LOVE AT FIRST FIGHT

Denver-based mixed martial artist Cat Zingano readies for what could be the greatest day of her life — a year after the worst day of her life.

Part I

This is what happens when you pour your everything into something. When you push your body to a limit it’s not supposed to physically go, and complement this lunacy with a mental punishment that hurts more than an axe kick to the face.

The toughest woman in Denver runs and hides in a far corner of a gym locker room. She crumbles. Tears pour out like blood.

It’s Jan. 14, 2015, one year and one day after the worst day of Cat Zingano’s life. The mixed martial arts fighter is preparing for what could be one of the best days of her life, when she contends for the Ultimate Fighting Championship title. But on this day she’s suffocated by emotions — of loved ones lost — and concern about her upcoming fight after a sloppy sparring session. She’s not herself, so she hides.

A stranger saunters into the locker room, spots her curled up and sobbing and says, “It’s OK, it’s OK.”

“And I’m thinking, ‘It’s not OK! She didn’t fight. She doesn’t know what I’m doing,” Zingano said later. “All she sees is me crying. Clearly she was trying to be helpful, but I needed her to go away, now. So I just said, ‘Thank you’ and put my head against the wall.”

Saturday night, the 32-year-old Zingano (9-0) will fight for the UFC women’s bantamweight title, the headline bout on a pay-per-view card at Staples Center in Los Angeles. Her opponent, reigning champion Ronda Rousey (10-0), is an Olympic bronze medalist in judo, a star of action movies, a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model. She’s a giant in the sport.

Zingano, by contrast, is a relative unknown, having built a career that has been both rocky and “Rocky,” from her modest start wrestling at Boulder’s Fairview High School.

In her corner on fight night she will have two coaches and two close friends. But the one man she most wanted by her side won’t be there, and it’s one reason she was balled up and bawling in the locker room on this January night.

“Sometimes I have to break,” Zingano said. “But I won’t stay broken.”

Part II

Mauricio Zingano gave her a quick kiss and a bro hug before the massacre. No mascara here. Cat’s husband, his shaved head bobbing to the beat of pre-fight music, stood behind her while the cut man lathered Vaseline on her face.

An accomplished Brazilian jiu jitsu coach, Mauricio guided Cat’s transformation from wrestler to mixed martial artist out of the gym they co-owned in Broomfield. Now, on April 13, 2013 , they’re in the spotlight at the Mandalay Bay arena in Las Vegas for her biggest fight yet, against Miesha Tate.

As she walked into the frenzied venue, leading her team’s procession to the cage, Zingano started sobbing. A national TV audience tweeted about her tears. Crying before a fight? They must have wondered if Zingano was in over her head.

But this is who she is — raw and real, no apologies.

“It’s like, ‘Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, it’s about to start,’” Zingano said, recalling her swing of emotions. “But once that door is closed and you’re in there, it’s like, ‘Screw it, you’ve gotta go, now.’”

But when the cage door closes behind her, she’s all alone.

Part III

Brayden

Motivation Zingano’s 8-year-old son, Brayden, keeps her going. (Photo via Cat Zingano)

“What’s up, stud!” Zingano’s coach, Leister Bowling, hollered to Brayden Zingano.

An hour before Cat’s Jan. 14 breakdown, she walked into MusclePharm gym in the Montbello neighborhood of Denver, greeted by a family of fighters of all shapes and sizes, many with cauliflower ears, tattoos crawling down their arms and T-shirts screaming outrageous mantras (“FIGHTING IS IN MY DNA”).

She was the only athlete on the mats who brought a child, her bubbly son Brayden, 8. Within minutes, Brayden climbed inside the black-wired Octagon, playfully sparring with a professional fighter twice his height. At MusclePharm, it’s as if everyone is Brayden’s fun uncle.

Soon, Brayden was swinging on nearby gymnast rings as a sparring partner slammed his mom around a cage. It was ugly. When Cat’s four five-minute practice rounds ended, she escaped to the women’s locker room.

About 45 minutes later, she emerged and sat on a bench near the Octagon, her eyes weathered and red. A jovial visitor tried to get her to loosen up, but she wasn’t having any of it. Cat’s friend and fellow fighter, Brandon Thatch, began rubbing her shoulders.

“I love you. You know we all love you,” he told her.

Love.

She grapples with love. She loves her son, her sport and her support. But love also took her for a ride.

“When it all comes down to it, he had my heart, all wrapped up,” Zingano said recently, while Sam Smith’s “Stay With Me” played faintly in the background at the gym. “I never felt like that about anybody. And I don’t imagine feeling like that about anybody again.”

Part IV

T.U.F. 17 Zingano defeated Miesha Tate via TKO in the third round of The Ultimate Fighter finale in April 2013.

Miesha Tate waited for Cat that April 2013 night in Vegas as Mauricio peered into the Octagon. Tate, a former champion in the Strikeforce series. Tate, an overwhelming favorite.

And there was more on the line than a shiny belt. Zingano vs. Tate was an elimination bout, with the winner earning a title shot against Rousey. It would be the first UFC women’s championship. It also meant a fat TV contract to coach a team in the 18th season of “The Ultimate Fighter,” the UFC’s reality TV competition show.

One woman would get a career break. So who would break first?

Tate sprinted out when the horn sounded, grabbed Zingano around the waist and, just five seconds in, slammed Cat to the mat.

With her back flat under Tate’s barrage, Zingano slipped a perfect escape to regain her feet. Within a minute, Zingano seized control. She folded Tate’s head under the crook of her elbow, working toward a guillotine choke, with all her leverage in the legs, a tenet of wrestling.

Part V

Mauricio and Cat

Power Couple Cat, shown with her husband Mauricio, posted this photo on Facebook shortly after his death in January 2014. (Photo via Cat Zingano)

She was the only girl on the boys’ team. At Fairview High, Zingano — then Cathilee Albert — wrestled at 130 and 135 pounds. Her parents hated the idea.

“I loved it,” she said.

She devoured the sport. In the offseason, she showed up at gyms looking to learn. She pushed her way into a practice session at nearby Lyons High, where some of the area’s top prep wrestlers worked out. She wanted to wrestle the best.

Leister Bowling, on his way to becoming a three-time Colorado champion, didn’t want Zingano anywhere near his mat. This was a boys’ club. In a practice session, he intentionally shattered her cheekbone.

“He tried to make me quit all the time,” Zingano said of the wrestler who, sure enough, would one day become one of her coaches. “They were like: ‘Oh, this chick thinks she’s going to go with us? She’s never going to wrestle again after this.’”

Cat returned the next day.

“I got beat up a lot, but it made me really tough,” she said.

Wrestling defined Zingano. It gave her a purpose through high school. It propelled her to college. It allowed her to dream of making the 2004 U.S. women’s Olympic team.

Then her world fell apart.

Cat was a freshman at the University of the Cumberlands in Williamsburg, Ky., when one of her closest friends back home, 17-year-old Mary Rogers, was found tortured and killed in Westminster. Rogers’ boyfriend was later convicted of first-degree murder.

“I don’t feel like I recovered from that,” Zingano said of her time in college in the early 2000s. “She was one of my best friends since I was 8 years old. It was really traumatic. Now I look back, and I just feel — a lot of my drive for what I wanted to do with wrestling was smoldered by that.”

She came home from college. Her Olympic dream now faded, she stepped away from the wrestling mats. It would be years before she got back on. In 2007, now a new mother, Cat walked into Zingano Brazilian Jiu Jitsu gym in Broomfield.

She saw Mauricio, one of the instructors. He suggested she take a jiu jitsu class. It was love at first fight — with the sport and the instructor.

“I was in awe of him, how strong he was, how talented he was,” Cat said of Mauricio, twice a national Brazilian jiu jitsu champ. “The presence he carried, he was just so bold and impressive. And he really made me laugh.”

On a gym trip to Water World, Cat recalled in a soft voice, “He held my hand.” Though she was wary of dating her coach, these feelings were new and exciting.

“Finally, I went back to a class,” she said. “And he said, ‘All right, you and me are (sparring)!’ After class, he pulled me aside, and we were connected at the hip after. Always, forever.

“At first, it was perfect. I was so gung-ho on impressing him, being his prodigy, winning every tournament. Everything I did, I wanted to keep handing him trophies: ‘This is for you. I won this.’ I felt like I couldn’t do any wrong. And he was so proud of me.”

They became addicted — to each other, to success. Work hard, fight hard, win hard. But the dynamic was toxic. Her new boyfriend, whom she married in 2010, was also her coach. And her business partner, running multiple gyms. Oh, and they were parents, raising her son, Brayden.

But Mauricio saw greatness in her fists and constantly challenged her to make sacrifices — to eat certain foods, to go for an extra run at night, to learn from criticism at all hours. It became too much.

“I didn’t know who I was talking to,” she said. “I had so much respect for him, I would never say anything. I would look at him as my coach and my boss, but I needed to be able to talk to him like my husband.

“There was depression,” she said of Mauricio. “I feel like we would’ve figured it out eventually, but he made some bad choices to make things worse, and I couldn’t put up with it and have my son around it. I had to do something, but I didn’t know what to do.

“So I left him.”

Part VI

Fighter Profile: Cat Zingano

Bio

Record: 9-0-0; No. 2 bantamweight
Pro since: 2008
Nickname: Alpha
Fights out of: Broomfield
Age: 32
Height: 5-foot-6
Weight: 135 pounds

Pro Fight History

Jun. 13, 2008: W vs. Karina Taylor (submission)
Jan. 10, 2009: W vs. Angela Samaro (submission)
Jan. 30, 2010: W vs. Barb Honchak (decision)
June 5, 2010: W vs. Ivana Coleman (TKO)
Dec. 10, 2010: W vs. Carina Damm (TKO)
May 14, 2011: W vs. Takayo Hashi (KO)
Oct. 6, 2012: W vs. Raquel Pennington (submission)
April 13, 2013: W vs. Miesha Tate (TKO)
Sept. 27, 2014: W vs. Amanda Nunes (TKO)

Tate wriggled out of the guillotine. She flung a rigid jab that landed on Zingano’s chin, stunning Cat. Tate would land 23 significant strikes, 21 at Zingano’s head.

As she weathered Tate’s blows, Cat grew more aggressive. This is her great trait in the cage: Hit me and I’ll hit you harder.

Mauricio taught her how to do so in a brutal introduction to a vicious sport.

“He stood me in the corner of a boxing ring and just teed off on me — on my face, everything,” she said. “He was trying to teach me to not turn when I was being hit. Because I don’t like getting hit, like a regular human. I would be crying, bawling. He had another student doing it to me too. And then they would tell me when to shoot — and I would go for a takedown right away so they’d stop hitting me.

“I yelled, ‘Stop hitting me!’ It happens every fight. Nobody likes getting hit. But when somebody gets a good one off on me, it makes me really mad. I just want to make it stop. I want to punish them.”

Tate was about to be punished.

Part VII

Cat Zingano practice

Zingano at MusclePharm gym in Broomfield, preparing for UFC 184.

Cat Zingano rest

Training sessions are often a mix of sweat and tears for Zingano.

Now living apart and in marriage counseling, the Zinganos agreed to meet at the play area at FlatIron Crossing mall in Broomfield. It was Jan. 12, 2014. They could share some quality Brayden time. A chance to be a family again.

Mauricio never showed.

Cat called. She called again. Mauricio never missed a meeting with Brayden. She called again. Where is this guy? She drove to his home, saw his car out front.

“I was afraid to go in,” she said, “because I didn’t know what that meant I was going to find.”

So she drove home and kept dialing his number, deep into the night. Each time there was a simultaneous feeling of hope and hopelessness. Just answer and everything will be all right, won’t it?

The following day, she asked one of their jiu jitsu students to go by Mauricio’s home. But the student never called back. So Cat finally went to the house.

Cop cars.

“Are you Cat?” a detective asked her.

She didn’t know what to say.

“I can only tell you what happened if you’re Cat,” the detective said.

“Fine, I’m Cat.”

Reflecting back at that moment, Cat recalled how she didn’t realize she was screaming, as if she wasn’t in control of her body.

But she was indeed screaming, incessantly, the same three words, over and over: “WHAT THE (EXPLETIVE)?”

Mauricio was dead. Suicide. Age 37.

Part VIII

Mauricio and Cat postfight

Celebration Mauricio lifted Cat like a trophy after her TKO victory against Miesha Tate in 2013. (Photo via Cat Zingano)

When she won the biggest fight of her life, Cat screamed, “I love you Brayden!” into a camera lens while her husband lifted her like a trophy inside the cage.

Cat unleashed a primal scream and one final punch into the air, while Mauricio shouted “No. 1!” with his wife in his arms.

Cat defeated Tate with a hard-to-watch sequence of four consecutive knees to the face while holding Tate’s head in a vice grip. TKO 2:55, third round.

It was all falling into place.

But one month later, right before the May 2013 filming began for “The Ultimate Fighter,” Cat tore the anterior cruciate ligament in her left knee. Cat’s title shot with Rousey was canceled. The UFC replaced her with, of all people, Tate.

And Mauricio’s downward spiral began.

Part IX

How do you tell a boy his dad is dead?

Cat opened the bedroom door that night, and there was her innocent child, sleeping in bed.

“I had to wake him up,” she said. “I feel like every catastrophe in our lives you remember exactly where you were, what you were doing, who you were with, almost down to what you were wearing. I get one shot at this.”

The detective told her to speak directly. Trying to soften the moment only makes it worse.

He’s dead. Gone. Dad is gone.

“That,” she recalled, “was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

How do you teach a boy to cope with death, when you don’t know how?

Cat and Brayden often visit Judi’s House to meet with a group of people who have also lost a loved one to suicide. Founded by former Broncos quarterback Brian Griese, who lost his mother when he was 12, Judi’s House is a haven for grieving kids who lost a parent, so they don’t have to feel alone.

Alone. A haunting theme in Cat’s life. Alone in the ring. Alone as a parent. Alone as a wife. A widow. She’s often surrounded — by fans and coaches and Brayden and friends — but she can’t always cover herself from emotions.

“Catch me any time of the day, I’m either (upset) at him, happy with him, in love with him, mad at him,” Cat said of Mauricio, whom she still refers to as “my husband” in conversations.

“I want to get all of this (fighting success) for us, and everything that we’ve done, and all the work we’ve put into it. He lost his damn mind. And that sucks, because he was a very strong, very smart, very intense and awesome person.

“For my son to lose his dad and in that kind of way, I don’t know how to put this, but — I don’t want to quit, because I don’t want that to be embedded in him from more than one angle.”

Part X

Brayden

Hell and back Zingano says she doesn’t know a fighter who hasn’t dealt with some kind of pain.

Now Brayden is hiding. It’s a February night at MusclePharm gym, and he’s crouching inside a giant tractor tire, the kind they make weightlifters turn over as a cruel drill. He’s playing hide-and-seek. A woman looks for him, and soon other fighters join in the playful search.

The obvious hiding spot is under the cage, where his mom, in padded headgear, is sparring. After recovering from the knee injury, Cat finally got her shot at Rousey — a chance to bloody the female face of the UFC.

The cage at MusclePharm gym is really a stage, and underneath is a space a few feet high, covered by a curtain. Someone flips up the curtain — he’s gotta be under here, right? — but he’s not. Where did Brayden go?

Finally, he pops out of the giant tire, and he flashes a mischievous smile.

This gym, this community, is his comfort zone. Mom’s too. Here, you can be alone in the tire, or alone in the cage, but you’re surrounded by warmth.

“To be honest,” Cat said, “I think part of the connection with Brayden and all of my teammates is that every fighter has gone through hell at some point in their life.

“With Brayden, they all know what happened, and they see a kid that is going through something — and whatever color it is of what they’ve gone through, they can identify with him, and they want to be there for him. It’s really sweet. And it’s really cool and comforting.

“And I don’t know a single fighter who doesn’t have some kind of pain that they’ve dealt with.”