Opinion: #FreeNickDiaz and You, a Comprehensive Guide

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We are headed into a weekend in which two of the world’s biggest combat sports promotions, Bellator MMA and Glory, are collaborating to produce a large-scale, televised card featuring both MMA in a cage and kickboxing inside a ring, all at the SAP Center in San Jose, Calif. The card includes a four-man, one-night MMA tournament and a show that harkens back directly to Japan’s MMA boom by taking its “Dynamite” title straight from the landmark 2002 link-up between Pride Fighting Championships and K-1; and let us not forget, it comes on a weekend with no Ultimate Fighting Championship event. It seems hard to believe that I wouldn’t dedicate a Friday column to some facet of that endeavor.

However, this is 2015, and the Nevada Athletic Commission has gone nuclear insane, nuclear dangerous. Specifically, Nick Diaz’s unconscionable five-year suspension and $165,000 fine handed down Monday by the NAC has completely overshadowed the hype for the Bellator-Glory shebang on Saturday. It must be a cruel irony for Bellator frontman Scott Coker, the promoter who most formatively helped mold Diaz into a surprisingly popular cult hero under the Strikeforce banner years ago.

Yet here we are. One highly suspect “failed” drug test for Diaz after his UFC 183 bout with Anderson Silva in January -- Diaz’s third in the state of Nevada -- and MMA’s foremost and only real discussion is about Nevada’s insanity. In my 18 years as an MMA observer and near decade covering the sport for some semblance of a living, I cannot recall a single regulatory decision regarding MMA that has produced such a near-unanimous, reflexively venomous response against the overseeing agency.

We’ve seen so many missteps on the regulatory front in recent memory, specifically in the state of Nevada, and we haven’t even completed 75 percent of the calendar year. This same outfit unnecessarily, imprudently tested Jon Jones for cocaine out-of-competition earlier this year and then had the guile to release that incredibly private, immaterial information to the media; and yet, that incident barely even registers at this point, given the ongoing psychodrama of the NAC.

In response to the NAC’s draconian punishment, and perhaps inspired by the political season, fight folks have become advocates. #FreeNickDiaz is one of the more appropriate MMA advocacy hashtags I’ve encountered, and there’s even a White House petition that as of this writing has nearly 37,000 signatures, in an effort to have the federal government look into Nevada’s misdeed. Unsurprisingly, I’ve been hit with emails, tweets and calls on radio regarding the same question, more or less: What can I do to help Nick Diaz?

The stakes are high, morality is in question, facts are in dispute and we’re in the midst of a confusing time. Therefore, here is everything you need to know about how you can help #FreeNickDiaz.

Hold up. I hate Nick Diaz and don’t think he should be free. He’s an unrepentant, multiple-time offender who has flaunted his ability to smoke weed and not get caught, despite being caught three times. Why should anyone want to #FreeNickDiaz?

Because this is not actually about Diaz. This is about the most powerful and influential athletic commission using its authority to punish an athlete while showing overwhelmingly transparent vindictiveness in doing so. Furthermore, the nature of the NAC’s sham prosecution and decision to not address Diaz’s curious “positive” test -- How does he pass the first and third tests and fail only the second test to a surprising degree, and why was it the only test sent to a lab not accredited by the World Anti-Doping Agency? -- undermines the very idea of him having a third positive test at all. If the second test is in fact a screw-up, and it legitimately looks like it might be, he should be free anyway.

However, let’s assume for the sake of philosophical argument that Diaz actually got blazed on fight night, somehow beat the first and third tests while flunking the second and, in fact, had “cheated.” The very prescribed punishment for his act, per the NAC’s own guidelines in May, is a three-year suspension. Not only did the commission throw the book at him to a literally unprecedented degree, but it did so under the childish guise of “disrespecting” the commission. This is the same regulatory body that gave Silva a slap on the wrist for his preposterous “clear liquids, blue vials” defense and previously signed off on unrepentant cheat Vitor Belfort fighting in the state -- the same Belfort who violated an NAC suspension by fighting in England in 2007 while suspended for flunking a steroid test. Let’s not even get started on Pat Lundvall trying to sweet talk admitted steroid cheat and liar Chael Sonnen into taking an advisory role with the commission.

Again, this is not about Diaz. This is about unelected government officials trying to play God and taking out their personal feelings on an athlete -- and a citizen. Diaz helped author part of this fate by putting himself in this position, but even those who fail to help themselves can be victims. This time, it was Diaz, but next time, it could be your favorite fighter that commissioners Lundvall or Francisco Aguilar decide is a disrespectful wretch to be made an example of.

OK, but don’t you think you and other journalists are breaking the tenets of your job by openly advocating for Diaz on this topic?

Again, it’s not about Diaz. What made this NAC hearing such shocking, compelling viewing was how obvious the commissioners’ personal contempt was for Diaz and the extent to which it influenced proceedings. The commission -- which features practicing lawyers like Lundvall and Aguilar acting as though they were auditioning to be judges in some sort of reality show -- attempted to dress down Diaz’s attorney, Lucas Middlebrook, for having the audacity to defend his client.

NSAC's Francisco Aguilar and Anthony Marnell mock Middlebrook's objection. "Did you forget your black robe?" http://t.co/OcuUPdAR8v

— caposa (@GrabakaHitman) September 15, 2015

At one point in the hearing, after forcing Diaz to plead the Fifth Amendment to 27 excruciating questions in an attempt to embarrass him, Lundvall suggested that the commission could infer a negative response to the questions from his refusal to answer. If you can read that and not be upset by its implication, you either read the sentence incorrectly or you’re a moron. I repeat: There is a government body that makes important, resonant decisions regarding the professional and private lives of athletes (see: citizens) that does not care about their rights.

If you’re reading this, you probably enjoy prizefighting. If you enjoy prizefighting, you should be startled and galvanized by the fact that these people are behind the curtain of the world’s most important sanctioning body in, like it or not, the world’s fight capital.

What about me? I love Nick Diaz. What can I do to help this man?

Go through proper channels. Have you already signed the petition? It seems it might actually hit the necessary goal of 100,000 signatures by the Oct. 14 deadline and every signature helps. Use the proper contact info for the commissioners, fill up their inbox with thoughtful-but-incisive commentaries that let them know of your philosophical disapproval. Likewise with their voicemails, as they really hate that. Don’t hesitate to hit up Nevada Governor Brian Sandoval, either. He appoints these folks and could theoretically axe ’em, too.

Creativity never hurt, either. The MMA community is not that large. If you’re a bored, rich money mark who cares about civil liberties, hit up the law offices of Seham, Seham, Meltz and Petersen, ask for Lucas Middlebrook and let the homie know you want to donate to the legal fund for Diaz’s forthcoming civil suit, which will be undeniably costly and time-consuming. Start a Kickstarter for this man if you're so inclined. If you’re the intrepid mind and spirit that can research and write a mind-blowing, number-crunching, illuminating essay detailing the legitimate feasibility of a federal athletic commission, do it.

Why don’t you do it?

I’m poor and I’m stupid. I’m sorry, though.

I love Nick Diaz, but I’m on the UFC roster. What can I do?

Follow in the steps of the sport’s biggest star, Ronda Rousey, who stepped up to the plate like a true champion and excoriated the commission. I understand and appreciate that not everyone can dare to rile up the UFC by going after its home-base commission, the same commission on which UFC big don Lorenzo Fertitta once served. Fortunately, some can.

Conor McGregor, you’ve taken a shine to Las Vegas. Surely you care about the politics, if you want to be the guy headlining mega-spectacles in Sin City; or, maybe you’re a fighter who takes it to the next level and refuses to fight in Las Vegas, like Henry Cejudo. Sure, Cejudo is an undefeated Olympic gold medalist whose major promotional potential resides more in Mexico, but if even a couple dozen non-star fighters decided to opt against fighting in the state, it would complicate things for matchmakers Joe Silva and Sean Shelby considerably and make the reaction against the commission’s behavior felt on another level.

Well, I’m a fighter, but I don’t really agree with smoking weed and don’t particularly sympathize with Diaz. I’m clean and I’m not so worried about what happens to cheaters.

Like I said, it could still be you. Diaz was punished under the guide of a highly suspect test and then got crucified because the individuals on the commission don’t like him and felt affronted by him and his attorney. These aren’t just the folks guiding your drug testing; they’re making wide-ranging decisions about combat sports. You don’t have to be a pothead to appreciate the arrogant tyranny on display here. Just look at Mr. Cleaver over here:

Not a fan of his antics or weed use but 5 years is fucked up. https://t.co/KelX9rcTOD

— Demetrious Johnson (@MightyMouseUFC) September 16, 2015

Whether you’re a fighter or not, smoke pot or not, think it should be tested for or not, your particular moral alignment shouldn’t matter on the issue. If the test itself is flawed, if the commission refuses to defend its claim while simultaneously showing outright contempt for athletes and if the agency in turn prescribes unusual, unprecedented punishment while clearly being influenced by that contempt, then due process is a complete farce. This should alarm you.

I’m famous but not really part of the MMA landscape. Can I help?

Yes, silly. Let’s set aside Joe Rogan’s obvious affiliation with MMA for a moment. You think when he does “The Joe Rogan Experience” and rants about how Diaz got “[expletive] raw” by the commission, he isn’t reaching and influencing an audience that might not otherwise give a damn? Rogan’s got a whole fanbase that couldn’t be bothered with MMA, but now it’s hip to the fact that the world’s most powerful athletic commission is also a gong show.

You think when pro-wrestling personalities like Paul Heyman and Jim Ross riff on the injustice it isn’t doing its part to influence, just because they’re hitting pro-wrestling heads who might have zero interest in MMA? You’re wrong, and let’s not forget Diaz’s homie, sometimes training partner and occasional “Iron Chef America” judge:

By the way... @nickdiaz209 getting suspended for 5 years for smoking weed is the dumbest shit Ive ever heard! Wtf?!!! Seriously! Wtf?!!

— Dave Bautista (@DaveBautista) September 17, 2015

This is all well and good, but shouldn’t the UFC be doing something, anything here? They’re his promoter, and the commission in their backyard is acting this way.

I can understand and appreciate Zuffa’s decision to not get embroiled in the matter from a deeply political angle. As mentioned, Fertitta used to be on this same commission, it’s the UFC's backyard and the company would never want to create the appearance of attacking regulators, given its espoused love of “running toward regulation.” However, the UFC has issued perfunctory statements on all sorts of matters akin to this, from Silva’s hearing last month to Jose Aldo’s shambolic Brazilian drug test prior to UFC 189. The UFC isn’t compelled to give a statement, but certainly it would adhere to its prior established form and satisfy those who demand a comment from the promotion.

Realistically, the UFC can’t do a lot with Diaz. Any recourse for Diaz will be slow, and his civil battle will be costly should he vigorously pursue it. It’s nice to imagine a world where the UFC could pay him a monthly salary to just sit around and train jiu-jitsu in Stockton, Calif., but that’s potential friction if he uses that money to fight the commission in court. If at the end of the day Diaz feels a protracted legal battle isn’t in his personal or financial best interest, the most sensible thing for him to do would be to ask for a complete UFC release, so he could go fight abroad for top dollar, wasting cans in front of One Championship crowds, or perhaps Arab sheikhs or Russian warlords. If all Diaz wants to do is fight for money, the UFC should at least be human and let him pursue that.

If you think these commissioners are being driven by ego, isn’t the UFC broadcasting these hearings on Fight Pass part of the problem?

I’ve heard this from fans and media members alike. Perhaps Nevada’s athletic commissioners wouldn’t be cracking so wise and acting so juvenile if they weren’t appealing to the camera’s presence. However, if the slightest hint of an audience turns a panel of accomplished, adult professionals serving as government actors into a bunch of petulant children, that is a problem in and of itself. If casting a light on the commission causes its commissioners to act even more irrationally, it is only a further argument for streaming the hearings on Fight Pass. Why would you ever want to bury your head in the sand on a topic like this?

The UFC broadcasting and continuing to broadcast the NAC hearings on Fight Pass is one of the most powerful tools the promotion can use to quietly but surely effect some change. The fact is, before the UFC started streaming these things, most diehard, hardcore, Twitter- and forum-active MMA fans had never seen Skip Avansino’s face or heard Lundvall’s “Do you understand English?” routine. These people constitute the most powerful regulatory force in combat sports, and up until months ago, prizefighting fans had little insight into who they were, what their conduct was like or what surreal shams their hearings can be.

Sunlight is the best disinfectant and UFC Fight Pass has become that crucial window that can finally provide a clear look and shine light on Nevada’s athletic commission. I know it sounds crazy, but these are lunatic times, times when the remorseless villain becomes the tragic hero in need of savior when it turns out that our watchmen were the monsters all along.