The golden age of MMA individuality is fading, and one man who witnessed it all is RVCA co-founder Pat Tenore. But here's where it gets controversial: as the sport has exploded in popularity, the unique, raw essence that once defined it—particularly in fighter apparel—has been largely lost. Remember when fighters like B.J. Penn strutted into the octagon with custom-designed trunks or signature shirts? Those days are becoming a distant memory, and it’s sparking a debate about what MMA has gained—and lost—in its journey to the mainstream.
And this is the part most people miss: during the 2000s, brands like Affliction, Tapout, and RVCA weren’t just sponsors—they were cultural pillars of the sport. Tenore, whose brand initially focused on skateboarding and surfing, found himself drawn to MMA through his passion for jiu-jitsu. His collaboration with fighters like B.J. Penn wasn’t just about selling gear; it was about celebrating the individuality and grit of each athlete. “MMA was still in its pioneering days,” Tenore recalls. “We were breaking new ground, and it wasn’t always smooth sailing. Surfers and skaters didn’t always get it, but we saw the integrity and potential in what we were doing.”
Tenore’s designs, like Penn’s iconic black belt fight trunks, became symbols of a bygone era—one where fighters could express their identity through their walkout gear. But as MMA gained legitimacy, thanks in part to figures like the Fertitta brothers and Dana White, the sport’s underground spirit began to wane. Here’s the bold truth: associating with MMA in its early days wasn’t always met with open arms. “It hindered our growth initially,” Tenore admits. “People didn’t understand why a lifestyle brand like RVCA was diving into combat sports. But we were driven by passion, not just profit.”
The turning point came around 2009 when the UFC introduced a tax on sponsors appearing in the cage. A few years later, the sport took another hit with the exclusive Reebok (now Venum) apparel deal, which standardized fight kits and restricted fighters from showcasing their personal brands. While Tenore holds no grudges—“It’s just the evolution of the sport,” he says—he can’t help but reminisce about the lost individuality. “Fighters used to wear what they wanted, and that’s just not the case anymore,” he reflects.
Today, Tenore continues to leave his mark with his new brand, TENŌRE, collaborating with athletes like Nate Diaz and the Ruotolo brothers. But the question remains: Is the standardization of MMA apparel a necessary step forward, or has the sport sacrificed too much of its soul? Let us know your thoughts in the comments—is the loss of fighter individuality a price worth paying for MMA’s mainstream success?
