This was most of Vovchanchyn’s offense on the feet: left hooks and
the moneymaker overhand right. He largely eschewed straight
punches, ignoring the jab and rarely even throwing right crosses.
He threw kicks to the legs and body at times, but they weren't
powerful, and he was leery of doing so for fear of being taken
down.
Speaking of the ground, Vovchanchyn doesn't get enough credit for
being a striker who developed solid wrestling and ground skills for
the time. He gradually developed a degree of defensive wrestling,
able to stay upright against weaker attempts, including a sprawl he
tried to angle with. He even had some basic ability to get back up.
If stuck on the ground, Vovchanchyn was tough and resilient,
sustaining some awful positions and heavy punishment but never
giving up. His match against
Mark Kerr as well
as his encounter against 355-pound wrestler
Dan Bobish bear
this out, as the larger grappler would often rain down knees
directly to Igor's trapped head from the north-south position, a
legal attack in Pride. Vovchanchyn had very powerful
ground-and-pound, whether it was his piston-like knees to the head
or his vicious, never-ending punches, like the ones that left
Enson
Inoue a bloody, battered sack of flesh at the end of the first
round. That sounds a lot like Emelianenko, and indeed, Vovchenchyn
also made a great living neutralizing grapplers before demolishing
them on the feet or from top position.
So, what happened to Vovchanchyn's career? This is where we get to
his weaknesses, beginning with the feet. Vovchanchyn's biggest
problem wasn't his offensive capabilities, but rather his defense.
Even by the standard of his day, his defensive was spotty, and it
is poor when viewed through a modern lens. Vovchanchyn circled well
at times, but rarely moved his head and lacked defensive instincts.
Even worse, he often left himself wide open when throwing his
punches, just begging to be countered, and that is not even getting
into kicks. As noted, Vovchanchyn's own kicks were limited, but
worse than that, he had no idea how to defend against them, whether
they were aimed at his head or legs. That's why
Mirko
Filipovic needed just 89 seconds to knock out Vovchanchyn with
a head kick. It's why in a K-1 fight against
Ernesto
Hoost, the Dutchman absolutely murdered Vovchanchyn with leg
kicks, which were never avoided or checked. Even Inoue, mentioned
above, who was more of a grappler, caught Inoue with a good
straight shot on the feet that opened up a huge cut. Vovchanchyn
likely would have lost if he didn't get the takedown in a wild
scramble. Like a lot of fighters with poor defense, Vovchanchyn was
vulnerable to straight shots.
Offensively, Vovchanchyn was no longer the same terror he had been
in the 90s, either. He relied on opponents who had poor defense and
gave him big opportunities. Bueno, for instance, was a BJJ
practitioner who only been boxing for two years—and not well at
that, sticking his chin straight up in the air. Instead of ducking
and possibly clinching when Vovchanchyn came forward with his
trademark combination, the Brazilian obliged by slowly pulling his
head straight back, his chin straight up, beckoning the Ukrainian's
right hand to slam him in the face. Take away those opportunities
and Vovchanchyn wasn't the same. Look at his decision losses
against
Tra
Telligman and Nakamura. Neither was a great striker, but they
were certainly more technically sound than almost anyone the
Ukrainian faced earlier in his career. Each also possessed
defensive fundamentals. Vovchanchyn couldn't land his big bombs and
without effective straight punches or leg kicks, was simply
outpointed by opponents who had them, and with far more reach, to
boot.
Of course, not all of Vovchanchyn's later losses came on the feet.
To his credit, I think his grappling improved continuously during
the course of his career, all the way up until the end. It was
clearly a big focus, and he got better and better at wrestling and
BJJ. Unfortunately, his improvement was still slower than the
breakneck pace at which grappling developed in MMA. Against a BJJ
legend in
Mario Sperry,
Vovchanchyn tapped to an arm triangle in just under three minutes.
I also find his fight against
Heath Herring
especially instructive. Herring was a good wrestler for the time,
and Vovchanchyn initially had success not only stopping his
takedown, but even taking the American down himself. Unfortunately,
when Vovchanchyn was on top, Herring continued grappling and
eventually swept him, reversing position. Vovchanchyn lost the
decision.
While I'm well aware that Vovchanchyn suffered horrible injuries to
his hands and knuckles from his early MMA fights, many of which
took place without gloves, I doubt it changed much. He was a
legend, pioneer, and hero of the sport in the 90s, but the sport
had evolved too much by the early 2000s, and Vovchanchyn could be
beaten by the new elite on either the feet or the ground. He tried
his best to improve, but it just wasn't enough. The same criticism
can be levied at almost any 90s fighter except
Frank
Shamrock, who was years ahead of his time. In parting, let us
enjoy one of Vovchanchyn's great triumphs of the 90s, over the
6-foot-8, 350-plus-pound “Polar Bear,”
Paul
Varelans: