When anthropologist-turned-mystical writer Carlos Castaneda retired from the public eye back in 1973, he disappeared into a secretive cult of his own making. His dozen books on shamanism are read to this day by millions of people. One reader in particular, a coach in Ukraine, became so influenced by the writer’s work that he used it to create a harrowing cult to control fighters for financial gain.

One fighter was lucky enough to get away.

Cult is a largely notorious term.

Broken down to its simplest form, a cult is a social or religious group with a novel set of beliefs, a deviation from social standard, fighting against the conveyer belt of conformity, under the control of an individual or individuals who use those beliefs to exert control over the other believers.

Infamous ones such as the Manson Family, Jim Jones’ People’s Temple and Heaven’s Gate all festered peculiar practices, much of which were illegal and helped bring about their demise. The aforementioned three were no exception; life sentences, suicide, and sexually transmitted diseases awaited them at the finish line. However, others were nothing more than multi-level marketing scams that did little other than entangle followers in drama for several years before fizzling out.

Could a cult of some sort find its way into the fighting world? Had you asked me prior to this past April, I would have scoffed at the suggestion. Perhaps I was naive to the ways in which gym culture can form dangerous bonds of trust and create openings for abuse of power.

I could not have been more wrong. Seated across the table from veteran heavyweight Konstantin Gluhov, I was submerged into the dark world of combat sports occultism and the wake of anguish left in its path.

"Of course it was a cult. Yuri wasn’t just crazy. He had it all planned very carefully."

The aforementioned Yuri is Gluhov’s former coach and mentor, the occultist leader who manipulated the heavyweight fighter for well over a decade. It was one of MMA’s best-kept secrets until Gluhov spoke out after leaving the country.

Few have any substantial knowledge of this man, Yuri, yet his destructive legacy stems back generations.

Photo via Konstantin Gluhov

"He trained four people before me. He did the same thing with those people.

"They were — how you say — hypnotized."

Less than 30 seconds into the conversation, we had already touched on the topic of brainwashing.

"They fell under his influence. Two of those guys are dead now. One of the guys got shot in the 90s during some kind of gang-related stuff. The trainer was also involved in some criminal activities in the 90s, and the student who got shot was involved with that, too, with the trainer. The second guy died because of alcoholism. He was under pressure, just like I was, and he just gave up.

"Two of the other guys who are still alive, one escaped to Canada and the second one is an alcoholic." Gluhov smiles sadly remembering the former cult members.

I met Konstantin, who I informally refer to as Kostya, on a tranquil Thursday afternoon in Moscow.

It was in the lobby of the Aquarium Hotel, a Spartan style hotel with the necessities for accommodation minus the luxury typically associated with Russia’s capital city. Technically, we were not even in Moscow. We were in Krasnagorsk, a suburb located approximately 20 miles outside of the city. It was Russian promotion M-1 Global’s home for the week, as they prepared to host their latest event among the Muscovites. I was part of the English commentary team, while Kostya was one of the featured attractions on the card.

Our meeting was supposed to be nothing more than a simple lunch — an arranged acquaintance by a man who was very anxious for me to hear the fighter’s story.

I didn’t expect much. This was my second trip to Russia and I knew how hard it could be to communicate with someone who cannot decipher anything apart from your hand gestures; it does not make for grand storytelling.

Seated at a table in the far corner of the hotel lobby, a section for private dining during the daytime, I tried to dress down my blue cardigan, which, along with my navy blue jeans, was a little too close to the aquarium theme the hotel bolstered. I spotted Kostya a few tables to my left occupied with a blonde woman, whom I would later learn is his wife. Also seated at his table was a longtime training partner of his, Igor Mesmer.

Igor’s English was impeccable and he would end up serving as mediator between myself and Kostya; our determined translator.

Kostya motioned me over to his table and signaled his wife, who was sitting diagonally across from him on a standard four-top, to pull out a seat for me next to her. By that time I was mid-meal, so I picked up my plate of spaghetti Bolognese, crossed my fork and knife, and took my seat in front of the heavyweight.

Kostya is a hulking figure: 6"2’ and well over 240 pounds, even ahead of weigh-ins. Clad in a white t-shirt permeated with sponsorship logos, plain navy blue tracksuit bottoms, and topped with a simple white cap with the logo BAKER, he was an intimidating sight to behold from the first. At some point, I didn’t notice amid our conversation, he took the cap off to reveal a perfectly shaved head.

His giant hand engulfed mine as I introduced myself to Kostya, as well as his training partner, who doubled as corner man that week, Igor. His wife raised her hand and offered me a polite smile.

I fidgeted in my seat, inhaled deeply and hit the record button.

The Coach’s Cult

Kostya met Yuri back in 2001.

21 years old at the time, Kostya had already won the IKF European Kickboxing title, as well as the WPKA heavyweight championship of Asia. With the spiritedness of a man who had never faced defeat, Kostya’s desire for greater success swelled.

Yuri, like any experienced coach, was drawn to Kostya’s talent, aware of the success a talented fighter like Kostya might attain if he were to apply himself. However, the focal point of Yuri’s attraction was not the heavyweight’s skill, but his ambition.

"Yuri felt this yearning, so as time went by, he put his ideas into practice," Kostya said through his training partner, Igor.

Initially, Yuri’s gym, which was located in Kiev, Ukraine, hosted approximately 15 hopefuls, all keen to find their fortune in combat sports. Most worked day jobs, had families, and — in Yuri’s eyes — just didn’t belong in the life of a full-time fighter. Instead, he turned his attention to his chalk horse.

"I was sort of the main guy, and the trainer wanted to get money real quick from his job, so he focused on him. Eventually, I was the only one left."

Photo via Konstantin Gluhov

At first, it was exactly what Kostya desired: unwavering attention from an experienced coach willing to part with his knowledge. Yuri cared about him, both professionally and personally, treated him as though he were family, and offered him support and advice that would put an average mentor to shame.

While Kostya grew in appreciation, Yuri quietly plotted his own subtle metamorphosis.

"It was very well thought out and planned on a consecutive basis, day by day, starting from 2002 when I started competing professionally. Yuri implemented his ideas day-by-day. I became a stepson to Yuri and became a part of his family.

"Yuri’s family, his wife and two of his sons all said that I was like a son to the coach."

Financial gain would become Yuri’s driving motivation for the entire duration of their partnership. It began with Kostya’s family. Yuri, aware of the exceptional influence Kostya’s father exercised on his son, plotted to eliminate the elder Gluhov from the picture.

"I was brought into Yuri’s family and removed from my own. Yuri pushed them away."

While greed and manipulation drove Yuri’s occultist ideology, it also reeked of necessity and dependence — without Kostya, Yuri would have no income to live off. His entire family was unemployed and disinterested in the daily working lives of common folk.

"There was no income except for all the money they stole from me over the years."

Kostya shuddered, recalling Yuri’s wife and daughter. He had come to the conclusion that they were the main influence on Yuri — the devil on his shoulder. They were a part of his decision making, even controlled him on numerous occasions. Kostya only ever expressed disdain when speaking to me about either of them.

"These two are into voodoo, black magic and stuff."

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Kostya was spending more time in Kiev training with his coach than he did in Latvia or Russia alongside his parents and extended family. During the long periods in Ukraine, Kostya boarded up with Yuri’s family. The gap between Kostya and his own family continued to widen, coach and adopted family on one side, blood family stranded on the other.

"I spent a lot of time living in Kiev with my trainer and that family. I was training but it was done to get me sucked in. Now I understand that the reason was the money.

"It was all about the money."

Slowly but surely, Yuri weaved Kostya into his occultist embroidery. He placed the fighter in a debt of gratitude, slowly separated him from his past, and thus cemented Kostya’s unfaltering allegiance.

Kostya’s dad was the first to be cut off. He, after all, controlled the finances.

"At first it was difficult for the trainer to steal all the money because I had a good relationship with my dad. He was my main sponsor, so all his money went to him and we split it amongst ourselves. It was very difficult for the trainer to take all the money."

Ironically, Kostya’s dad initially saw Yuri as a blessing for his son. After all, Kostya was an undefeated fighter with numerous accolades to his name. He was thankful for Yuri’s presence in Kostya’s life.

"My dad was very happy at the beginning for me, because he saw that his son wanted to train a lot and was doing very good for himself. He was successful at fighting."

Yet once the father took too much of an interest in his son’s profession, Yuri’s defenses kicked in and he marked his territory.

"My dad was trying to get involved in the training process. He asked questions about how the training was going? How his son was doing? So Yuri pushed him off and said that it was none of his business. He told him to stay out of it."

Determined to be a part of his son’s life, he backed off and watched in despair as Yuri’s influence slowly devoured his son.

"As my dad said later, that he just missed the moment when I got sucked into all this. He understood that I got sucked into the coach’s family and understood that if he had tried to give his advice to get me out of it, he would be sent away."

By 2005, Gluhov, now 10-0 in his kickboxing career with several more titles to his name, suffered the first loss of his professional career. It came against Eduard Voznovich, whom he had beaten the previous year en route to the inaugural Drake European Championships tournament title.

A chink had finally appeared in Kostya’s armor, and his coach was not pleased about it. Concerned that he may lose his main investment, Yuri plotted to separate Kostya from his family entirely.

Kostya could no longer have any connection to his past.

"Yuri said that, ‘If you are going to continue living with your parents you are not going to be a good fighter,’" Kostya explained. "Not good fighter, not good person"

The following year, Kostya was spending a month at a time away from his biological family. While he expected the change to appease his coach, who had pressured him for years to separate from his family, Yuri viewed it instead as an opportunity to convince Kosyta to sever ties entirely.

Photo via Konstantin Gluhov

Yuri made himself indispensable to Kostya, while simultaneously convincing the heavyweight that everyone else around him was the exact opposite. He presented himself as Kostya’s sure chance at becoming an elite fighter. All he had to do was prove his commitment.

"My coach told me, ‘Look, the techniques we are showing you, you could easily use to become whatever champion you want, boxing, UFC, it doesn’t matter. But in order for that to be effective, you have to leave your family.’"

The idea of complete detachment from one’s own family seems bizarre and baffling all at the same time. Yet, it is a consistent tool that many have faced as they flocked to various cults around the world. Sometimes it just takes a charismatic leader, one with a keen sense of human emotions and the art of manipulation. According to Kostya, Yuri boasted all those characteristics in spades.

"I’ve come to the conclusion that he is a very good psychologist," reflected Kostya. "He is good at implementing his ideas through speech. He was very good at picking out the moments where you have to pressure a fighter or give him a helping hand. He was very good at maintaining those relations."

Yuri also had a knack for subliminal messages.

"We’d meet up before the training; he says the same thing all over again, five times in a row, then again after training, the same thing again. I was getting brainwashed every time."

It was here that Kostya delved into the inspiration behind Yuri’s belief system. It came from an anthropologist, whose controversial books inspired a generation of hallucinogenic stupors and drug-induced spiritual journeys, a man who revolutionized anthropological studies while simultaneously alienating himself from society.

Carlos Castaneda

The 1960s was a decade defined by the counterculture phenomenon that rose in triumph against established Western values to challenge traditional beliefs and conformity. Apart from the civil rights movements that helped restructure modern society, the 60s proved to be an era of sexual advocacy and discovery, as well as one of experimentation with psychedelic drugs and spiritual peregrinations. The subculture derived from this remarkable social revolution brought with it an environment that was ripe for the influence of a young anthropologist about to publish his thesis documenting his apprenticeship under Yaqui Indian Don Juan Matus.

The Teachings of Don Juan: A Yaqui Way of Knowledge, Carlos Castaneda’s first book, was an instant success. His hands-on approach to the study of anthropology was hailed as ingenious and revolutionary to the field. Yet not only did his academic peers praise Castaneda, he was cannily carving himself a place in the USA’s flourishing counterculture.

Castaneda’s early works were a self-narrative of his experiences with the Yaqui Indians from Northern Mexico, mainly his time under the tutelage of Don Juan. He uncovers the ways of the shamans and seemingly took part in their spiritual rituals. Infamously, Castaneda explored the psychoactive effects of various desert plants including peyote and magic mushrooms. Peyote sparked a drug-induced craze amongst the younger generation in the United States, one that saluted Castaneda’s discoveries and proclaimed him a savior amongst mere mortals.

"A couple of times they tried to make me do drugs before the fight but I got lucky and it didn’t happen."

Castaneda’s controversial revelations outlasted their creator and spread to regions far beyond his imagination. To this day, long after his death, as well as the passing of the rebellious counterculture he helped inspire, his words are still being interpreted as though they were gospel, even though the majority of his work was later discredited and proven false by his peers.

In Kiev, Kostya’s coach, Yuri, came across the American’s teachings and shaped his life, as well as his own personal cult, solely around Castaneda’s philosophy. The teachings not only applied to his students, but his own family as well.

"Castaneda has around 10 books written and they were like a guide or Bible for Yuri and his family."

One who structures his life around shamanistic teachings is certainly not shy about drug consumption; they were seen as spiritual journeys and enablers of enlightenment. Yuri indulged himself in an assortment of psychedelic substances to help develop his mindset. According to Kostya, the drugs consumed Yuri’s mind until he was later convinced that he could foretell the future.

Back in 2012, Gluhov was scheduled to face Fedor Emelianenko’s younger brother Alexander in a feature fight on the M-1 Challenge 38 fight card. The fight came on the heels of a loss to Alexei Kudin that snapped a four-fight T/KO win streak for the heavyweight.

Kostya was seated in the backstage locker room of the Ice Palace Stadium in Moscow, when his coach walked in at a frantic pace. Worried that this his loss would snowball into a losing streak, Yuri decided to illuminate Gluhov’s path with a vision he had seen the previous night.

"Before my fight with Alexander Emelianenko, my trainer looked at me and said, ‘Look, I had a vision last night. This is the stuff you have to do’"

Gluhov went on to lose a unanimous decision to Emelianenko. He dropped to 24-11 in professional MMA.

Photo via M-1 Global

Yuri’s experimentation did not end with psychedelic substances. He, along with his sons, enjoyed the effects of cannabis. It helped relax the mind and allowed them to comfortably enter a state of shamanism. This was applicable to training sessions as well, as Kostya was pressured often to try out its effects before a workout.

"Yuri’s son used to smoke marijuana and hashish a lot. So a couple of times, he got me to smoke weed before. It just shuts your brain off."

It seemed as though Yuri wanted to use cannabis consumption to allow a fighter to limit his ability to think — to create a machine-like competitor who reacts only to his coach’s immediate commands, both during training as well as the actual fight. And of course, more typically, there’s the fact that many fighters constantly suffer from anxiety, which leads to an overworked mind — not exactly the ideal state to be in before a professional fight, according to Kostya.

"The main idea is for me not to think."

Yet his troubles did not end with marijuana. Conveniently labeled a gateway drug, Yuri was determined to use cannabis as a stepping-stone to other substances that could transform Kostya into what he believed would be a ferocious specimen.

He felt constant pressure from Yuri and his sons. He tried to play dumb and ignore their pleas. Sometimes it was merely pure luck and circumstance that saved him.

"A couple of times they tried to make me do drugs before the fight but I got lucky and it didn’t happen. They basically wanted me to use cocaine as well, but it didn’t work out for some reason."

Even though Kostya was able to get out of recreational drugs, Yuri continued to up the ante even further when he suggested — quite strongly — that Kostya should use steroids to maximize his growth and rate of improvement.

"They wanted me to become more powerful. They didn’t care what I did or what was going to happen to my health. They wanted to get the money."

To this day, Kostya swears he has not used performance-enhancing drugs.

A Reluctant Streetfighter

Most professional fighters undergo a fairly standard training regimen ahead of their scheduled bouts. Some choose to spar lightly as a precaution; others choose to replicate a real fight atmosphere in training. Kostya’s coach preferred that his pupil occasionally go beyond the gym to find the necessary training.

Yuri’s suggestion? Old-fashioned street fights.

Kostya recalled numerous times where he was under tremendous pressure to perform. Yuri’s greedy interests weighed on Kostya and he knew that he needed to win to collect the necessary purse and satisfy his adopted father. Sometimes, however, he still wound up with blemishes on his fight record. Those occasions almost never ended well for Kostya.

Already suffering from the typical post-fight depression and deflated confidence of a fighter, following bad performances or embarrassing losses, Kostya would be sent off to the urban regions of Kiev. There he would be egged on by Yuri’s maniacal sons to take part in street fights.

"‘If you’re good at fighting on the street, you’ll be good at fighting in the cage.’ So they pressured me to go and pick fights on the streets with random people. Thank God nothing happened. I was lucky."

Photo via Konstantin Gluhov

There was one occasion Kostya described, where he found himself outnumbered by a gang of drunken hooligans. Yuri’s two sons had riled them up and had underestimated the sheer number of them. Kostya had no interest in fighting, let alone dying on the street. Fortunately for him, Yuri’s sons ran rather than goading him on and all three of them were able to flee to safety from the gang.

But what if they hadn’t narrowly escaped? Kostya could not help but contemplate just how far this crazy family was willing to go to mechanize him.

Yuri continued his forceful ways throughout his time with Kostya. He constantly imposed himself and created tense situations when surrounded by strangers or potential foes.

"Whenever there was a situation, he always covered himself up using me. He used to tell me stories about how he was in Moscow and Kiev in the 1990s and was shooting people left and right in gangs and stuff. He used to say that his knowledge and his techniques were so powerful that he could train for five hours in a row and can knock a guy out in any condition." Kostya shifts in his seat and smiles telling me this story, a knowing look to emphasize Yuri’s cowardice.

UFC veteran Jeff Monson was scheduled to fight Oleksy Olinyk at Oplot Challenge 54 in Kharkiv, Ukraine. He requested Gluhov as a sparring partner to help him prepare for the event. This included accompanying him during the fight as a cornerman. Naturally, Kostya’s coach felt the need to tag along.

He also brought his wife along.

Ukrainian actor, businessman, and athlete Sergey Badyuk had also been invited to corner the American. He too came with an entourage.

Monson lost the fight in disappointing fashion. Battered, bloodied and bruised, the self-proclaimed anarchist made his way backstage to receive medical treatment. It was a tense situation overall, as no one was happy that Monson had lost and each member of the party was eager to take their frustrations out on the other. Badyuk aimed some choice words at Kostya, who immediately fired back with a selection of his own.

Yuri, Kostya’s awe-inspiring trainer, felt the need to involve himself in the argument and started to provoke the much larger Badyuk. Even by Kostya’s standards, Badyuk was a giant of a man. Seated next to Monson to help him with the treatment, Kostya thought to himself, ‘If my coach always says that he can knock people out with no effort at all, then he should have little trouble with Badyuk.’

"He used to say that his knowledge and his techniques were so powerful that he could train for five hours in a row and can knock a guy out in any condition."

He chuckled at the thought. By now, he knew that his coach was a coward and would do anything to avoid direct conflict. However, Yuri had placed himself in a difficult situation. They were in a small locker room with only one exit buried behind the bulging backs of Badyuk and his entourage. Yuri was the smaller man and knew he was moments away from a frightful beating. So he did the one thing he could do: call upon Kostya to rescue him.

"He told me that now was the time to show what I am made of."

Kostya was wary of the situation. While Badyuk was not an MMA fighter and was clearly aware of who was standing across from him, he knew that, given the awkward space in the locker room and the handful of intimidating figures sprinkled about, anything was possible. There were glass bottles, cups, chairs and other objects that could have led to violent outcomes that far surpassed the purposes they were designed for. In the end, he decided to stand by his trainer in the hopes that the conflict would die down.

It worked. The frustrated men dissipated and everyone left the locker room with their limbs intact.

Kostya, however, knew his time with Yuri was coming to an end.

Parting Ways

After hearing all of this, it was hard for me not to question Konstantin’s decision to remain with his coach for over a decade. He suffered profusely, lived under the immense pressure of being financially lucrative, and was isolated from the surrounding world for much of the year, every year.

As we sat across from each other at our table in Moscow, Kostya sensed my suspicions — I wasn’t the first to question his story. Yet he did not appear hurt by my inquisitive expression. Quite the contrary, he offered a comforting smile, one I had gotten used to seeing during the course of our 90-minute lunch; one where your mouth moves the necessary muscles to form a smile, yet the eyes emit nothing but sadness and remorse. It is an expression embroiled on the faces of those who suffer from the agony of the past yet are comforted by the reassurance that it remains in the past.

"I tried to leave in 2006," Kostya said, his eyes fixated on mine as he resurrected the painful memories. "I thought that if I started to lose fights, I would be able to leave."

Desperation had reduced the towering heavyweight to a fighter willing to mar his professional integrity at the expense of personal freedom. Most fighters are never unfortunate enough to have to make that sort of decision. He wished it had never happened, but not because of the losses that blemished his resume.

Photo via M-1 Global

"They felt that I was losing deliberately, so they took me to Kiev for three months. I took a beating there and got brainwashed again.

"After that, I was back to it."

Kostya paused to take a drink of water and our translator Igor stepped in to paint a clearer picture, while his closest friend gathered his thoughts.

"They said that if he would leave them he would be a traitor for a lifetime, and he didn’t want that. He was isolated from his family, his friends, his home — no connections at all — that’s why it was difficult."

It would be another eight years before Konstanin was free from Yuri’s shackles.

In April 2013, Kostya earned a vicious KO win over Valentijn Overeem to defend his heavyweight title under the Pancrase Fighting Championship banner in France. Exactly one year later, he once again separated Overeem from his senses. It was on this day that Kostya decided to part ways with his coach.

The decision was not a hasty one, but Yuri never saw it coming.

"They just couldn’t believe what happened because it was a tremendous loss financially for them. They do nothing so no money was coming in. They couldn’t believe it."

Yuri had grown so accustomed to the staunch Kostya that he overlooked the fact that his cash cow was falling in love with a complete outsider; a woman he met the very same night, a year prior, that Yuri nearly embarrassed himself in the locker room with Jeff Monson.

There to complete his duties as a cornerman, Kostya was introduced to the woman he would eventually marry; a woman who would also become the architect behind his eventual split from Yuri. She provided Kostya with the spark that rekindled his wounded spirit: a belief that there was a life for him beyond that of Yuri’s design.

"My wife helped me understand what was happening and to get away from all these guys."

As one would remove a Band-Aid, Kostya tore away from his sadistic coach — quick and painless… at first. Resorting to mob strong arm tactics, Yuri looked to extort money out of Kostya by threatening those whom he held dear to his heart. One such person was his personal physician in Ukraine, an elderly woman from whom he regularly sought advice with regards to Yuri.

"He basically said ‘if you do not tell him to come back to me and give me his money I am going to do physical damage to you and Kostya’s wife."

It was then that Kostya knew he needed to leave Ukraine and head back home to Latvia, where he could hopefully remain out of Yuri’s reach. He spent two months traveling with his new bride before returning home to settle down once and for all. He resumed his regular schedule and even accepted a fight on M-1 Global’s debut event in Beijing, China last November — his first fight apart from his coach in 13 years.

As for Yuri, well, his future did not turn out so great.

"We heard about him recently, like three weeks ago. There was a new MMA gym opening in Riga and he told the fighters that he would show them stuff and make them champions.

"They told him to get lost."