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The path from middleweight to welterweight has been a treacherous one as of late.

In recent months, a number of highly regarded fighters -- Jake Shields, Yoshihiro Akiyama and Nate Marquardt all spring immediately to mind -- have attempted the cut from 185 to 170 pounds and for very disparate reasons, none have hit the jackpot like we assumed they might.

At this point, any one of those guys could probably tell Demian Maia a few cautionary tales.

While the individual experiences of Shields, Akiyama and Marquardt don’t pertain specifically to Maia, the Brazilian jiu-jitsu specialist should be warned after announcing on Twitter this week he’ll move from middle to welter: No matter who you are -- a champion in his prime, a high-dollar international free agent or a former top five stalwart -- this particular jump is far from a sure thing.

Not that Maia really has any other choice. He’s essentially found himself chased out of the 185-pound division after going 1-2 in his last three fights. His recent loss to Chris Weidman knocked him out of the ESPN.com middleweight power rankings and, though he once challenged Anderson Silva for the title, he hasn’t beaten a top-tier opponent since his submission victory over Chael Sonnen at UFC 95 back in 2009.

Oddly, Maia’s mediocre 4-4 mark during the last three years has coincided with a noticeable professional evolution. He’s received near unilateral praise for the obvious improvements he’s made in his standup game. He’s certainly more dangerous now than when he dropped fights to Silva at UFC 112 and to Marquardt at UFC 102, but so far, the proof hasn’t shown up where it counts the most: his win-loss record.

Now, eight months shy of turning 35, Maia seeks the instant coat of paint and spit shine that dropping a weight division can provide. It's true, when a former top contender steps down a class we have a tendency to look at him with fresh eyes.

The trouble is, he’ll enter a welterweight division that has never been more competitive and which boasts a current crop of contenders to rival even the shark tank of the lightweight ranks. Does the prospect of running up against guys like Jake Ellenberger, Nick Diaz or Johny Hendricks make 170 pounds seem preferable to 185?

Probably not. In fact, it might even be worse for him. The whole division is effectively on hold until Georges St. Pierre returns from knee surgery and with Carlos Condit, Diaz and Ellenberger already in the pole position, it’ll be a long wait in very dangerous territory before Maia even has a chance to earn himself a shot at welterweight gold.

If anything, this is probably a lateral move, and one he pretty much had to make. Moving down is just what you do when you feel like you’ve warn out your welcome in the place where you started. For most guys, like Akiyama, it’s just way of buying yourself a couple more fights.

Win one or two, then lose one, mumble something about how the weight cut takes too much out of you and move back up. Such is the cycle of life in MMA.

Word to the wise, though: Be careful. Lately, the move from welterweight to middleweight hasn't been a safe bet, either. Just ask Anthony Johnson.

Since we’re in the business of musing over the clay perceptions of casual fans, you have to wonder how lay viewers took in the Demian Maia/Chris Weidman fight that opened a national television broadcast on Saturday night.

For instance, if you’d tuned in and saw Maia gassing though parts of the second round and the entirety of the third, you might have thought it was he who had to cut 31 pounds in 11 days to make weight. You might have also suspected that Maia’s only chance of beating Weidman was a simple puncher’s. After all, he was winging that left with hopes of a homerun.

Maia looked like a one-dimensional fighter, whose single dimension wasn’t all that imposing.

Now, if you are anything more than the casual fan, the performance against Weidman begged the question that’s been looming since the 21-second knockout at the hands of Nate Marquardt in 2009 -- what happened to the Maia of old? Who is this imposter that walks out to “Vida Bandida?” Wasn’t Maia the best Brazilian jiu-jitsu practitioner in the game, who for a while there people began referring to as Royce Gracie 2.0?

Maybe the hackers who have plagued the UFC all week have greater reach than we know. Maybe they have the ability to hack into UFC fighters now, and redirect them from world-class jiu-jitsu players into vague kickboxers. Or maybe Maia was hurt, or sick, or confused. It’s possible he was disenchanted that Michael Bisping became Chris Weidman. It must be something, but the former No. 1 contender has gone from being 5-0 in the UFC with five ridiculously fluid submissions to 9-4 in the UFC with five ridiculously fluid submissions.

It started by getting knocked out by Marquardt in Portland at UFC 102, and since then in seven fights he’s gone the distance seven times. In all of them we’ve been applauding the slow evolution of his stand-up. Somewhere along the way Maia took criticism of his stand-up to heart, and became obsessed with doing something about it. This seemed obvious. When he surprised Mark Munoz a couple of times at UFC 131, we began to think him more than capable on the feet. And he is.

But the problem is Maia has forgotten who he is. A timely reminder on Fox would have been a welcoming relief, but the nonpareil jitz master has changed focus.

It used to be that if you went to the floor with Maia it became a matter of time until you tapped. Chael Sonnen, Ed Herman, Jason MacDonald, Nate Quarry -- these guys caught hell for mistakes, for over-aggressiveness, for simply finding themselves on the ground. If Maia was on his back, he would sweep. He was mean in a scramble. He was quick to snatch limbs. If he got your back, it was a matter of time. Maia made guys feel paranoid about being on the ground. He wasn’t just good at triangles, he was a Bermuda triangle, where contenders -- wrestlers, boxers and otherwise -- disappeared.

Now Maia’s jiu-jitsu has gone AWOL, and it’s curious. Even the threat of it has vanished.

Against the wrestler Weidman, Maia was officially 0-7 on takedowns, but they all played out as half commitments. Truth is, it didn’t look like he really wanted to go to the ground. Weidman, also a solid BJJ player, wasn’t afraid to take it there, and did so a couple of times late in rounds. For a jiu-jitsu superior like Maia, who had uncanny Octagon control in his arsenal at one point in the career, it’s become OK to allow opponents to dictate terms. Which is not OK for sustaining a career.

Weidman did it. And so did Munoz. Against Jorge Santiago at UFC 136, Maia had things in his realm but settled on ground-and-pound. Maia at 34 looks less wise than the one who fought at 30. This is not an ideal trajectory.

What happened to the quiet contortionist that capitalized on every misstep? In those first five UFC fights, Maia took home "submission of the night" honors four times. That’s a lot of extra cash. Since then he has not been awarded a single end of the night bonus. If his stand-up has improved, that’s great; but all new elements should be working toward the one element that made him special -- his jiu-jitsu. Otherwise, the admission seems to be that either people have caught up to him, or that jiu-jitsu and Maia are no longer on speaking terms, or that he doesn’t trust jiu-jitsu to get the job done anymore.

Whatever the case with Maia is, it’s mysterious. And you get the feeling that if he doesn’t rediscover his roots soon, he’ll be done in the UFC.

Amid all of the fallout this week from the tepid results of the UFC’s second live show on network television -- where many of the criticisms are warranted and many are not -- it’s somehow fitting that the event’s most impressive performance came from a guy who didn’t even win his fight.

Arguably only Michael Bisping emerged from Saturday night’s largely underwhelming UFC on Fox 2 main card looking better than when he entered. By dropping a tight decision loss to top middleweight contender Chael Sonnen, Bisping actually improved his stock while many of the other the marquee names could merely tread water or -- in some cases -- took steps backward in the eyes of hardcore fans and MMA-centric media types.

Naturally, like most everything in the fight game, this had more to do with our own expectations than anything else.

As more than a 3-to-1 underdog headed into the fight, most observers thought Bisping would get crushed by Sonnen. We’d just seen the former Oregon wrestler tear through what seemed like a bigger, perhaps more dangerous version of Bisping in Brian Stann at UFC 136 and, on paper, we didn’t see any way the Brit could ward off Sonnen’s smothering takedowns and top control over three rounds.

In the end, Bisping didn’t pull off an upset, but he sure did a lot better than we anticipated.

While he couldn’t totally prevent Sonnen from taking him to mat, Bisping didn’t look out of his league, either. He proved surprisingly capable at using the fence to quickly get back to his feet and in the standup exchanges, he touched up his hard-charging opponent with crisp, if ultimately ineffectual punches.

Perhaps most shocking was the way Bisping afforded himself in the clinch. He held his own when Sonnen tried to muscle in close to him and even controlled some of the action when they locked up against the chain link -- though not as much as the UFC broadcast team would have you believe, especially in the first round.

Heck, some observers even thought Bisping won the bout, though a second viewing of the fight confirms that a 29-28 verdict in favor of Sonnen was probably the right one. In the end, the American eked out Rounds 2 and 3, though in total the fight was far closer than his unanimous decision win might otherwise let on. That one judge scored it 30-27 for Sonnen even seems unconscionable, as Bisping clearly controlled the second stanza.

All told, it was a great performance from a guy who has been dogged by skeptics and naysayers ever since winning Season 3 of “The Ultimate Fighter” reality show back in 2006. Even in defeat, Bisping moved up two slots on the ESPN.com middleweight Power Rankings -- from No. 8 to No. 6 -- and now appears well positioned to take on another high-caliber opponent in his next fight.

Perhaps a returning Mark Munoz (No. 4) might even make sense for him, after the man originally slated to meet Sonnen at this event returns from a minor elbow injury. If not Munoz, then maybe the winner of fifth-ranked Yushin Okami’s upcoming UFC 144 tangle with Tim Boetsch or newly minted Top 10er Chris Weidman, who debuted at No. 9 this week after turning in Saturday night’s second-best showing by defeating Demian Maia on short notice.

We are often told there is no such thing as a good loss, but Bisping puts that adage to the test this week. While he overachieved, Sonnen, Maia, Rashad Evans and Phil Davis -- much like the overall UFC broadcast itself -- didn’t quite live up to our expectations.

As good as the UFC on Fox 2 lineup still is, especially considering it’s free, make no mistake -- it’s not as good as the original.

Let’s start with the co-main. Due to an injured right elbow, a surging Mark Munoz was forced to withdraw from his top contender bout against Chael Sonnen. In his place steps Michael Bisping -- a worthy replacement, having won five of his last six.

The focus, considering it’s Sonnen and Bisping, was immediately on the epic trash talk that was bound to follow. Nobody knew exactly who would say what, but we assumed it would be the stuff of legends.

As it turns out, though, the talk between these two never really got going -- certainly not to the amount it would have had this fight been promoted for months. What we are left with now is an unfortunately lopsided matchup, at least on paper. Whereas a fight between Munoz and Sonnen featured a lot of unanswered questions, the reworked one features a five-to-one favorite in Sonnen.

I feel obligated to state the mandatory line, “It’s MMA and anything can happen." Yes, it is possible Bisping stuns Sonnen in Chicago. But besides a puncher’s chance, there just aren’t many areas where Bisping can win this fight. Munoz, on the other hand, would have been a legitimate challenge to Sonnen -- not just a body to throw in the cage to keep him busy as he waits for the champ.

Bisping moving to the co-main left his first dance partner, Demian Maia, in search of a new opponent. On just 11 days notice, that man turns out to be budding prospect Chris Weidman who was then, somewhat surprisingly, marked as the favorite.

I love this matchup but hate how we’re getting it. I get it. Injuries are a part of the sport and sometimes guys have to take a chance and fight on short notice or adjust to a new opponent. That doesn’t mean I like it in a fight of this magnitude.

These are two of the top guys in the division. There’s no question they deserve to fight one another, but look at the outside variables that potentially affect this outcome. Less than two weeks for Weidman to cut weight and prepare for the toughest opponent of his career. Drastic style-change for Maia, drawing a powerful wrestler with submission skills after training exclusively for an elite boxer.

At the end of the fight, part of me will wonder if the outcome would have been the same had the two prepared properly for one another. I can live with that, but again, in a fight that will go a long way in terms of sorting out the division, I’d rather not have to.

The fact the UFC was able to move things around and still produce a high-quality card in a short amount of time speaks to the depth of its roster and the professionalism of its athletes to adjust to circumstances. I still love this card. But to say it’s actually better than the original? Come on, son.

It’s been a long while since Michael Bisping was an underdog heading into a fight. In fact, the last time was back in 2009 when he fought Dan Henderson at UFC 100. On that occasion, with all the tensions of the “Ultimate Fighter 9” still playing in the shallows of public perception, the Brit showed up as a 2-to-1 dog. And even then there were a lot of people that thought Vegas was sleeping on Bisping a little bit. (By the time Henderson’s right hand sent Bisping into the twitches, the line was long forgotten).

Since then the “Count” has been the “Bully” in Joe Silva’s matchmaking. Jason Miller, Jorge Rivera, Yoshihiro Akiyama, Dan Miller and Denis Kang were all long shots to beat Bisping. Ditto Wanderlei Silva, who managed to spring the upset. For the last three years, Bisping has grown used to being the mark, not the marksman. He’s been batting down the grabbing hands of opportunists on his climb, rather than clutching at the ankles of the guys above him.

That changes in Chicago. Against Chael Sonnen -- who fell to Bisping when Mark Munoz had to pull out of his scheduled fight with bone spurs in his elbow -- he is a 4-to-1 underdog.

This is unusual terrain for Bisping. And it’s an incredible line for a guy who has won four in a row (finishing his last two). In fact, it’s the kind of line that says two things: 1) For the last three years Bisping has had a cushy schedule for a guy who considers himself “title ready,” and B) we now view Sonnen as a tyrant. In the time it’s taken Bisping to make his way up the rungs enough for a bigger challenge, Sonnen has transformed from a journeyman to a contender, from an afterthought to a showman, and from cusp prelimer to PPV headliner. He contradicts himself ruthlessly in the media, but he keeps beating guys (coldly, methodically) and came close to cashing in Silva, too. The Sonnen case is one for 18th century exorcists.

Or maybe Malcolm Gladwell.

But Bisping has always been Bisping. And to become something other than Bisping he’ll need to beat Sonnen, who also happens to be the guy he can take his cues from. Sonnen stood as a lofty underdog against Yushin Okami at UFC 104 and Nate Marquardt at UFC 109. Heading into that stretch he scored a workman-like decision over Dan Miller, and before then had lost to Demian Maia (triangle choke). So what did he do? The only thing he could. He laid the pestle down on top-ranked Okami in a fight many thought he didn’t deserve, then ransacked Marquardt for three straight rounds to the point that he suddenly looked like a real impediment for Anderson Silva.

Out of nowhere, Sonnen beat two top-end guys who were trying their damndest to get back to Silva. This time it’s Sonnen who is trying to get back to Silva (even if he says otherwise), and it’s Bisping’s chance to spoil that return trip. In other words, here’s Bisping’s chance to become Sonnen. Win it, and he’ll assuredly be an underdog in his next fight, too. That’s the goal -- Sao Paulo against longer odds still.

Yet lose, and it could be another three years before Bisping’s an underdog again, and that’s no kind of consolation.

So far, short notice has been very good to Chris Weidman.

If Weidman seems willing to roll the dice this week -- risking at least some of his stock as one of the middleweight division’s hottest prospects by agreeing to fight Demian Maia eight days from now at UFC on Fox 2 -- it may be because he’s already been so successful as a substitute.

Including the Maia bout, the two-time All-American wrestler from Hofstra University has been a replacement in three of his first four UFC appearances and to date, it’s all come up aces.

Weidman out-pointed Alessio Sakara on just two weeks’ warning in his promotional debut last March, then choked Jesse Bongfeldt at UFC 131 after taking the fight two months out when Court McGee fell to a knee injury. With a full camp under his belt for Tom Lawlor, Weidman took just 2:07 to render him unconscious via slick D’arce choke at UFC 139, pretty thoroughly establishing himself as a handful for anyone in the weight class, and under any time frame.

Now comes Maia, ESPN.com’s No. 7-ranked middleweight and submission specialist who Weidman agreed to fight live on network television next weekend after Michael Bisping unexpectedly got called up to the co-main event.

If it’s a risk, it’s clearly one the undefeated Serra-Longo fight team product thinks is worth it, and maybe he's right.

After all, Weidman is carrying on a fairly grand tradition of last minute replacements in the Octagon. It’s been a good strategic move in the past, considering the organization’s preference for fighters with an “anytime, anywhere” mentality and its photographic memory of the people who have done it favors (and, conversely, the people who have not).

A win over Maia would obviously put Weidman’s career on an even faster track, pushing him into contention for a top 10 ranking and future consideration for a fight against a contender on the order of Rousimar Palhares, Yushin Okami (who fights Tim Boetsch next month) or even Mark Munoz, when he returns from his arm injury.

Even if he comes up short, you have to believe Weidman has a fair amount of political capital built up after being so willing to answer the phone whenever UFC matchmakers call. At least within the company -- and barring a disaster -- he’s likely to retain much of his stature.

Then again, the notion that Weidman is in a no-lose situation here isn’t altogether accurate, either. Though he opened as the betting favorite once the card was reshuffled, Maia represents a significant step up in competition for him. With that comes great opportunity, but also clear risks.

Considering the circumstances, most of us will be willing to grant Weidman at least a partial pass if he loses to Maia, but some damage will still be done. As a guy whose coaches trumpeted him as a future champion before he even arrived in the Octagon, any defeat is going to have a cooling effect.

After winning three those aforementioned fights in increasingly impressive fashion during his first year with the UFC, Weidman should be a leading candidate for a breakout fighter of the year award in 2012 and that view of him would likely be dashed if he doesn’t keep winning.

Gone too would be his unblemished record. He’d need a solid performance the next time out to maintain his momentum as an up-and-comer, let alone his status as a guy nobody in the middleweight division wants to fight on short notice.

Let's be as real as it gets, since this is the Ultimate Fighting Championship we're talking about.

If any other athlete said what Rashad Evans said to Phil Davis Wednesday, it's a big story. An unfortunate one. Especially on a day like today.

But in the UFC, where the boss says what he wants when he wants, there are few things if any that qualify as beyond the pale. For good or for ill, that's simply the unvarnished reality exposed in the wake of this wild rocket ship to the top of the sporting world.

For those who missed it: The UFC held a news conference in Chicago Wednesday featuring UFC president Dana White and six fighters -- Evans, Davis, Chael Sonnen, Mark Munoz, Michael Bisping and Demian Maia -- slated to compete on the company's official start with FOX. It was a terrifically entertaining scene. Funny. Witty. Charming. Sweet, even. Evans brought his young son, who ranked only second to his dad on the day's best-dressed list, and placed him atop his lap until temptation and a microphone got the better of the lad.

Fifty minutes into a 52-minute event, Evans and Davis, light heavyweights set to square off in the main event on Jan. 28 at the United Center, began jawing at one another. It was a fan who prompted the exchange. Someone wanted to know from Evans which version -- vicious striker or controlling grappler -- he should expect to see against Davis, a NCAA Division I champion wrestler for Penn State University in 2008.

Evans happily took the bait. Davis needed to be knocked out, he said.

Not that anyone needs to be knocked out, but it was good-natured stuff. We love this. Fans beg for it. Promoters pine for it. Media loves the copy and the angles that spin out as a result. Davis smiled and came back sharply, referencing reigning UFC light heavyweight champion Jon Jones, Evans' sincerest rival, who apparently questioned his former teammate's ability to take a punch. Again, nothing wrong with that; all's fair in love and MMA.

"You'll have to find out for yourself, right?" Evans retorted.

"I was already thinking that," said Davis.

Evans, his son no longer on his lap, turned up the volume.

"I bet you won't put your hands on me," Evans said. "I bet you'll be the first one to take a shot."

They talked over each other until Evans again guaranteed Davis would be the first one to take a punch.

His reasoning: "cause I'm going to put those hands on you worse than that dude did them other kids at Penn State."

White stood between the fighters at the dais, smiling, wringing his hands and giggling. The crowd laughed, clapped and gasped, knowing full well Evans had just used Jerry Sandusky as a punchline. Davis flung his head to the table, like an ostrich, looked up and had no response.

How does one respond to something like that? A couple more questions from the audience and that was that.

Evans apparently had no idea that Sandusky was led from his home in handcuffs again on Wednesday after two more victims revealed to police horrific accounts of the former Penn State football coach's alleged sexual abuse. In the green room awaiting the mid-afternoon news conference in Chicago, Evans instead watched the sentencing of another disgraced public figure, former Illinois governor Rod Blagojevich, who received 14 years on federal corruption charges today.

I'm not suggesting Evans can't say what he said. Of course he can. The question is -- should he?

Will the UFC, as positioned by its ownership, emerge as the biggest sport in the world if its marquee fighters continue to speak on the organization's largest public stages the way Evans spoke today? Hey, they've made it this far, warts and all. Sure they have. But that was then and this is now. White suggests the first two years of the FOX deal are the most important 24 months in the history of the company. Why? People will watch like they've never watched before. That surely includes people who don't understand -- and never will understand -- the backward culture that has long existed in MMA that makes Evans' statement just another shoulder-shrug moment.

Even if it was made in jest, even if it wasn't premeditated, which Evans' publicist Jen Wenk said it wasn't, even if it was a one-time declaration that won't be uttered again during the promotion of the fight, which Wenk said it was and won't be; even if you believe it was somehow appropriate to suggest, let alone at an event attended by his own little boy, there has to be some threshold. Some crossable line.

Or can the language used from time to time by UFC fighters and management continue unabated like that rocket ship to the stratosphere of sport?

I don't know the answer. I tend to think not. But one thing seems certain: we'll eventually find out.

Demian Maia has revealed he is talking with the UFC over a possible appearance on the UFC 142 card in Brazil. More »

The UFC was initially skeptical about taking its brand back to Brazil.

As recently as mid-2010, Dana White wasn’t thrilled with the idea, saying the fight promotion would focus its international expansion efforts on potential boom markets like India, China and the Middle East instead. There was even some pie-in-the-sky talk of doing a double-secret show in Afghanistan before the UFC mentioned any serious plans of returning to Brazil for the first time since 1998.

A bit more than a year later, the world looks a whole lot different.

Junior dos Santos’ first-round victory over Cain Velasquez on Saturday night means three of the UFC’s seven champions are now Brazilian and, according to the company’s early estimates, as many as 60 million of the new champ’s countrymen tuned in to watch him fight.

If true, that number is simply staggering. You don't have to be one of the world's greatest fight promoters to know what to do next, but it doesn't hurt that the UFC has one of them on the payroll, either.

“Brazil is becoming our new Canada,” White said at the postfight media conference for UFC on Fox. “We’re going to be doing a lot of stuff in Brazil. Brazil is taking off. It’s crazy down there how popular this is becoming.”

White says the long-rumored Brazilian incarnation of “The Ultimate Fighter” will be forthcoming “immediately” and the company already had its follow up to August’s UFC 134 booked, in the form of a quick jump back to Rio de Janeiro on Jan. 14 for UFC 142.

Now it appears those two events will be the first of many happy returns.

There has been talk of doing future shows in 100,000 seat stadiums in Manaus and Sao Paolo and the company recently inked a broadcast contract with Brazil’s Rede Globo TV, the fourth-largest commercial public television network in the world. That was the deal that made it possible for those 60 million people to watch dos Santos wrap the UFC title around his waist in the first place.

Another, much smaller indicator of the sport’s success in South America’s largest country? Brazilian fighters scored big in the UFC’s first ever round of Twitter bonuses recently, with Anderson Silva, Paulo Thiago, Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira, Demian Maia and Cristiane Santos making it a clean sweep in awards for most new followers, both in sheer numbers and by percentage.

“Imagine where we’ll be in two years ...,” White said. “What we’ve seen here in the United States and everywhere else that we go is when we take [MMA] to all the different cities around Brazil, it’ll just get bigger and bigger and bigger.”

The UFC's Brazilian renaissance isn’t just financial. The country that gave birth to modern MMA’s first champion is asserting itself inside the cage too, not only through fighters like dos Santos and Silva, but with a next wave of young guns like Jose Aldo, Erick Silva, Renan Barao and Charles Oliveira.

“There’s so much talent coming out of Brazil, it’s insane,” White said. “We’ve already done all the leg work for ‘The Ultimate Fighter’ and I’m telling you guys, wait until you see the talent that comes out of this country over the next two years, it’s going to be crazy ... You’re going to see more kids training down there for mixed martial arts than soccer down there pretty soon.”

Mere hyperbole? Probably. Nonetheless, it appears the UFC may have unexpectedly found a new home away from home.

And it’s sure been a long time since anyone with the organization has said a word about China.

The problem with hype is that it’s always looking down on its subjects.

Jorge Santiago came back to the UFC with a head of steam that was created (mostly) in Japan where he won 11 of 12 fights. Only one of those went to a decision, which couldn’t help but raise the collective eyebrow at Zuffa. The UFC brought him back and fed him -- somewhat ceremoniously at first -- to its hungriest on-the-cusp contenders at 185 pounds. There was even talk that this version of Jorge Santiago could be a wildcard to challenge Anderson Silva but, you know how it is -- retrospect has a way of coloring faces.

The new Santiago, at first glance, looked remarkably like the other Santiago from his first UFC stint, the one who got knocked out by Chris Leben and Alan Belcher in 2006. He was tossed back into the Octagon with Brian Stann, who caught Santiago in the second round and then put him away with a barrage of punches. It was good enough for fight of the night honors, so there were silver linings. Even still, that familiar outcome turned the knob down from the hot talk to a “keep warm” setting.

Next thing you know, Santiago’s on the UFC 136 prelims on Oct. 8, trying to salvage his job against former No. 1 contender Demian Maia, the meanest kind of consolation. It was the quietest intrigue fight on the card, and, as it turns out, for good reason -- Maia took him down for three rounds and worked his ground-and-pound. This was a unique wrinkle for a serial jiu-jitsu player in Maia, and it was a bland enough showing on the other end of it to get Santiago axed (a second time).

Now he’s either headed to Bellator to lend a hand in challenging Hector Lombard, or back to Japan where at 31 years old he can ante up again.

In other words, we may have read (way) too much into Santiago’s return to the UFC -- but you can’t help but feel a little for him, too. Getting dealt Stann and Maia back-to-back is a tough set of circumstances.

If the UFC could have spared a Riki Fujada or a Constantinos Philippou as opponents, maybe Santiago is still around right now. Instead, he was a ramp for Stann to launch into contention, and a life preserver for Maia to stay near it, and the only thing that went on besides was our expectations getting played with a little bit.

That's not the first time it's happened, and it won't be the last.

The last time they fought on a card together, at UFC 95 in early 2009, Demian Maia had only vague notions of Junior dos Santos, and vice-versa. That night, dos Santos destroyed Stefan Struve in a 54-second knockout, and Maia needed only half a round to submit Chael Sonnen.

As is often the case in the Brazilian fight scene, it was Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira who brought the two together a few months later when Maia -- one of the best jiu-jitsu players in the game -- was looking to improve his boxing. Dos Santos had stand-up prowess, but needed experience on the floor. It became a Brazilian ying/yang, and heading into UFC 131, where both guys are slotted on the main card with pretty big stakes, the relationship continues.

“Yes, Junior’s a very good friend and a training partner,” Maia said on Tuesday from Vancouver. “But actually, I don’t box with him too much because he’s too heavy, but we do a lot of jiu-jitsu. Our coach doesn’t put us together sparring, especially as we get near the fights. I think he’s afraid I’ll get hurt because he’s much heavier than I am. But in jiu-jitsu there’s no problems because I can control the actions well, so we spar BJJ.”

Dos Santos may not spar with the much smaller middleweight, but he offers plenty of pugilistic pointers to Maia when they train in northeast Brazil. Maia’s stand-up game has improved from incrementally to drastically over the last four fights. And while just about everybody who thinks analytically wonders just how good on the ground dos Santos is -- he’s 6-0 in the UFC with four KOs -- Maia is source material on the matter.

“He picks it up very fast,” Maia said. “He’s a very talented athlete. He has like five years in combat sports, but you can tell in his boxing how fast he picks it up. Same thing with his jiu-jitsu; he picks it up very fast -- it’s impressive how fast.

“One nice thing is he doesn’t have an ego when he trains, so if he’s feeling that he has some issue in a position, whether it’s top or bottom, he puts you in that position. He doesn’t care if he gets beat. That’s very important, I think, if you want to learn Brazilian jiu-jitsu. You don’t care about the ego. He wants to learn. Even when he gets beat in a position, he doesn’t care, he wants to learn the position. That’s why I think he will be the next heavyweight champion.”

Obviously the book is out on Maia. Fighters want to avoid getting supine with him -- lest they end up like a pretzel. He faces the heavy-handed wrestler Mark Munoz this weekend and, if Munoz does the conventional play, he’ll look to engage in a stand-up battle. Meanwhile dos Santos gets Shane Carwin for the No. 1 contender spot in the heavyweight division. The presumption there is that, if one doesn’t knock out the other in short violent order, Carwin’s ace in the hole is to take matters to the ground.

Only Maia truly knows if that’s deep water for dos Santos heading into the fights.

Onetime NCAA wrestling champion Mark Munoz has a chance to solidify his place as a middleweight contender when he meets Brazilian jiu-jitsu ace Demian Maia in a featured matchup at UFC 131 on Saturday in Vancouver. Munoz, 33, holds a 5-2 mark in the UFC. More »

Three facts about the "best fighter in the world," an education brought to you courtesy of Saturday's UFC 112 event in Abu Dhabi:

1. The "best fighter in the world" will not engage a 1.5-dimensional jiu-jitsu stylist on the feet but will instead express anger and frustration at the grappler for not making it easier to assault him with fists and knees. This will remain true even when the jiu-jitsu stylist has one eye swollen shut and the desert air is so oppressive that managing a clinch or latching a submission would be nearly impossible.

2. The "best fighter in the world" has such contempt for his opponent, the spectators and his employers that he will spend time seizing and convulsing as though he were being exorcised of an evil spirit. His fans will call this "showmanship." Objective viewers will call it "annoying."

3. The "best fighter in the world" will commit the most disturbing infraction of the rules -- written or not -- in combat sports next to an outright fix: He will not fight to the best of his ability and will not attempt to win the fight at all times. Instead, he will coerce the crowd into chanting the name of a fighter sitting ringside who may or may not be his next opponent.

This is how badly Anderson Silva ruptured his reputation Saturday: He so disillusioned the audience that they began to offer vocal support for a hypothetical opponent three to six months before he would even enter the cage.

Against Demian Maia, a man whose consciousness he could easily confiscate, Silva gyrated around the mat like a spinning top and beckoned Maia to play his game.

Maia did eventually wade in, but only after 20-plus minutes of hamming. What he should've done was flop to his back and chastise Silva for not falling into his guard. It would've been just as absurd as Silva's display.

Instead, he shuffled while Silva danced, while Silva slipped into Capoeira, while Silva mimicked Royce Gracie's distinctive hands-low, push-kick-to-knee stance. Anderson Silva is of great amusement to Anderson Silva.

What we've learned in the Maia, Thales Leites and Patrick Cote bouts -- snoozers all -- is that Silva wants to play a zero-sum game of risk. His comfort level is in countering, and if a fighter refuses to cooperate, he will refuse to initiate an attack. This is an effective way of preserving brain cells but a catastrophic strategy for keeping seats filled. UFC brass handing him Forrest Griffin or anyone who can "bring the fight to him" is an embarrassing conceit. Why shouldn't he be bringing the fight himself?

This is audience-killing stuff, the kind of thing that sours attitudes and prompts apologies from the host of suburban pay-per-view fight parties.

Summary is best left to announcer Mike Goldberg, who sweats hyperbole through every pore and is fond of saying that "Anderson Silva is on another planet." He certainly is.

Next

Next for Silva: A sports psychologist.

Next for Maia: The respect afforded to a fighter who tried his best and took himself and the fight seriously.

Next for Frankie Edgar: An endless round of told-you-so interviews; the very patient Kenny Florian.

Next for B.J. Penn: Beating virtually everyone at 155 pounds, with the possible exception of the flickering Edgar.

Next for Matt Hughes: Dennis Hallman makes for a good story (Hughes lost to him twice, early in his career); Mike Swick; Phil Baroni.

Next for Renzo Gracie: The Gracies have wanted to strangle a name pro boxer for 50-something years: Give him James Toney already.

Awards

The hummingbird award: To Edgar, for buzzing in and out of Penn's radius and making his lack of size an asset rather than a handicap.

The subversive control award: The UFC, for being able to hire its own officials in Abu Dhabi and conveniently forgetting to pack Dana White nemesis Steve Mazzagatti.

The Griswolds award: Ferrari World, the only theme park more puzzling in its uselessness than Wally World.

The position award: Terry Etim/Rafael dos Anjos, for sliding into a North/South assembly -- face to crotch for the newcomers.

The Achilles' heel award: The Gracies, for succumbing to leg kicks in another high-profile fight.

New questions: Special Anderson Silva edition

Q: How do you "punish" Silva?

A: With his third bizarre performance in four fights, Silva has manufactured a nearly impossible problem for his employers: How do you reprimand a record-breaking world champion who you've spent hours of television and millions of dollars touting as the best in the world?

Cutting him loose is bad business. You don't spend years hyping a man and then gift-wrap him for competing promotions; shelving him and playing contractual jiu-jitsu would be a criminal waste of the most gifted striker in the sport.

It's clear that Silva thinks his business is done at 185 pounds, an attitude evidenced by the blunt disgust in his body language during his last three defenses. Strip him and mandate a permanent move to the 205-pound division, where there will be no end of fighters looking to get in his face, plant him, or press the action. If he refuses to fight friend Lyoto Machida, send him to the heavyweights. Cain Velasquez, Brock Lesnar and Shane Carwin aren't about to stand and blink at him for five seconds, let alone five rounds.

Q: Is Silva bad for all business?

A: Silva's performance Saturday may have made him the most divisive fighter in the sport: A portion of the audience will continue to be intrigued by his eccentric style of striking and unflinching attitude, while a (much larger) sample will take their frustrations out on their cable company.

As an exhausted Dana White solemnly pointed out to media following the event Saturday, it's the main event that follows audiences out to the exit. A good one can erase a limp undercard; a bad one can erase the memory of all the fighters who delivered gutsy performances. And truly foul main events can have a snowball effect on business as a whole, as evidenced by 1996's deadly Dan Severn/Ken Shamrock II bout that gouged the UFC's buy rates and led, indirectly, to its near-death on cable.

Silva does more than embarrass himself with this performance art: He casts a cloud over his entire sport.

Q: What motivated Silva's behavior?

A: Through translator Ed Soares, Silva claimed that he "didn't know what got into me" against Maia. Likely as not, Silva decided to swagger for a round or two to make things more interesting against a man not even a quarter of the striker he is -- and then froze a bit when fatigue began to set in.

Coast to coast theory No. 2: Silva, constantly petitioning the UFC for new challenges at heavyweight and now welterweight, is expressing his apathy for "undeserving" challengers by appearing barely plugged in to the action.

Theory No. 3: He's just a weirdo.

What Silva may not understand is that sluggish, circus-style offense may put him in more danger than going nose-to-nose. Every minute he allows the fight to continue is another minute Maia could connect with a looping punch -- as he did a couple of times late in the bout -- or find a novel way to get him to the ground. You should never be locked in a cage with a prizefighter for any longer than you have to be.

Q: Is Silva breaking the rules?

A: The Unified Rules make specific reference to timidity -- the act of avoiding engagement. Silva peppered the monotony of his laps with inventive strikes, but as the fight wore on, he became less and less violent. In the fifth round, referee Dan Miragliotta threatened to deduct a point if Silva continued, but it was too late: The fight was already dead.

Miragliotta could've made a case for point deductions earlier in the fight. If he had, Silva would have been looking at the ultimate consequence of his behavior: disqualification.

This and that

• Never one to miss a press op, Chael Sonnen told MMAJunkie.com over the weekend that blemished middleweight champion Silva is a "dirtbag" and that he has a "moral obligation to beat him up." Maybe he can back that up and maybe he can't, but the UFC would have no reason to believe Sonnen would do the staring contest thing for five rounds.

• Junkie also reported that Abu Dhabi was good for a $3.5 million live gate and over 11,000 attendees at Yas Island's Ferrari World. That's one very expansive disaster site.

• Mark Munoz and Kendall Grove split a well-deserved $150,000 for Fight of the Night honors, checks that probably should've been docked from Silva's pay stub.

• It's an absolute shame that Edgar's pitch-perfect performance against Penn on Saturday wound up eclipsed by Silva's controversies. Edgar wound himself up, came in, got out, and barely gave Penn a chance to react. It was Penn's first loss at lightweight in more than eight years, and probably one that deserves an immediate rematch while Gray Maynard and Florian determine a No. 1 contender.

It's not exactly the Thrilla in Manila, but the UFC's first trip into the Middle East still represents a progression of fighting sports previously left to media and satellite signals. (Boxing is too disorganized to even attempt T-shirt sales, let alone global expansion.)

A worldwide infection of Ultimate Fighting is the goal, and while that may be too optimistic by half -- revulsion in areas such as Germany will always be a thorn -- a major event in Abu Dhabi is a milestone. It was only a few years ago that Sheikhs hosted grappling-only tournaments, paying sizeable purses to fighters including Mark Kerr and Ricardo Arona without any interest in introducing strikes. Now Anderson Silva, the best MMA striker in the world, is having an arena built for his participation.

It's impossible to say whether fighting will ever be the one definitive sport that ignores cultural differences: Dana White is certainly not a peacemaker, even if he does share Gandhi's sense of style. But somehow, his promotion has arrived to the point that an Octagon has been built in Abu Dhabi to house several Brazilians, a Hawaiian, a few Brits and a kid from Toms River, N.J. Something has happened.

What: "UFC 112: Invincible," an 11-bout card from Ferrari World in Yas Island, Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates

When: Saturday, April 10, live at 1 p.m. ET with a replay at 10 p.m. ET

Why you should care: Because Silva is going for a record 11th consecutive victory in the Octagon while opponent Demian Maia is going for potentially the most shocking win of his -- or anyone's -- career; because B.J. Penn's ability to stuff his fist down the throat of opponents will be tested by Frankie Edgar throwing two for every one eaten; because Renzo Gracie is one of the last of the sport's true 1990s pioneers; and because, after 17 years of arena competition, an outdoor Octagon is something new and weird and incredibly interesting.

Fight of the night: Penn-Edgar, two guys who probably can't take down the other and will instead slug it out for at least three rounds.

Sleeper fight of the night: Matt Veach-Paul Kelly, two guys who season everything with aggression.

Hype quote of the show: "One of the conditions that I had when I told them that I was going to go back and fight was that I don't want to fight no tomato cans … I want legit fighters, and if I have to go back in there, I want to get the toughest that you have. They offered me Matt Hughes, and I couldn't be more pleased. I believe you can only make history if you fight people who will help you make history." -- Gracie, who should probably do everyone's talking at every event, to UFC.com.

Five questions: UFC 112

Q: Is Gracie ready to turn back the clock?

A: At 43, Gracie is by far the most accomplished of his family in limited-rules fights. In a frame that could accommodate 155 pounds, he beat two former UFC heavyweight titleholders in Oleg Taktarov and Maurice Smith; he choked out former UFC welterweight champion Pat Miletich and decisioned another champion in Carlos Newton; he was on his way to ruining Frank Shamrock's comeback until a knee slammed into the back of his head. He appeared on "60 Minutes" in 2007 and forced the octogenarian conducting the interview to crack a smile. If Renzo inspires reverence in his students, it's easy to see why: There's not much he can't do.

The problem is that Gracie will be taking on his style's worst possible adversary in Matt Hughes, an MMA-adapted wrestler who has far more knowledge of jiu-jitsu than any Iowan has a right to have -- and he'll be doing it at an age when your body has long since stopped obeying your will. "Better late than never" is a concept Hughes may force him to rethink.

Q: Is Silva looking past Maia?

A: During event week, much of the discussion surrounding Silva wasn't about his strategy for the formidable jiu-jitsu of Maia but his plans afterward. He wants to move up to heavyweight, down to welterweight. Maybe cure something. Rearrange Stonehenge.

There is no sport more hospitable to underdogs than MMA, where one foul move can mean missing chunks of your memory or elbow cartilage. Silva's ambitions are exciting to think about, but it's conversation best reserved for the postfight media table.

Q: Can Edgar take down Penn?

A: There is incredible substance to Penn's complete MMA game, but that doesn't mean you can't simplify his weakness: if you can hold him down, you have an excellent chance of success.

Both Hughes and St. Pierre set the template, but they had the advantage of being significantly bigger. No one at 155 pounds has figured out how to get Penn off his feet. Edgar comes in at a disadvantage: he could probably make 145 pounds if he skipped a meal or two. But in his corner is scrappy stand-up game that could be used to wear Penn down and get those arms and legs a little less resistant to a shot later in the fight.

Q: Is Hughes on cruise control?

A: Hughes, 36, hasn't fought in nearly a year. Without a financial audit, it's difficult to say whether he's no longer in need of money, but a years-long ride as a welterweight champion at the time the UFC began doing serious business has probably created a cushion.

In recent appearances, his appetite hasn't been there -- hasn't looked quite as vicious. And because he had swift success against Royce Gracie, he may feel as though Renzo isn't anyone to get excited about. Maybe, maybe not -- but the last time Hughes ambled into the Octagon with a passive look on his face, Penn was licking his blood.

Q: Is Penn nearly out of challenges?

A: Much of Penn's future after Saturday rides on how badly he mistreats Edgar. If he can stop the 11-1 New Jersey resident for the first time, it's another notch; if Edgar can expose some kind of flaw in Penn's game, there may be audience interest in seeing who can exploit it next. But with Gray Maynard a muted personality and the majority of remaining threats tied with Strikeforce, Penn may invent a UFC first: a champion with literally no one compelling left to fight.

Red Ink: Silva-Maia

Of the three underdogs helping to headline Abu Dhabi's first UFC event on Saturday, Maia is getting the least amount of respect from oddsmakers: while his ground game is effective enough to drown anyone, his stand-up is rudimentary. In the chess game of striking, he's spotting Silva half the board.

That won't matter if Maia can drag Silva down to the ground, but his odds are not as terrific there as you'd think. Jason McDonald survived a ferociously tight triangle attempt by Maia in their first round and a rear-naked choke at the bell. Silva may not be the offensive jiu-jitsu technician Maia is, but as a black belt himself, he should have the aptitude to remain out of danger. And every five minutes, the fight is reset in Silva's favor.

What it means: For Silva, an opportunity to break the all-time consecutive title defense record with six straight; for Maia, the chance to unhinge jaws everywhere by beating a celebrated all-time great.

Wild card: Silva's underrated submission game. He was the first man to tap Dan Henderson at 185 pounds and submitted BJJ black belt Travis Lutter. If Silva can thump Maia's head enough to cause confusion, he could put a huge notch in his belt with a submission win.

Who wins: Silva is far better a grappler than Maia is a striker. Silva by TKO.

Red Ink: Penn-Edgar

The best news Frankie Edgar is going to hear all day is that B.J. Penn is not a huge 155-pound fighter. Even in condition, there's still a little softness around the edges. Either man could cut to 145 pounds without the benefit of a wood chipper accident. And Edgar, notoriously small for the division, has succeeded in not being roughed up by anyone but Gray Maynard.

But that's where the positive thinking ends. Edgar's game of slugging it out is something Penn has been doing far longer and better. If he thinks about taking it down, he probably doesn't have the propulsion in his body to make it happen. (Of all people, Randy Couture once commented how difficult Penn was to plant.) The kid has got problems.

Edgar's single oasis in the desert: he can push the pace like no one else. His odds would've been better a few years ago, when Penn's wind was more suspect, but there's always potential to catch a fighter who just can't keep it together for that extra round.

What it means: For Penn, a chance to close the book on the UFC's 155-pound division for all but Maynard; for Edgar, the distinction of being only the second man at that weight to beat Penn.

Wild card: Phil Nurse, Georges St. Pierre's Thai trainer, has picked up Edgar as a student.

Who wins: Edgar is relentless, but Penn has finally married talent with tenacity. Penn by submission.

Mired in the black hole that was MMA in the 1990s, there were doubts -- some from people with serious financial interests in the sport -- that grappling would ever be tolerated on a grand scale. Punching with tiny gloves is easily understood and respected; a man wrapping his legs around another man's torso can meet with some resistance, for reasons ranging from homophobia to absolute boredom. Once fighters learned to avoid the traps of the closed guard, those situations turned into stalemates.

After a deadly dull UFC 33 event in 2001, the MMA Unified Rules of Conduct were quickly altered to give referees the power to stand up athletes who were in a static position on the ground. That, more than anything, probably saved the UFC's butt on a commercial level. Now, according to athletes such as Jon Fitch and Shinya Aoki, the closed guard may be a thing of the past.

"The closed guard is dead," Fitch told Fox Fight Game. "Strong wrestlers … will just pound you out all day long."

But just as Fitch's comments are grappler-dependent -- he says Aoki and Demian Maia are skilled enough to mount an effectively threatening guard -- his argument for wrestlers is also reflective of which one he's talking about. Matt Hughes is the last guy you'd want to be on the bottom of, because he can create enough space to deliver punishment and has the knowledge to stay out of problems; greener fighters are more susceptible to attacks from the bottom.

MMA is a cyclical activity: Certain trends die off for a bit, only to come back stronger. If the guard is indeed dead, it will be only until someone figures out how to reanimate it.