11

The history books will recall that August 2013 was when Conor McGregor recorded his second win in the UFC, but it was also the month in which I found my dream gym. The premises on the Long Mile Road had served us well but it felt like it was time for an upgrade. Conor’s success was starting to have a positive impact on our membership and I was confident that the numbers would continue to increase. The opportunity to train in the same gym as Conor McGregor was an attractive proposition.

It was a sign that things were going in the right direction that I could now consider relocating the gym on my own terms, instead of being forced out as I had been on previous occasions. While I wasn’t actively looking to move with any great sense of urgency, I was keeping my eyes peeled for suitable places. That’s when I came across a vacant unit on the Naas Road, a five-minute drive from where we were based and just around the corner from my apartment. It was spacious – almost 10,000 square feet – and bright; the perfect place for a gym. Of course, it was completely empty when I first saw it, but I already had the entire thing planned out in my mind. It was everything I ever wanted from a gym.

The problem was that I really didn’t think I could afford it. If I relocated SBG Ireland to the Naas Road, my monthly financial outgoings would multiply by seven – and I was still paying that €40,000 loan back to the bank. After viewing the building one afternoon, I went home and resigned myself to the likelihood that it was beyond my reach. But I couldn’t get the place out of my head. I wanted it so badly that I went back out that evening, walked up to the unit, stood outside for a while and just stared at it. I did the same the following night. And the night after that. Yeah, I stalked a building. A couple of weeks later, my dad came with me to take a look at it.

‘It’s a great place, John,’ he said. ‘But you can’t afford it and you’ll never fill it. It’s massive. Just forget about it and keep an eye out for somewhere else. You’d be crazy to take the risk.’

But I refused to be diverted. I had become a little bit obsessed with moving the gym to this unit. It sounds cheesy but I had a vision for how the gym would look in there and I couldn’t shake it off. It was exactly how I had always pictured my ideal gym. Even though the interest in SBG was growing, I still only had just over a hundred members. But that fact wasn’t enough to deter me. All logic seemed to suggest otherwise, but I really believed the move could be successful. I was convinced there would be a goldfish-bowl effect – that we’d fill whatever space we were in. As soon as I returned from Boston after Conor’s win against Max Holloway, I began the paperwork for SBG Ireland’s next move.

It was early on the Friday after Conor overcame Holloway that I received a call from Audie Attar, Conor’s manager. He seemed to be in a bit of a panic.

‘John, Conor has gone missing,’ Audie said. ‘He’s taken my car and isn’t answering my calls. He’s been gone for a few hours now.’

‘Hang on, Audie,’ I replied. ‘What’s the problem? Why did he disappear like that?’

‘He found out earlier that he’s torn his ACL. He’s going to be out for a long time.’

Conor had been for an MRI scan in Los Angeles on the Wednesday. On Thursday night he received the results of the scan … via Twitter. Dana White had given an interview to Fox Sports, who then revealed to the world – including Conor – the news that he had ruptured his anterior cruciate ligament. Nobody at the UFC had thought to notify Conor, myself or his management about such an important development. Instead, Conor found out that he probably wouldn’t fight again for a year via social media, just like everybody else. This was a potentially career-threatening injury that would require reconstructive surgery. I was furious that Conor learned the bad news from the internet. He wasn’t happy either, which is why he’d lost his temper and taken off in Audie’s car.

An ACL tear, while it’s a relatively common injury, can be very tough to recover from. It’s a long road back. After years of hard work, Conor’s career was finally beginning to take off. Now it had ground to an unexpected halt. If his initial thoughts were overwhelmingly negative, it was understandable.

I called Conor and he answered. He was angry at first, so I allowed him to get that out of his system. Then I sought to calm him down before discussing the reality of the situation. He was injured. He needed surgery. Then he’d face six months of rehabilitation. There was no getting away from that. No alternatives. That’s what he was faced with. Conor had two choices: he could feel sorry for himself, throw in the towel and forget about his goals, or he could embrace the challenge that came with the injury and vow to come out stronger at the end of it all.

‘Conor, champions conquer all adversity. That’s what separates them from the challengers,’ I told him. ‘There’s been adversity in the past, there’s adversity right now and there’ll be even more adversity in the future. But you’ve overcome it before and you’re going to overcome it again. Why? Because you’re on the road to becoming a UFC champion and this is just a minor obstacle along the way. This time next year we’re going to be laughing about all of this.’

In a scenario like this, appealing to Conor’s competitive side is the best way to get through to him. So that’s what I decided to do. We made it a competition. He might not have been able to fight for a while, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t compete in other ways.

‘You’re going to shock people with how fast you recover from this. And if they thought you were good before, they’re going to be blown away by what you show them when you come back. You’ll recover from this injury quicker than GSP did.’

Stuff like that really struck a chord with Conor. The chance to take on an MMA legend grabbed his attention. Former UFC welterweight champion Georges St-Pierre sustained the very same injury in 2011 and was lauded for returning just 322 days after surgery to beat Carlos Condit. Conor latched on to that.

‘Yeah, fuck it. I’m going to break records with this. People have seen nothing yet.’

That was the beginning of his journey to recovery. On 7 September, Conor was operated on in Los Angeles by the renowned Dr Neal ElAttrache, who had previously worked on some of the top stars in US sports, such as Tom Brady and Kobe Bryant. The UFC ensured that Conor was given the very best treatment. He spent the next five months in LA, going through a rigorous programme of rehabilitation under the guidance of Heather Milligan, an outstanding physical therapist who would play a vital role in Conor’s recovery.

That was the longest we’ve ever been apart, but we talked on the phone every day. I knew LA was the right place for him to be during his rehabilitation. He had access to world-class medical treatment there every day, and the little bit of sunshine that Dublin unfortunately can’t provide helped to keep his mindset positive. He even made a few celebrity friends while he was there, with Arnold Schwarzenegger – Heather Milligan’s boyfriend – paying him a visit during a rehab session.

There were ups and downs along the way, which is to be expected when a professional athlete is confined to the sidelines with an injury like that for such a long period of time. There were a few occasions when Conor would call and tell me he was finished; that he didn’t want to do it any more. But I knew he just needed some encouragement and those thoughts were soon forgotten about. As his coach in that situation, that’s all I could do: play my part in keeping Conor in the right frame of mind. He missed the day-to-day routine of being in the gym and training alongside his friends. While Conor was restricted to simple things like calf-raises and an exercise bike, his teammates were sparring and preparing for fights. I often sent him video clips of the guys sparring in the gym to ensure that he never began to feel detached from the team. Despite the bad days, Conor’s updates were mostly positive. ‘Another good day of work here,’ he’d say. ‘Making progress every day. I am a machine.’

I never had any doubts about Conor’s ability to ace the rehabilitation process from a physical point of view, but the key to making a success of it was how he handled it psychologically. Conor kept his mind active. He didn’t sit around feeling sorry for himself, eating ice cream and watching TV. He used the opportunity to learn. Even though he couldn’t spar, I used to send questions to him by text message about how he’d respond if he were to be caught in a certain position during his fight. That kept his mind sharp and in the game.

I would challenge any medical professional to take on Conor McGregor in a quiz about the anatomy of the knee. During his rehab, he studied it intensely. Conor became obsessed with knowing every detail of how the knee works in order to have a clearer understanding of his rehab. There’s not a thing he doesn’t know about it now. He also examined in detail the recoveries of other professional athletes from similar injuries.

Heather Milligan taught him a lot about the movement of the human body, and that had a significant influence on Conor’s approach to training and how to get the best out of himself physically. It also encouraged him to embrace the concept of light sparring even more. Heather told Conor that his muscles were too tight, so he became fixated with making sure that he was always loose and supple. He learned the importance of massage, and came to understand that lifting heavy weights really isn’t necessary for building strength. It was all about focusing on soft training.

Conor competed for a long time before he saw any financial rewards, so when he reached the UFC, maximizing his earning potential was one of his priorities. Thanks mainly to the ‘KO of the Night’ bonus he was awarded after beating Marcus Brimage, he had gotten off to a pretty good start on that front. However, the injury layoff provided him with a good opportunity to ensure that he was ready to take things to another level. When he wasn’t in the gym or receiving treatment, Conor devoted plenty of time to learning about how the UFC is run as a business and the role of a fighter in the media. He recognized the importance of promoting himself effectively, particularly given that the injury could very easily have pushed him away from the spotlight. The majority of fighters are only in the news when they’ve got a fight on the horizon, but Conor had different ideas. In spite of the injury, significant commercial offers were starting to come in from companies who were keen to be associated with him. That only served to encourage Conor to sharpen his business acumen. He didn’t fight for almost a year, but Conor managed to become an even bigger star in the interim. During Conor’s time on the sidelines, people were constantly asking me how his recovery was going. Even the elderly woman behind the counter in my local shop would ask: ‘How’s his knee? Is he going to be okay?’

He couldn’t train or fight for a long time, but Conor improved in absolutely every area during his recovery. As he inched closer to full fitness each day, his mind gradually became bulletproof. In hindsight, the break was a blessing in disguise, in that it gave Conor a chance to take a step back and clearly assess the opportunities that were in front of him, which meant that he was prepared to make the most of them when they came along. His handling of the injury was a perfect example of the ‘win or learn’ philosophy I’ve encouraged at SBG. For 99 per cent of people it would have been a negative experience, but Conor turned it into a positive one. Instead of losing during his time out, he learned.

In December 2013 I finally got the keys to the unit on the Naas Road. The process of securing the lease had dragged on for months, so it was a relief to have it signed and sealed. During some complications with solicitors, for the first time I played the Conor McGregor card. They’d quiz me about my plans for the building and I’d just say: ‘You know Conor McGregor? Well, this is where he’ll be training.’ After that, things were a lot smoother.

Again, I couldn’t have relocated the gym without the incredible contribution of the members. So many of them sacrificed their weekends to help with the move. Jimmy Donnelly, in particular, invested countless hours in getting the new premises kitted out. Their assistance was hugely important in keeping the costs down, because I was already feeling the pressure financially.

We scheduled the grand opening for Saturday, 11 January 2014. When the work on the new gym was completed, it had a reception area, a coffee dock, an MMA shop, a competition-sized octagon, a boxing ring, changing rooms, consultation and physiotherapy rooms, offices, and separate areas for grappling and striking. I was delighted with how it looked. Of course, I’m biased, but my initial feeling was that it would be difficult to find a better facility anywhere in the world. Now I just needed to pay for it.

Conor came back from the States for the opening, which certainly helped to drum up some publicity. I wanted him to stay in LA to continue his recovery, but he insisted on being there for such an important occasion for SBG Ireland. It was a mark of his quality as a man, because this was at a critical stage in his rehab. I was anticipating that about a hundred people might show up on the day, but with all my top professional fighters present, 1,500 people came through the doors. Even looking back now, I still can’t believe we had attracted such a big crowd. It wasn’t so long ago that we couldn’t even draw that many people to the guys’ fights, let alone the opening of a gym. The place was absolutely packed, with people of all ages. The day was yet another indication of how rapidly MMA was growing in Ireland.

On opening weekend alone, our membership numbers doubled. That meant that I had already covered the increased expenses that came with the move. I was very relieved because there really was no Plan B if things went tits-up. The team’s profile was still exploding, but there was no guarantee of that continuing. What if Conor’s comeback failed? I knew the bubble could very easily burst. But that first weekend removed so much of the financial burden from my shoulders. I was confident then that we would continue to bring in new members, because the word quickly got around that this was a world-class facility that catered for all levels. It was early days yet, but it felt like the gamble was about to pay off. Later that year I received a letter from the bank confirming that my loan was finally cleared. It was one of the most satisfying moments of my life. I’ll never forget it. I still can’t help but smile now when I think of it.

Following the move to the Naas Road, the increasing membership numbers allowed me to make some adjustments to how the gym operated. We introduced a consultation process and foundation programmes for beginners. This was geared towards anyone who was curious about taking up martial arts but also a bit intimidated by it. It was important to let people know that if they joined SBG, they could learn from scratch at their own pace. They weren’t going to be thrown in for a sparring session with Conor McGregor on their first day.

It’s quite a small percentage of SBG members who actually train to compete. Many people come to us because they want to lose weight or improve their general health and lifestyle. Hearing their success stories is just as satisfying for me as any big UFC win for one of my fighters. To see somebody who has turned their life around as a result of joining SBG means the world to me. More often than not, they’ve never even set foot in a cage or entered a competition.

This approach also made the gym a friendly place for kids. We call them the ‘Growing Gorillas’. Given my own history of being bullied and unable to defend myself as a child, that had been a priority for me for a long time. I regularly meet parents who are worried about their child being bullied. Owen Roddy is fantastic in that regard. He has ‘mat chats’ with the kids in his classes and explains to them how best to handle those situations, encouraging them to get a teacher involved and let their parents know what’s going on. But he also teaches them how to respond if they’re being physically attacked in the schoolyard. Bullies are like predatory animals. They can sense when somebody is, or is not, going to be an easy target. We aim to make sure that our kids stand tall and exude confidence. If there’s a rumour around their school that they’re training in the same gym as Conor McGregor, all of a sudden they’re not such an easy target. So the bullies move on to something else. Nobody wants to jump on a guy walking down the street with a gym bag over his shoulder.

As the gym began to flourish, one concern I had was that it was becoming increasingly difficult to retain the feeling that SBG was like a little family. Sadly, it took a dreadful tragedy to remind us all of the importance of sticking together.

Kamil Rutkowski was a key figure at Straight Blast Gym. He had come to Ireland from Poland and joined SBG shortly after we moved to the Long Mile Road. You couldn’t have met a happier, friendlier, more helpful person than Kamil, and there wasn’t a more popular guy at the gym. He very quickly developed into an outstanding Brazilian jiu-jitsu practitioner, and by the time we relocated to the Naas Road he was a brilliant coach and one of my most trusted friends.

A few months after we were up and running on the Naas Road, in April 2014, Kamil and I were the last two people left in the gym one evening. As we were preparing to close up and go home, Kamil came into my office and asked if we could have a chat. He had seemed slightly out of sorts for a few days, so this didn’t surprise me. I could see that there was something on his mind.

When he sat down and spoke, Kamil didn’t seem like himself at all. He was acting very strangely. He appeared angry and agitated. I had never seen him like that before. He rambled on for a while about some minor issues in the gym. It was all a bit bizarre. None of what he was saying made any sense. Then he claimed that some people at the gym – including myself – had been talking about him behind his back. There was no substance to that whatsoever, because there wasn’t a more liked and respected guy at SBG than Kamil. The conversation actually became quite tense, and I was worried that he was going to lunge over the desk at me, but I insisted to him that none of what he was saying was true and that he had nothing to worry about.

I was very concerned about Kamil when I got home that night. Our talk was just so out of character for him. I got in touch with a few of the other coaches and they agreed that his recent behaviour was cause for concern. We decided that we would contact Professor Dan Healy, a neurologist at Beaumont Hospital who is SBG’s team doctor, to speak to Kamil about his situation. Looking back, there had been a few signs that Kamil was struggling. On Facebook he had been posting a lot of pictures of himself alone, as well as other little things that didn’t reflect his usual bubbly personality. He had cut himself off from people in the gym who considered him a close friend. While it was hard to detect at the time, he was clearly suffering from depression.

The morning after our conversation, Kamil came into the gym and taught his class at 6.30 a.m., as usual. He collected some fees, did a few other bits and pieces and then left in his car. By early afternoon we began to worry, as he had been gone for several hours and that was extremely uncommon. I called him but his phone was turned off. He wasn’t at home either. As dinnertime approached there was still no sign of Kamil, so we phoned the police.

That night, at around 9 p.m., I was on the mats coaching a class when the word came through to the gym that Kamil had been found. But it wasn’t good news. A couple who were out for a walk in the Dublin mountains discovered him hanging from a tree. He was thirty-five.

It’s hard to describe your feelings at a time like that. It’s not sadness. It’s not anger. It’s just emptiness. Nothing. For a while I just stood there, speechless. Then Kieran McGeeney pulled me away to one side. That’s when it hit me and a wave of emotion engulfed me. That night, my sister Ann and I stayed behind at the gym to give ourselves time to let the reality of what had happened sink in. But mostly we shared stories that reminded us of what a brilliant person Kamil was. Ann ran the reception at the gym, and Kamil always kept an eye out for her. She said he was like her guard dog. Kamil was a vital member of SBG and his passing left a massive hole.

A couple of nights later we had a send-off for Kamil in the gym. Everybody came down. Some said a few words of remembrance. It was an emotional occasion, particularly for Kamil’s brother. We invited him down and I presented him with a BJJ black belt on Kamil’s behalf. We all raised some money to send Kamil’s body back to his family in Poland. It also paid for the funeral. It was nice to be able to do that, because it took some of the pressure off his family at a very difficult time.

We found afterwards that Kamil had been suffering from severe pain due to a back injury. The medication he had been prescribed for it didn’t mix well with the effects of depression, and that seems to have pushed Kamil beyond breaking point.

To be completely honest, I knew absolutely nothing about depression. I’d had some tough times myself over the years, but never anything to that extent. Kamil’s death taught me that depression is a serious issue that shouldn’t be ignored or dismissed. It could happen to anybody. It was a lesson to us all at SBG and it encouraged others to open up if they had concerns over their mental health. As a result, the gym became a place where people felt comfortable speaking about those issues. They realized that it’s okay not to feel okay, but the first step should be to let those closest to you know. Don’t isolate yourself and keep it all bottled up. It raised our awareness of an important topic. Afterwards, others came forward too. Aisling Daly was one of them. She admitted to suffering from depression, something I had never been aware of. Ais has since spoken publicly about it, and doing so helped her deal with it.

Conor McGregor was also affected by Kamil’s death. He wrote on Facebook:

We all go through pain in life so please speak to each other and pay attention to another person’s feelings. Offer help and guidance. We are all one. Suicide is a problem that hits us all in life, please pay attention, your words are powerful to you and those around you. Use them to encourage. We all feel the same emotions as each other, good and bad, just at different times in our life. Awareness is everything. Our relationships with each other are worth more than anything else. They deserve all our time and focus. I feel sick to my stomach here. His life was the gym, his life was jiu-jitsu. I wish I just paid attention to him instead of talking about and worrying about my own meaningless shit. It all means nothing in the end. Absolutely nothing. What the fuck is money anyway when it drives people to unthinkable things?

SBG subsequently became involved with Pieta House, a charity which helps people who are suicidal or self-harming, and we now take part in their Darkness Into Light event each year. We also have posters around the gym, reminding people to remain aware of depression and the fact that it can be a consequence of concussion.

What happened to Kamil was horrendous, but nothing can be done about the past. What you can do is learn from it and do as much as you can to make sure that it doesn’t happen again. It’s important to extract some good from even the very worst situations, and Kamil’s death caused the team to become closer. The change of location and the increase in membership numbers had possibly resulted in a slight disconnect, but this brought us back together again. By the beginning of 2016, SBG Ireland had 700 members, yet it’s still a family – albeit an enormous one. There’s a support system there, so you know that if you’re having a rough time, you’ll have three or four people watching out for you.

Kamil’s passing was the greatest loss SBG ever suffered, but it also gave us the most valuable lesson we ever learned.