Minotauro: A Sherdog Retrospective

Talking about Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira is not something that is easy for me to do, mainly because it is impossible for me as a journalist to give a professional opinion about him. As coincidence would have it, he nearly became a close family member of mine prior to becoming a vale tudo fighter.

Everything started in 1997, when my sister went to the famous Carnival of Salvador, where she was introduced to Antonio Rogerio Nogueira. They fell in love, and Rogerio moved from Salvador to Rio de Janeiro to enroll in law school. My father once worked as an attorney, and helped set up Rogerio with his studies and even secured a trainee job for him at his firm.

By that time, Rogerio’s twin brother was winning all the state jiu-jitsu titles as a brown belt in Bahia, where there was not great Brazilian jiu-jitsu tradition. In 1998, Rodrigo came to Rio and took the Brazilian Nationals by storm, winning gold at heavyweight and in the absolute division at brown belt. Upon seeing a baiano dominate in BJJ in Rio, he had my full attention.

After he won double gold, “Minotauro” came to my house to thank my father, Luiz, for everything he had done for Rogerio. “Minotauro” became an unlikely member of my extended family from then on. My father had been hooked on combat sports since the 1950s and had even seen Carlson Gracie fight Waldemar Santana at Maracanazinho in ’55. “Minotauro” mentioned he had already done some boxing, so my dad suggested that I do a story on him, as I was the editor of Tatame magazine at the time. The next weekend, I went to Bahia to cover his training sessions at his then-trainer Guilherme Assad’s gym, but I recall him not being too concerned about getting his name in the magazine. I was starting to consider focusing my story more on the new BJJ scene in Bahia, when “Minotauro” invited me to share some acai on the beach with him.

In Salvador’s 100-degree heat, he took off his shirt, exposing the scars from his accident when he was 10 years old. I was left awestruck when he told me about waking up from his coma, spending a year in the hospital, overcoming his physical injuries and becoming a jiu-jitsu champion. We talked about boxing again, and I mentioned to him that a local promoter, Frederico Lapenda, was looking for a legitimate jiu-jitsu fighter to face Igor Vovchanchyn.

“Vale tudo is too violent,” he told me. “I’m not sure it’s for me yet.”

I closed my feature, “The Bahia Robocop,” with high praise and with what I thought was an honest assessment: “Minotauro has everything it takes to be a great vale tudo fighter. He’s big enough, with good boxing, a big heart, a good guard and, most importantly, a lot of luck. It seems time for him to unleash in the ring what that truck did to him as a kid.”

Since that day in Salvador, no fighter has thrilled me more in my 23 years of covering MMA than Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira. Shortly after I wrote my story, Nogueira moved in with his sister in Miami and began training with “Conan” Marcus Silveira, which led to World Extreme Fighting promoter Jamie Levine recruiting him and convincing him to step into the cage; it was the starting point for one of the greatest fighters in Brazilian history.

When “Minotauro” first came to Rio to train, he had no family nearby. Naturally, he grew closer to me and my father. He would stop by after his fights and give taped copies to my old man to watch, and eventually, he would start calling him from Japan after his bouts in Pride Fighting Championships. The Bob Sapp fight particularly thrills me to this day, as I remember my father in tears as he saw his friend and idol submit the giant after 14 minutes on the receiving end of a one-sided drubbing.

Two months after the Sapp bout, my dad had an aneurysm and was stuck in a coma for three months. When the Nogueira brothers heard my father needed blood donors, they rushed to the hospital immediately; “Minotauro” was unable to give blood, so he bribed his girlfriend to donate blood in his stead. Sadly, my dad passed away less than a month later, on Nov. 9, 2002. After my father’s death, Rodrigo’s wins became twice as powerful to me.

By the time he made it to the Ultimate Fighting Championship, I was watching him recover from three surgeries -- two hip, one knee -- that prevented him from walking for almost 18 months. Doctors told him they could not imagine him ever returning to MMA. Yet, there he was smiling like a child when he started his training camp for Brendan Schaub at the first UFC event in Rio. He knocked out Schaub, and to this day, it is the loudest, most emotional crowd I’ve ever heard, with all the people screaming, “The champ is back!”

I have been blessed to get to cover “Minotauro” Nogueira’s career as a fighter, but I’m more blessed to know him as a man. He is without question the best human being I have had the pleasure of meeting in my life. Thanks for everything, “Minotauro.”