It takes a special kind of man to look at his own family – two daughters, son and wife/mother/diva – and think, “You know what would be good for us? Reality television.” Obviously, that kind of man is Antonio McKee. We all know McKee never saw a camera he wasn’t dying to hog and now that he’s finally about to make his UFC debut against Jacob Volkmann in January, we can only assume he thought it was a no-brainer to self-produce the above reality show “pilot” and release it to the Internets. That displays a brand of foresight, ingenuity and business savvy that few fighters have. It also shows a kind of shocking self-importance, even for a dude who could never be accused of modesty or discretion or even being able to tell a good idea from a bad one.
Then you watch nine-plus minutes of “The McKee’s Untamed” and you have admit: Damn, maybe he’s right. The McKee family is certainly just as entertaining as, say, the Osbournes or Kardashians or whichever bewigged aging rockstar VH-1 manages to dig up next. Actually, it doesn’t even take nine minutes. As soon as you hit the family introductions and see the low-budget glam shots of mother/wife/diva Jen (particularly the one of her holding that dagger … classy …) you’re hooked. By the time you get a load of Kenny, Antonio’s tatted-up “assistant/man nanny” it’s clear that what we have here is a crew of people with the wherewithal to shoot and edit a video of themselves, but absolutely no concept of whether or not they should shoot and edit a video of themselves. Next stop: Comedy gold.
We get less than two minutes into “The McKee’s Untamed” before we learn that Antonio (who self-identifies as MMA Fighter/Father/Mentor/Coach/Gym Owner/Trainer) doesn’t really know how to spell the name of his youngest daughter, Mieli, and while he’s pretty good with the kids’ birthdays he can’t be expected to get them all right. And in his defense, that is NOT how you spell Miley. Oh, and if you don’t expect Antonio McKee to just kick it at the house in a velour sweat suit with a gold chain and no shirt underneath, well, you must be some kind of noob.
Far and away the most illuminating footage we see here comes when the McKees sit down to family dinner. Not only do the sexual innuendos and butt jokes flow like wine, we also find out that the family is under no illusions of what kind of man he is. During a discussion of some trouble that son AJ (wrestler/skater) has been having at school — which McKee naturally attributes to a conspiracy against himself – the diva/mother/wife warns the son/wrestler/skater that the worst thing that could possibly happen is that his dad shows up at the school.
“You do not want your dad coming up there and acting a fool at that school,” she says. “Oh. My. God, and he will.”
“Sweet baby Jesus,” says AJ (wrestler/skater), shuddering at the thought.
(Ed. Note: Hey, wait a second. There are children in today’s society who identify as both wrestlers *and* skaters? Do not tell Matt Hughes about this, you guys.)
From there on out it’s pretty much just normal family stuff: They accuse their son of crying at the dinner table, Antonio gets in trouble for drinking the baby’s juice (guess he’s not cutting out the sugar), all hell almost breaks loose when McKee finds some cigarettes in AJ’s stuff and then they all roll out for family pedicures. You know, typical Norman Rockwell type shit.
All in all, it’s way more fun than actually watching Antonio McKee fight … and Kenny doesn’t even show his face. Guess we’ll have to stay tuned for episode two.