Death in the desert
Former Ultimate Fighting champ lost solo battle with the elements
By Jenifer Goodwin
UNION-TRIBUNE STAFF WRITER
September 28, 2008
Deep in the scorched hills of Imperial County, 10 miles from the nearest paved road, Evan Tanner parked his off-road motorcycle and set up camp. He unfolded a green cot and chair, set up a tarp for shade and took out sunscreen, a highlighter and a notebook.
Tanner, 37, was fit and tough. Six feet tall and 185 pounds, he was the 2005 middleweight champ for the Ultimate Fighting Championship, a brutal contest in which barefooted fighters pummel each other in chain-link cages.
Yet the Oceanside resident was no match for the desert. Soon after he arrived Sept. 3, during a week when temperatures hit 114 degrees, he began sending text messages to friends warning that he was running low on water. Rescuers found his body two miles from his camp Sept. 8.
Tanner's death hit hard among fans of Ultimate Fighting Championship, the leading promoter of mixed martial arts events that combine wrestling, kickboxing, boxing, judo and jiu-jitsu.
During the last several years, UFC had transformed itself from outlaw to a darling of cable TV and Las Vegas. Title matches draw as many as 20,000 spectators and 1 million pay-per-view buys. CBS recently started airing mixed martial arts matches during prime time.
Tanner was one of UFC's first stars, a former high school wrestler who taught himself mixed martial arts by watching videos.
In a sea of fighters with tough-guy personas, he was thoughtful and unassuming, a voracious reader who compiled lists of his favorite books (“Pride and Prejudice,” “The Tao of Pooh” and “David Copperfield”), and blogged about his struggles with depression and alcohol, and his search for his place in the world.
After his death, more than 100,000 watched a YouTube tribute video, thousands posted condolences, and Spike TV dedicated shows to him.
“He was very open with fans. He admitted his faults. He didn't make himself out to be something he wasn't,” said Dave Meltzer, editor in chief of the Wrestling Observer (wrestlingobserver.com) newsletter. “A lot of people could empathize with him as a real human being, rather than a TV superstar.”
Ferociously driven
No one pegged Tanner as a champion when he took up wrestling as a sop****re at Caprock High School in Amarillo, Texas. His first year, he lost as many matches as he won, recalled his former coach, Jerome Stewart, now superintendent of Canton Independent School District near Dallas.
But Tanner was ferociously driven, running five miles to and from school in addition to daily practice and weightlifting. He won the state championship his junior and senior years.
When Tanner was 14, his mother, who also battled depression, left him and his two siblings in the care of his stepfather, Rex Craig. Tanner's father lived out of state and rarely saw the teen, Craig said.
Craig, a Vietnam vet and carpenter who'd known Tanner since he was 3, said Tanner was popular at school but often wanted to be alone. “It just wasn't easy to get in and get close to him,” Craig said.
Egged on by friends, Tanner fought in his first mixed martial arts tournament in Amarillo in 1997. He won all three matches.
“After the first time, I never figured on fighting again,” Tanner told Wrestling Observer several months ago. “Then they offered me a shot at the title. I thought it would make a good story to tell to my kids.”
Craig, who'd been hoping Tanner might follow him into carpentry or finish college, saw his stepson fight only once. He left before the match ended, with a knot in his stomach and a lump in his throat.
“After Vietnam, I was soured on hurting each other,” he said. “I sure didn't want to see Evan hurt, and I sure didn't want to see him hurt someone else.”
Almost a superstar
In the early '90s, UFC was billed as a hardcore, no holds barred event with few rules. Promoters would pit fighters from various disciplines – a boxer against a kickboxer or a sumo wrestler – to see who would dominate.
The violent, dangerous reputation backfired. Politicians likened it to “human ****fighting.” Many state athletic commissions, including California's, refused to sanction it, although some promoters continued to sell tickets illegally to events.
Over the next decade, the sport evolved. In 1997, UFC established weight classes, banned head butts and made various other changes to satisfy state athletic commissions.
As the sport went mainstream, Tanner emerged as a UFC stand-out. On February 5, 2005, in front of a sold-out crowd of 12,000 at Las Vegas' Mandalay Bay Events Center, Tanner pounded David Terrell until the referee stopped the fight at 4:35. Tanner won the middleweight title.
“Tanner had a unique ability to read a book or watch a tape and implement it,” Meltzer said. “He was a very intelligent guy.”
Late that year, the California State Athletic Commission agreed to sanction mixed martial arts events.
The sport continued to explode in popularity, helped along by Spike TV's “The Ultimate Fighter,” a reality show. Tanner was under consideration to be hired as a Season 2 coach. But four months later, on June 4, he lost his title to Rich Franklin, who was hired instead.
“Evan just missed out on being a superstar,” Meltzer said. “Instead, Rich Franklin became the coach, got the commercial endorsements and became a superstar.”
A changing sport
During the next year, Tanner fought twice, winning one and losing one.
He didn't fight again for two years. In interviews and on his blog, he wrote about traveling the country on his Harley-Davidson motorcycle, working odd jobs and drinking too much.
Then last year, he showed up at the Compound Mixed Martial Arts & Fitness Gym in Oceanside. Owner Claudia Ortega recognized him immediately.
“He wasn't in a very good place at that point,” said Ortega, who detected signs of alcoholism. “He indicated he wanted to get back in the fight game.”
Tanner moved to Vegas to train and was soon under contract by the UFC.
In March, he lost his first comeback fight. In June, he was likely told if he didn't win the next fight, he would be dropped from the UFC roster, Meltzer said. He lost in a split decision.
Tanner was humiliated. Years of too much drinking had taken a toll on his body that nine months of intense training hadn't erased, he wrote.
“I know I looked really bad. I don't need to see it, or hear about it to know that ... ,” he wrote. “I obviously haven't been the same guy in the ring.”
Though Tanner was a natural competitor, the sport was rapidly changing. Top fighters now train year-round and get a cut of the pay-per-view revenue, bringing in from $2 million to $3 million for a big fight, Meltzer said.
Tanner, who'd made $38,000 when he won the middleweight title, wrote about visiting a doctor in Oregon to help him get “back on track,” and dedicating himself to fighting.
But first, he was going to spend several weeks in the desert, for a chance at solitude, to think and to test himself against the elements.
He assured worried fans that he'd researched his destination and had packed survival gear. He understood the danger. “Any failure of my equipment, might cost me my life.”
Calling for help
Police suspect Tanner set off from Oceanside Sept. 3, turned off Highway 78 near Palo Verde (population: 236) headed onto unpaved Milpitas Wash Road, then cut west into the rocky, trail-less desert, barren except for the odd mesquite tree or creosote bush.
The next day, he told friends in text messages that if they didn't hear from him by the next morning, they should call for help. He was near Clapp Spring and running out of gas and water.
They made the call when no further word came. Marine helicopters from Yuma Air Station and local search and rescue volunteers scoured the area.
Rescue crews found his camp, where he still had several pouches filled with water, that Sunday.
On Monday, they found his body two miles from camp and several miles from the spring. He was carrying a GPS device. There was an empty water pouch nearby.
Police suspect Tanner may have been hiking to or from Clapp Spring, which is described on the Bureau of Land Management's Web site as a palm oasis and permanent water source for wildlife. Locals say Clapp Spring is little more than a muddy patch that supports a few palm trees but does not have enough water to drink.
An autopsy ruled the cause of death was heat exhaustion. Police have ruled out suicide and foul play. The results of toxicology tests may take up to three months.
In the weeks after his death, Tanner's friends and family have been asking themselves why, if he was in trouble, he told them to delay in calling for help.
One clue might come from his blog. In July, he wrote about running out of gas in his 650-pound Harley and pushing it for two hours along a country road, semi trucks roaring by, until he found a gas station. He didn't call friends because he didn't want them to have to get out of bed to come get him.
On his final weekend in the desert, perhaps Tanner didn't want to force others to come to his rescue. Perhaps the heat was getting to him, and he wasn't making rational decisions. Or maybe the former UFC champ felt he could withstand even the harshest physical test.
“I think there's something to the idea that he wanted to go to the edge, just being out there and going to the extreme,” Meltzer said.
Former UFC Champ Evan Tanner
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Originally Posted by David Jamieson
