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By Marc Sinodinos
www.myspace.com/marcsino

The race against time is an un-winnable one. Everyday the sunsets, it brings the triumphs of a champions past glory that much closer to ancient history. Often the impact and relevance of ones past can cloud the judgment of their present. Much like any professional athlete, father time ticks in the minds of aging fighters, and creates a new battle between self doubt and self worth inside the octagon in their head.The unstoppable greatness of yesterdays wins struggle for survival against today’s truth.


Perhaps the sand has stopped trickling in the hour glass for Chuck “The Iceman” Liddell, but as the end of a glorious career inches closer, we become saddened by the imminent demise, and burned by the last flicker of the candles flame. It becomes hard to swallow the images of a once unstoppable force be reduced to anything less. Even the fastest car gets put in the garage one last time. If the time has come for the gloves to be hung one final time, we should not mourn, instead revel in the fact that we were along for the ride.


In a time when Ultimate Fighting was trying to emerge from the darkness, from the shadows of un-acceptance with the weight of the organization on his back, one man would light the way. Before Kimbo, Brock and mainstream acceptance, there was always one fighter to answer the call. Liddell’s “anyone, anywhere” attitude and exciting finishes quickly made him a front runner for fan favorite. When the UFC had few stallions in its developing stables, Liddell rose to stardom and became the first house hold name the company had ever produced. Armed with lethal hands and uncanny takedown defense, he ran through the competition on feet that only seemed to know one direction; forward.


Never one to implement the greatest game plan, Liddell stayed true to his knock em’ out style, and stalked his competition with his granite chin in the air, dying to be tested. He would absorb tremendous punishment just for the chance to load up his dynamite filled right hand. There was nothing like a Chuck Liddell main event. He was as advertise, when he fought, someone was going to sleep and everyone knew it wasn’t going to be him.


Before the bars were packed on pay per view nights with hundreds of people chanting “GSP! GSP!” There were about six die hard fans watching a television with no sound, as the juke box took priority over the fights at that time. Anxiously we watched the turtle bellied Mohawked mad man looping lefts with bad intentions. Pressing forward until he was raining down the final blows on his freshly fallen foe, then back peddling around the octagon in celebration like a jet burning off its last bit of fuel.


In his prime, Liddell’s right hand was the perfect answer for the strongest wrestler, or the most talented ju-jitsu practitioner. His crisp right hand firing from his hips nullified all challengers as he sprawled and brawled his way to victory during 5 consecutive championship fights. When he was winning, the UFC could take deep breathes knowing that no matter what was happening in Japan, they had the greatest talent. The Iceman lived true to his name and was a cold hearted killer inside the octagon. His marketable Mohawk, and his twelve pack six pack, made him the everyman’s champion.


Liddell built an entire career fighting the toughest challengers, and never side stepped anyone. He would rather loose to a legend then demolish a dud. Even in the twilight of his career, instead of racking up easy wins, he would clash with titans again and again, solidifying his place among the greats.


The decline of any fighter is more inevitability then tragedy. It is sadly ironic that Liddell’s once unflappable chin would become his ultimate demise. As the days grow shorter the once razor sharp skills begin to dull, the speed saps, remnants of past battles show there wear and tare. Fighters who don’t recognize these signs and adapt to a suitable fitting style, become predictable and vulnerable. Some fighters have the ability to re-invent themselves and prolong their career a little bit longer, and others call it quits or stick to what they know best. It is hard to teach and old dog knew tricks, but it is even harder to put them to sleep.


No matter how badly beat or criticized, Liddell never once took an easy fight to squeak his way back into contention. He would fight only top level fighters instead of beating weak competition to create false relevance.  


As Liddell would probably agree, the last couple of years in the octagon have not been the best. The once confidant fans who watched Liddell storm through his adversaries, now watch tensely hoping a glimmer of the past will touch the chin of whoever he is fighting. The people who once wished his opponents luck, now watch praying the big right hand will find its mark one more time.


All stories no matter how epic or timeless, always come to an end. In a fighter’s case, you hope the end comes on their own terms and not from being forced into retirement. If the UFC decides the time has come to close the curtains on Liddell’s glorious career, it will be the end of an era many thought should have started much earlier. I don’t know what its like to walk away from something that I have invested as much time as Liddell has put into fighting. Often fighters hang on too long and risk serious injury or possibly tarnishing their own legacy. Some fighters rally and put together one last run.


Sometimes underdogs get to bark in the spotlight one last time. Once in awhile old fighters find the path to success and against all odds they raise the championship one last time. But for every legend that is born, for every one person who hits the snooze button on father time, there are thousands more throwing in the towel. There is a reason why we call someone a legend. Champions are built not born, their heart and skill become their DNA, and from the sacrifice and sweat comes the opportunities to seize the moments that make them great. If this is the end for the Iceman, and we in fact never see his arms raised again, we should always see his head held high.  
        

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