant Semmy Schilt, who even as a three-time Grand Prix champion failed to endear himself to fans on a personal level.
However by 10pm on December 6, 2008, in a last minute twist that M. Night Shyamalan could not have penned, K-1's true anti-hero was born: Badr Hari. After a torrid start to his K-1 career in which he infamously began a press conference street fight in New Zealand (2006) and busted up backstage equipment in a post-fight tantrum in Osaka (2006), Badr Hari's quieter, matured approach to K-1 life since winning the world heavyweight title in Honolulu 2007 lulled most every fan into thinking Hari had expelled his demons.
However in an eye-popping twist comparable to Verbal Kent transforming into the uber-villain Keyser Soze at the end of The Usual Suspects, it took two illegal punches and one unforgettable stomp of his foot on a downed Remy Bonjasky for Hari to be inducted into the Hall of Shame as the first fighter ever disqualified from a K-1 Grand Prix final.
It is said there is a fine line between genius and insanity. Unfortunately within Badr Hari's wealth of in-ring genius, it took just one moment of insanity to forever taint his career. Like French footballer Zinedine Zidane's illegal headbutt to the chest of Marco Materazzi in the final of the 2006 World Cup, or SuperBrat John McEnroe's expulsion from the 1990 Australian Open for intimidating a lines woman and smashing a racket, Badr Hari's foot stomp will forever shadow his career despite what accolades the brilliant Moroccan will achieve in years to come.
I maintain that Hari is the most naturally gifted fighter I have ever seen and presents a perplexing conundrum for K-1. On one hand he brought disrepute to the world's leading fight brand and made a streetfight of the brand's biggest match, for which he was duly disciplined, being fined Grand Prix purse and stripped of the heavyweight title. While some fans call for harsher punishment the fact is that K-1 needs Badr Hari. Hari is the archetypal Generation Y fighter: unique, loud and confident that he can tear through the opposition with more dramatic flair than anyone else in the sport's history. Just as Peter Aerts epitomized Generation X by headkicking his way through the 1990s in devastating fashion (including his still record 6:43 victory in the 1998 Grand Prix) so Hari is the headkicker of Generation Y, with an ability to not only knock out opponents but also obliterate them in highlight reel fashion. Hari himself is aware of the comparisons between himself and a young Aerts. The Moroccan has said on more than one occasion that he wants to bring the Golden Years of K-1 back to the sport, recalling the heady days when as a kid he would watch his idols Aerts, Hoost, Hug, Greco and Bernardo hunt for knockouts from the opening bell. Indeed it may be his disdain for slow-starting, defensive-natured fighters that led to Hari's stomp in the Grand Prix Final. He gave no respect for Bonjasky's cover-and-counter style but got on his knees and bowed in worship to Peter Aerts after dismantling Aerts in their quarter final (a gesture sadly overlooked in the brouhaha surrounding the final).
My verbal-sparring partner Mike Kogan, from FEG USA summed up the Hari effect perfectly during our broadcast of the K-1 Grand Prix when he said upon Hari's entrance in the quarter final: "Whether you love him or hate him you're going to have an opinion of Badr Hari."
Hari is K-1's Kurt Cobain, Mike Tyson, John McEnroe and Diego Maradona: an artist who blazes brightly but can darken just as quick. His stoppages of Errol Zimmerman, Glaube Feitosa, Domagoj Ostajic, Hong Mann Choi and Ray Sefo in 2008 were all acts of brutal beauty appreciated and applauded by fight fans the same way a movie-goer ovates Orson Welles's Foster Kane or Marlon Brando's Terry Malloy. Indeed in comparing Hari to a similarly troubled genius in the late actor Marlon Brando I am reminded of an article by Richard Schickel in TIME who wrote in a story entitled ‘Hostage of his Own Genius': For an important time in his life - and ours - Marlon Brando was touched by genius, by which we mean that he did things in his art that were unprecedented, unduplicable and, finally, inexplicable.
Likewise, Hari does things unprecedented, unduplicable and inexplicable. This, in short, is the Hari Effect. You never quite know where a Badr Hari fight is going to take you. Watching him is like being drugged. Let his fights consume you and you're guaranteed a roller coaster of incredible highs and the very real chance of soul crunching lows. In his 18 K-1 fights he has never produced a dull moment; only two fights going the distance, the other 16 ending in Hari knocking out his opponent in ridiculously stupendous fashion (see Stefan Leko spinning heel kick KO in 2005; Ruslan Karaev single right cross in 2007; Domagoj Ostajic first punch of the fight 2008) or being knocked out in a similarly stupendous fashion (see Peter Graham breaking his jaw with 10 seconds remaining in their fight in 2005; see Alistair Overeem monstering him at Dynamite!! 2008).
It is the Hari Effect that has drawn a new generation of fans to K-1. In a day and age where efficiency and instant gratification is sought in all aspects of life, Hari delivers on both fronts. His fights are quick, nasty and so chock full of action that one dares not blink for fear of missing a Hari highlight reel shot.
I have witnessed Hari single-handedly make K-1 converts of my friends. A couple of weeks ago I showed the K-1 Grand Prix to two friends who had never seen K-1 action before. One of them is a flight attendant and the other an architect: neither a fight fan. As the action and drama of the Grand Prix played, I watched as my friends jumped out of their seats, cheered at the top of their lungs and pumped their fists into the air every time Badr Hari landed one of his salvos. When Hari stopped Aerts, my friend the architect turned to me and said, "This guy is wicked!" When Hari knocked out Zimmerman, my friend the flight attendant jumped up and down and said, "Oh my God! Fucking amazing!" Then an interesting thing happened. When Hari was disqualified in the final, my two friends both looked at each other in disappointment then turned to me and said: "Can you get us Badr Hari t-shirts when you next go to Japan?"
"You don't want Remy t-shirts?" I offered. "After all, he is the champion."
"He's the champion but Hari is the fucking bomb," said the architect.
"He's boss," said the flight attendant. "The guy's a fucking star! I'm a medium size t-shirt by the way."
"I'm a large," said the architect.
And that, in short, is the Hari effect. The madness, the mania ... and the merchandise!