The people around me saved my life, not MMA. It was people who said, 'You're better than this,' who told me, 'You don't belong in this world.' MMA and jiu-jitsu and training gave me an escape.
— Brian Ortega
I don't want to spend all the money I've made and then have to hustle fight to fight.
I really love to help kids that are struggling and going through a tough time, and I want to be a positive light on them.
When I get in there, I try to really make sure there's no quit in me and that whoever I fight is going to have a long night.
I think I'm pretty marketable when it comes to marketing fighters 'cause I've met a lot of 'em, and they're not that interesting. They don't do too many things, or their days are not like my days.
For me, I love doing what is said can't be done.
I've never met a fighter who said, 'I love cutting weight.'
I was sitting around, moping and feeling badly for myself. I went to the hospital to visit a child, and it hit me: helping people is what I'm meant to do.
I have my parents to keep me in check, a team that loves me, and I have the ability to go out there, dream, and chase it.
The Harbor Area is everything - Carson, Wilmington, San Pedro, Long Beach, that whole little bubble that I grew up in. I always throw it up after I finish fighting, I always throw up the Harbor Area. Out of pride. It made me who I am. It brought me my goods; it brought me my bads. It molded me into who I am.
I knew what I wanted to do with my life: I wanted to fight.
I always try not to look too far ahead. I just look far enough to know where I'm going next.
All I do is just live in the gym.
Pretty much, I was a hometown fighter, and everyone was pulling for me. Now I'm a hometown fighter again. It's a lot of pressure because you don't want to let people down. They're yelling your name and chanting for you.
I got to share the Octagon with Clay Guida. I got to share the Octagon with Cub Swanson. Now I'm going to share the Octagon with Frankie Edgar. These are things that, as a fighter, you always dream of.
Sometimes it takes me a little longer to kick into my gears.
Ultimately, I'm here to fight the best. I'm not here to stay in and get a couple paychecks. I'm here to do my best while I can and while I'm fresh and make a name for myself.
On my block, I had all these guys coming in and out of jail. When I was 13, I was playing outside my house, and one of those guys came across the street and started cussing me out, wanting to fight me. People knew I trained kickboxing and would put the gloves on with my friends, so that made me a target.
I believe we all have a responsibility to try to help other people in this world. To me, my ability to help and to do good for others will only increase if I'm more known and get to that really super elite level. That would be the huge benefit for me. It would put me in a position where I could just help more people.
I'll do things that a lot of people think is very risky.
I saw my first UFC fight when I was 15 and figured, 'This is what I want to do when I grow up.'
My whole thing is I don't want to break mentally. I want to find comfort in uncomfortable situations.
I love being the underdog. I'm cool in my dog house.
I'm human, and we all make mistakes. But just because you're knocked down, you don't have to stay down. Get up and fight.
You know how it is: you're a kid, and you see your parents do something, you tend not to want to follow that and do your own thing.
There's little windows that open up during the fight, to finish your opponent. Whenever those windows open, I'm jumping right through them without hesitation.
My fifth pro fight, I got my first title fight.
I dropped out or got kicked out of four high schools.
When I go in to fight week, I go, 'Maybe I'm going to be that guy on the highlight reel that gets knocked out.' I'm always thinking, 'How am I going to react? Am I going to be a sore loser?' I'm almost checking myself in case something bad happens.
Training full-on year round is great, and I love to stay in shape and always being ready, but I feel sometimes I don't have a life.
I like super fights. I want super fights. I want guys that I can match up well where people don't know what going to happen.
I'm the kind of guy who, if you tell me you can't do something, like, 'Brian, you can't do a backflip off that two-floor building,' and I'm going to give it a shot.
All glory to God. I'm nothing.
It's a little weird: you're headlining a show on TV, and obviously, people like to associate that with material things. I drive a - what is it - 1999 Chevy Blazer. There's no more cushion on the driver's seat, and the tires are about gone.
Obviously it's great to train at home and not have to travel and stay in the same time zone. That's always great.
Cub Swanson's a guy you either get through or you don't, and I fought him when he was on a nice winning streak.
I am who I am. I'm a cool person, and I don't think I need to sell myself. I'm just going to let the fights keep talking.
Ultimately, I feel like I'm doing everything right. I'm slowly but surely climbing up the ladder. I'm taking out bigger names with every fight. Not just beating them on a point level - I'm finishing every single one of my opponents.
Fighting was a problem for me in high school.
I want to go out and help people and share love where love is needed.
To bring out the best in someone, you really have to push them.
Fighting is great, but I can't do it forever.
As a pro, in the beginning, I had to sell tickets to get paid. So you gotta be a hustler, and you gotta worry about fighting.
A lot of people have these fancy facilities, these fancy training atmospheres, high-tech this and that... I believe it's about the fighter and how much work is he willing to put. I'm trying to show the world that I can make it happen from a garage. People don't believe it, but I know how to work with what I've got to get to the top.
As much as I dream, I have nightmares.
Two good, large fights a year is good enough for me.
I come from a city where we really didn't have too many role models.
Sometimes when you get eager, you get sloppy. Sometimes when you get sloppy, you get knocked out.
I keep training hard, keep working out, keep looking at my fights, and I wonder, 'If I was to fight me, how would I beat me?' It's like having a boat with a bunch of holes. I'm trying to patch up all the holes. If I was to fight myself, I'd take advantage of certain things. I've got to know my opponent is thinking the same thing.
