Wednesday afternoon marked the end of an era in UFC & mixed martial arts history, as Hall of Famer & former light heavyweight champ Chuck “The Iceman” Liddell announced his retirement from the sport at the age of 41. Fittingly, the end came in Las Vegas, where he had made his name as a fighting icon, a mohawked bearer of destruction who terrorized the 205-pound weight class for years. Thankfully, Liddell will still remain in the UFC as the organization’s Executive Vice President of Business Development, but for the moment, it’s time to reflect back on the fighting career of “The Iceman” with a host of his defining moments & what he meant to the sport he helped build into the juggernaut it is today. *** The first time I ran into Chuck Liddell, it was at the then-customary rules meeting before his can 2001 bout with Kevin Randleman. There were no camera crews following him, no flock of reporters jotting down his every word – he was just another fighter in a room full of them, competing in a sport that wasn’t even back on pay-per-view yet. My nephew, who was shooting pictures for me at the time, thought there was nothing cooler than the tattoo on the side of Liddell’s head – the kanji symbols for “place of peace & prosperity” – & not only did he photograph it, he went on to have a casual conversation with him about everything but fighting. That was more than nine years ago. The day after the rules meeting, Liddell knocked out former UFC heavyweight champ Kevin Randleman in 78 seconds, & it was the beginning of his transition from California cult hero to worldwide mixed martial arts superstar. Today, everyone knows who Chuck Liddell is; camera crews follow him around, flocks of reporters jot down his every word, but remarkably, he remains the same person he was in 2001. Sure, the bank account’s bigger, the clubs are nicer, & the trappings of fame more expensive – both literally & figuratively – but of anyone in professional sports today, Liddell has remained true to what got him here in the first place. “I’ve got a lot of friends that I’ve hung out with for 10-15 years that still hang out with me, & I don’t think they’d let me start acting like a jerk,” he told me in 2006. “They knew me when I was the guy going to college & working behind the bar. Plus I still live in the same small town, & things like that (celebrity) aren’t truly that great a deal around here. I think I’m a normal guy, & I try to be as normal as I can.” That’s rare in a day & age where image & spin is everything. Liddell went through his 12 year career with the same Mohawk, the same trainer (John Hackleman), the same friends, & the same attitude. Of course, on this side of the Octagon, years of covering Liddell had its challenges, but while hearing him simply state that he just loves to fight & loves knocking people out will never allow him to fill up notebooks like a Bernard Hopkins, that, frankly, was part of his appeal. Liddell has always boiled fighting down to its bare essence. For him, when he stepped into the Octagon, it was a fight – not a chess match, not a clashing of styles or comparison of techniques. He was going to hit you, you were going to try to hit him, & more often than not, you were going to fall down. It was a fight, plain & easy, & no one wanted to win that fight more than him. “From chess to checkers when I was a kid, I’ve always been competitive,” he said in 2003. “I hate to lose. I hate to lose at anything. I’ve gotten a lot better about mellowing out about fun games, but there was a time when I’d get pissed about everything. Whether it was shooting pool or anything, I just hated losing. I’ve kind of moved that focus & tried to keep it to my professional life.” That was bad news for the men he faced in the Octagon. After a 2003 that saw losses to Randy Couture & Quinton Jackson sandwich a win over Alistair Overeem, Liddell went on an over three year tear from 2004 to 2007 that not only established him as the game’s unquestioned superstar, but as the most terrifying light heavyweight in the game. Strangely enough though, as Liddell’s fame grew, the respect he received (& still receives) from his peers never waned. Liddell was a true fighter’s fighter, & that’s an accolade you can’t buy or receive from newspaper clippings or television appearances. “I think the reason people like me is because I’ll fight anybody, anywhere, I don’t talk bad about people that don’t deserve it, & I’m not a guy who’s out there trying to trash talk & make a name for myself,” said Liddell in 2006. “I earned the name that I have – I went out & fought for it.
See the article here:
Chuck Liddell – A Tribute to a Fighter