Nobody makes a clean break.
If any knowledge can be gained from Tuesday’s announcement that 38-year-old Fedor Emelianenko is plotting a return to the cage, perhaps that’s it. It doesn’t seem to matter who you are or where you’re from, once MMA gets its hooks in you, it’s awfully hard to get free.
This is even true, it appears, for Emelianenko—the man who marched through a 12-year, 39-fight career during the sport’s golden age without ever showing us much more than a stoic gaze and a murderous right hand. It’s true for the guy who was already regarded as the greatest heavyweight of all time. It’s true for the guy who never gave any indication that he wanted anything other than to live simply in his obscure Russian hometown, surrounded by his family, friends and his religion.
If that guy can’t walk away? Man, it must be damn near impossible.
One of the most frustrating things about Emelianenko’s potential comeback is that we’ll probably never know exactly why he wants to do it. Even if he graces us with his presence on some future conference call or media showcase, we won’t get the truth. Once our questions are translated from English to Russian and run the gauntlet of the man’s unknowable brain, the sparse words we get back—from Russian to English—won’t shed any light. We’ll be lucky if they even make sense.
In the decade-long game of telephone we’ve played trying and failing to understand Emelianenko, this latest situation won’t be any different. We won’t know why he’s returning because we’ve never really known him at all. After all this time, he remains the MMA’s most enigmatic legend.
We last checked in with the former Pride FC champion and consensus pick as heavyweight GOAT in February, when Bellator MMA flew him to a small town in Connecticut to spend a couple hours signing autographs at a Dave & Busters restaurant.
He was as inscrutable as ever, but our best guess was that he seemed happy. He even laughed at one point. And why wouldn’t he be pleased? He was getting paid to do almost nothing and enjoyed god-like status in a subculture of people who had zero idea what was actually going on in his head.
Yet maybe there were warning signs. When I spoke with Emelianenko leading up to his Dave & Busters appearance, he told me he was still actively involved with MMA in Russia.
“Even though I’m retired, I train every day,” he said. “I try to stay in shape to keep my stamina up. I’m still in the sport, but from a slightly different angle.”
Pictures of him palling around with Bellator CEO Scott Coker during a New Year’s Eve fight card in Japan had already surfaced. Though at the time Coker flatly quashed the possibility of Emelianenko coming out of retirement, the two obviously remained on good terms in the wake of the fighter’s disastrous run in Strikeforce from 2009-11.
Later, reports surfaced that former Pride boss Nobuyuki Sakakibara planned to re-enter the MMA scene and that he might coax Fedor into another NYE appearance overseas. Then, just as the rumor mill was getting duly stoked on Tuesday, Emelianeko’s official Twitter account confirmed his comeback.
Naturally, it did it via hashtag:
We will probably never know what prompted this change of heart, though one thing is clear: Emelianeko certainly has nothing left to prove.
Short the miraculous fairy tale of him finally signing a UFC contract, avenging his 2010 loss to Fabricio Werdum and taking the sport’s top prize at nearly 40 years old, it would be impossible to improve on his legacy.
Plus, a run in the Octagon remains just a pipe dream—and potentially the most dangerous move Emelianenko could make at this stage of his life. It’s far more likely—perhaps even a given—that if he fights in America at all, it’ll be for Bellator, where he already has friends and a previous business relationship.
Social media reaction to his announcement quickly proved he still has a hold on our hearts and our minds, but a day later the dominant question seems to be: Why, Fedor? Why?
Maybe he can’t stomach a life without the thrill of competition.
Maybe he needs the money.
Maybe he was spurred by Bellator’s recent popularization of throwback MMA, where guys like Ken Shamrock, Kimbo Slice and Tito Ortiz are once again big draws despite their advancing ages and declining skills.
In any case, we’re left to assume that not even Fedor can resist the siren song of this sport and to admit his return merely amounts to another mysterious move from a guy whose motives have been impenetrable all along.
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