Fedor Emelianenko (31-3-1), Anderson Silva (28-4), Georges St. Pierre (21-2), BJ Penn (16-7-2), Phil Baroni (13-13). All these men have one thing in common, they fight. Whether it be Sambo, Muay Thai, Wrestling, Brazilian Jiu Jitsu or Boxing, all these men fight and putting their styles aside, ignoring who they are as people, what we have left is The Fighter's Record...
One number represents the greatest feeling in the world, victory. One little number. All it takes is one or two digits to bring glory to a man's (or woman's) life, put money in their pocket and define their legacy. One little number to catapult them from being just another fighter to the best ever. That number, trapped in brackets defines everything a fighter succeeded in. It shows no growth, no learning and no technique. It only shows success, the feeling that drives these men to do what they do.
However, for most, there is a second number. Poorly hidden behind a hyphen that is the source of pain, regret and sorrow in the life of every combat sports athlete. This number is a representation of failure, a haunting feeling of imperfection and inadequacy. It's a number that nobody wants, a number that can never go away, a number that haunts you forever. This seemingly meaningless digit can steal a legacy away from a fighter, it can put their career in question, or their ability to make a living on the line. This number makes the best of us grow and the worst of us give up.
(31-1-1) was the record of Fedor Emelianenko, the greatest fighter to have ever walked the Earth. After defeating Brett Rogers in November of 2009, Fedor Emelianenko's legacy was thriving, he was hailed as the pound-for-pound king and the #1 heavyweight in the world. Fedor's record spoke to his fans. His record said "I'm dominant, I can not be defeated, I am the best in the world."
(31-3-1) is the record of Fedor Emelianenko, a has been who never really was. An overrated relic, begging to be relevant but tired and aging. A legacy that was only to be hung out to dry on a rainy day. A legacy tarnished by defeat. Losing two straight fights, but so much more in the process. The inability to hear your name claimed as the victor, and not feeling the referee lift your hand in pride and glory. This is the record of a broken fighter, of someone who doesn't know how to win.
In seconds, these numbers can change the course of history. They can change the MMA landscape in miraculous ways, for better or worse. They can change a fighter's lifestyle, their brand and their pay-grade. It's all as easy as 1,2,3.
For fighter's like Phil Baroni, there is no Plan B. "I can't sing or dance" the New York Badass always says, so don't expect to see the man once claiming to be "da best eva" step out of the Octagon anytime soon. Whether against the sport's stars or sub-pars, Baroni will keep going; and his numbers will keep getting bigger. Which side of the column gets bigger, is up to him.
Winning can come in a number of ways, whether it's knocking your opponent unconscious with one perfectly landed strike, dominating your opponent en route to a judge's decision or the sweet sensation of making the lesser man submit. Any fighter can finish the fight any way. It all depends on how hard they train and how they apply their skills in the fight. No matter what the manner, winning feels good.
Losing can come in a number of ways, whether it's feeling your opponents fist against your chin before waking up with a flashlight in your face, being dominated by your opponent for 15 straight minutes or being made to tap out to a man that is better or more equipped to do battle on the ground than you. Any fighter can lose any way, it all depends on how hard they train and how inneffectively they apply their skills. No matter what, losing feels like the pains will never end, like you'll never get to sleep again, like all you love has slipped from your grasp.
There is nothing that can compare to the highs and lows a fighter feels when they taste victory or when they smell the stench of defeat. It is the most meaningful sensation in the world to these people. Being both positive and negative reinforcement. Earning you that extra bit of cash can be the difference between paying the rent or checking into a shelter. For some, that feeling is all they need. For others, it's all they want. Regardless, to the rest of us, they are just numbers, meaningless little numbers.
