“Reaching For Those Grapes” and the myth of Tantalus: The Tragedy of Tito Ortiz

I’m going to assume that we’re all familiar with the all-timer of a response Tito had in the lead up to the third Liddell fight, a fight which many observers have argued never happened because it made them sad.

Jealous of HIM? This guy can’t even put a fu-in’ sentence together, man, are you kidding me right now? He’s…He’s reaching for, he’s reaching for those grapes. He’s trying to make his wine. And the wine’s already sounding…like a violin, with that cheese and wine. Umm. …we’ll see on November 24th.

It’s easy to dismiss this as just another manifestation of Tito’s inner struggles with the English language, one battle in an endless war, but closer examination is rewarded with a deep look into the mind of one of the greatest light heavyweights, of the night.

To truly appreciate this surrealist verbal performance, we need to go back to the Greeks and the myth of Tantalus. (Emphasis mine)

Tantalus’s punishment for his act was to stand in a pool of water beneath a fruit tree with low branches. Whenever he reached for the fruit, the branches raised his intended meal from his grasp. Whenever he bent down to get a drink, the water receded before he could get any.

What was Tito saying by drawing such an overt comparison to a figure who looms so large in the canon of western culture?

I posit that Tito wasn’t talking about Chuck Liddell, but himself. Like Tantalus, Tito is tormented by something he desires but remains just out of reach; he knows what he wants to say, he’s capable of pronouncing every word in the sentence, but when he tries to put it all together the whole is less than the sum of its parts.

Eloquence will forever remain in his sight, tantalizing him (because this myth, as I’m sure Tito knows, is the origin of that word) but forever escaping his grasp.

Tito is reaching for those grapes. He’s a tragic figure, and with this statement he acknowledges it, owns it, cries out to the heavens to ask if he’ll ever be able to make his wine: the mead of poetry.

We’ll see on November 24th.