12 hours ago
Athletes expose the reality of fighting for survival in the UFC
At one of the first cage fighting shows in Australia, a 12-year-old boy saw his future in the brutal and bloody sporting battle.
"When I told my dad that I wanted to do it professionally, I got a bit of a hiding," Tyson Pedro recalls.
"Dad was promoting these shows, and he knew there was no money in it.
"He didn't want his son … risking [his] life for peanuts."
Pedro was undeterred by the reality check — but when he fulfilled his childhood wish of being a UFC fighter, he finally understood his dad's concern.
He's one of a small but growing chorus of former fighters speaking up about their experience inside the ruthless UFC money-making machine. The men and women who put their bodies on the line, but say they weren't treated fairly by the business that has been valued at $US12 billion ($18.5 billion).
The UFC has become a towering force in sports, wielding vast influence across business, politics and culture, and is being embraced in Australia.
But for its fighters a crucial question is emerging: who profits from the blows they must take?
The UFC has become a dominant force in the professional fighting scene. ( Getty Images: Dean Mouhtaropoulos )
'Costing me more than I was making'
When he finally did get his chance to make his UFC debut, Pedro had just four weeks to prepare. He'd been asked if he wanted to replace a fighter who had pulled out of the Melbourne event due to injury.
He only had four professional fights under his belt, but told his manager he was "100 per cent" in and didn't even ask who his opponent would be.
Tyson Pedro has walked away from the UFC to pursue a career in boxing. ( Four Corners )
Pedro fought Kalil Roundtree — "one of the hardest hitters in the UFC, and he whacked me into tomorrow" — and his professional fighting career took off.
What followed was a relentless cycle of sacrifices by Pedro and his family, and a huge financial burden that came with training and travelling.
"An entry level fight is usually 10 and 10 … 10 [thousand dollars] to show and 10 [thousand] to win," he says.
"If you don't win, that's half your pay gone … it adds up quick.
"It was costing me more than I was making in the UFC … I was paying for cars, housing, taking my team over, so I was in the red before I even started."
Training and travelling for the UFC became a huge financial burden for Tyson. ( Four Corners )
It wasn't until Pedro completely ruptured his ACL and was unable to fight for four-and-a-half-years that he realised the company's business model was not sustainable.
"There was no money coming in, and I was like 'what is going on?' If I don't fight again, then there's nothing after it," he says.
"That was when I realised this isn't gonna be forever."
'I had to take every fight that was given to me'
Bec Rawlings has been a trailblazing figure for Australian female mixed martial arts fighters, but it was still a challenge for her to make ends meet in the UFC.
"The sacrifice of money, living pay cheque to pay cheque, it really just put me in a position where I had to take fights, even if those fights weren't ideal for me," she says.
Bec Rawlings was a trailblazing figure for Australian female mixed martial arts fighters. ( Four Corners )
"A lot of people if they're getting paid more — so, like, boxers get paid quite a lot more than MMA fighters — you see them with great records because they can pick and choose fights that suit them, that they're ready for in that time of their career. I didn't have that luxury.
"I had to take every fight that was given to me because I needed to make the money and stay relevant."
All fighters in the UFC are signed up as independent contractors, which meant that Rawlings was only paid when she fought.
After losing three fights, Rawlings was dumped from her contract. All up, she had spent four years with the UFC.
Bec Rawlings says she took every fight given to her because she needed the money. ( Getty Images: Josh Hedges/Zuffa LLC )
"Fighters get taken advantage of a lot because we want to fight and we want to be on the world stage, so they know that they can pay you less, and they know if you don't … take that fight, there'll be some other idiot behind you with their hand up," she says.
"I was in the pinnacle of the sport and had no money. That was a really low point in my career where I was like, 'why am I doing this? What the hell for?'"
UFC analyst Jacob Debets says the public perception of how much fighters are paid is far from the reality.
"Like any professional sport, you assume that the people competing in it are making good money," he says.
"You might even think they're making millions and millions of dollars.
"The reality is that the vast majority of the UFC's fighters, including Australian fighters, might not be making a living wage."
The Trump connection
Before it became a multi-billion-dollar sporting juggernaut, the UFC's first fight was for relevancy.
The UFC was founded over 30 years ago with the vision of showcasing a no-holds-barred competition where different martial arts could be tested against each other.
The first UFC event in 1993. ( Getty Images: Holly Stein )
The brutality of the sport was met with political opposition and regulatory roadblocks, and was purchased by casino moguls Lorenzo and Frank Fertitta for $2 million in 2001, who appointed Dana White as its president.
Even with new owners, the UFC was struggling to find venues willing to host the sport — until businessman Donald Trump took a gamble and hosted two events at his Trump Taj Mahal casino in Atlantic City in 2001.
White has often credited the now-US president with playing a pivotal role in saving the sports company, which transformed into an entertainment powerhouse that sold for a staggering $US4 billion in 2016.
A UFC bout in Las Vegas in 2024. ( Getty Images: Josh Hedges/Zuffa LLC )
In 2023, the UFC merged with wrestling giant WWE to form TKO Group Holdings, a publicly listed sports entertainment powerhouse.
Its influence was on full display at the inauguration of Donald Trump as US president in January 2025 — with White seated among former presidents.
UFC boss Dana White (centre, red tie) attended the inauguration of Donald Trump in Washington DC. ( Getty Images/Pool )
"I don't know if there's an organisation in sports in the United States more censorious than them," combat sport analyst Luke Thomas says.
"They don't like reporting on their business, even when it's accurate. They don't like other people editorialising their business.
"If you want to say outrageous things in the MMA world, congratulations — you'll be able to.
"But if you say something like, 'I think the UFC's a monopoly, and that's bad for the sport,' consequences are going to come your way."
'You're either with the company or you're against it'
Former UFC fighter Nate Quarry is all too familiar with the consequences of speaking out against the organisation and how it treats its athletes, especially when it comes to pay.
"They're treating it like a business while trying to get me to consider it as a passion — something that I should just be doing for the love of it," he says.
"I was told over and over again, 'shut up and fight. Your job is to fight.'
"We've been short-changed. We've been underpaid. We deserve better."
Unlike other professional athletes in different sports, UFC fighters say they have been locked into restrictive contracts that severely limit their earning potential — and Quarry says those who have challenged the UFC over money or conditions have been punished.
"They just get blacklisted, they get cut. They get put on the undercard. They are given opponents that aren't going to be a good match up for them," he says.
"The UFC is very vindictive. You're either with the company or you're against it."
Nate Quarry was one of several plaintiffs in a lawsuit which alleged that the UFC engaged in unlawful anti-competitive conduct. ( Four Corners )
Quarry is among those who have stood up to the UFC, taking the fight to the company in the form of a class action.
He was one of several plaintiffs in the lawsuit, which alleged the UFC engaged in unlawful anti-competitive conduct and had suppressed fighter compensation through restrictive contracts and exclusionary business practices.
The lawsuit uncovered documents from the UFC that exposed just how profitable a business it is — and how little it was paying fighters.
"It showed that fighters made, on average every year, below 20 per cent of the total revenue," combat sports analyst John Nash says.
"The UFC's success, their valuation, their stock price — all that is dependent on making sure the fighters do not get a bigger share of the pie."
The UFC is a multi-billion-dollar sporting juggernaut. ( Getty Images: Darrian Traynor )
The decade-long fight
Dana White has consistently pushed back on criticisms that the UFC underpays its fighters, and has claimed that increasing pay is "never gonna happen" while he's in charge.
The UFC attempted to have the class action dismissed, but the judge agreed that the organisation had "suppressed fighter pay through the use of long-term exclusive contracts, coercive conduct, and the elimination or acquisition of competitors".
More than 100 fighters wrote letters urging the judge to approve a $US375 million settlement agreement, and detailing how it would support them in their post-UFC careers.
After a decade-long fight, the settlement was approved by the judge in February, with around 1,100 fighters who competed in the UFC between December 2010 and June 2017 eligible to make a claim.
Former UFC fighter Cung Le says that without the settlement sum, he would "likely need to file bankruptcy and apply for disability to manage my basic living and healthcare needs".
Past UFC title holders Wanderlei Silva and Shane Carwin are both concerned about traumatic brain injuries from their time in the company, having experienced depression, mood swings and irritability.
Shane Carwin is worried about traumatic brain injuries from his time in the UFC. ( Getty Images: Jon Kopaloff/Zuffa LLC )
In a statement provided to Four Corners, the UFC says the company has "invested billions of dollars building the sport of mixed martial arts and fuelling a global industry that has benefited thousands of athletes".
"[The] UFC pays its fighters more than any other MMA promotion and has created countless opportunities for athletes to achieve success with UFC or with competing promotions.
"[The] UFC has become the gold standard for athlete health and safety in all of combat sports … on brain health research … and anti-doping … [and] has continually reviewed and strengthened health and safety protocols to protect the athletes who compete in the Octagon."
Nate Quarry (right) in a 2008 UFC event in Canada. ( Getty Images: Josh Hedges/Zuffa LLC )
It's little comfort for Nate Quarry, who is worried about how the physical damage will affect him in the future.
"I have 19 screws in me … surgery, facial reconstruction, nose redone a few times. I've taken a lot of damage and I'm still a relatively young man at 53," he says.
"I am very concerned … I have a 5-year-old son, a 3-year-old daughter, a 2-year-old daughter. Am I going to be able to remember their names? Am I going to be able to remember the journey that got me here?"
Nate Quarry is coming to terms with the likely long-term impacts of the UFC on his health. ( Four Corners )
Expanding its influence down under
The power and influence of the UFC is being embraced by some Australian governments, with the NSW government spending $16 million to sponsor three events in Sydney.
The WA government has also expanded its partnership with TKO, which will see a UFC and WWE event held in Perth. It has not disclosed the amount of taxpayer money it has put towards the deal, saying it is commercial in confidence.
Premiers and tourism ministers argue the events are economically beneficial, but critics struggle to understand the rationale behind giving a profitable business millions of dollars from the taxpayer.
"I don't think they're accounting for the economic effect of the health issues that can arise from promoting a culture in which blows to the head are encouraged," says Dr Andrew Miller, the former president of the Australian Medical Association's WA branch.
Australian Jack Della Maddalena is a UFC welterweight champion. ( Four Corners )
For rising UFC star Jack Della Maddalena, he hopes deals like those struck with the WA government will allow him to fight in front of his home crowd in Perth.
"I've always been competitive, and it feels like fighting is … the pinnacle of competition," he says.
"That's how I see it in my head. It's where all roads lead to and people are just competing, and they just want to get the better of each other."
After winning his first UFC World title, his future is looking bright — and admits he doesn't give much thought to the physical toll right now.
"It is a rough sport. I've had injuries, but I try not to think about that too much. It'll be tomorrow's problem," he says.
"I never got into this to make heaps of money. I just loved the sport."
Australian fighter Jack Della Maddalena is a rising star in the UFC. ( Getty Images: Paul Kane )
Even with Della Maddalena's achievements, John Nash says he will likely only experience being at the top of the sport for a few years.
"The law of averages tells us he will probably be at the very top for a year, two max, maybe three. If he's very lucky and one of the best that we've ever seen, maybe he'll stay at that top position [for] four or five years," he says.
"It's a very short time that he gets to maximise what he's going to make, and then afterwards he will have to live the rest of his life with the injuries and damage that his body has gone through from fighting."
It's a situation that fighters like Tyson Pedro could only dream of, who confessed the money played a role in his recent retirement from the UFC.
"Financially, it was just not adding up," he says.
"Every fight, my last three fights especially, I've gone in ready to die.
"The fact that I'm willing to die for that amount of money, that was one of the big reasons when that cheque came through that I was like 'no, I'm gonna write my own path'."
Tyson Pedro is now pursuing a career in boxing after leaving the UFC. ( Four Corners )
Now forging ahead with a career in boxing, Pedro says there's no hard feelings with the UFC.
"I have no animosity whatsoever with the UFC; they created what I've got going on now," he says.
"It was all my choice, but for sure it's been a long road.
"I tell them all, don't do it. You're going to go through hell, you're not gonna get paid well for it, and you have to just go through so much stuff that just won't make sense to anyone else.
