If you were there, the last image of Georges St-Pierre’s awkward exit from the UFC probably remains etched in your mind. Sitting painfully on a stage in a MGM Grand Garden Arena conference room, his face looking like someone had just run a cheese grater across it, every shade of red, accentuated by blue bruising and bloodshot eyes.
His tie knot hanging below his collar, his lip leaking blood, his boss irrationally fuming aside him, he had somehow walked out the winner, snuck out with the belt that had seemed to be his personal possession before he faced the prying, powerful hands of Johny Hendricks.
The world thought Hendricks had won; the judges disagreed. In the end, it allowed him to walk out in the dignified way his exemplary career demanded: if not gracefully, at least on top.
At first, we thought it might be temporary. At the time, he said he could not definitively call it a retirement, but as the weeks went on, we began to wonder. As the months went on, we began to worry. Now, it’s been almost two years, and most of us were sure: GSP was never coming back.
And suddenly, a glimmer. Earlier this week, St-Pierre told Canadian news outlet RDS that he’s entertaining thoughts of a return to the UFC Octagon.
“I’m starting to get the taste, more and more, to come back,” St-Pierre said. “I watch the fights and see what’s going on in my division, and I keep myself in shape. It’s like a knife that I have to keep sharp if I ever decide to jump back in the mix. I’m pretty sure it won’t be in 2015, but I don’t know yet.”
Color me conflicted. On one hand, it is always interesting to see how legends walk back through the door. On the other, it is concerning to see him risk the dream of leaving the sport on top after leaving on his own terms.
It was hard enough the first time around. It was uncomfortable hearing him talk about his inability to remember parts of his fights, confessing to blurry vision, admitting that he got so obsessive about competing that his mind would get dark, that he feared damaging his brain. The champ, always guarded in his comments, was bluntly telling us his world was closing in on him. So it makes me uneasy to hear he might want to come back for more of the same.
Is his urge understandable? Of course it is. Competitively, it must be nearly impossible to extinguish or even control the fire that led to such all-consuming drive. Athletically, St-Pierre might well have something left. Despite nearly two years away, he is only 34, and after a series of injuries during his final years in active competition, his body might have finally had a chance to heal.
As it was, even with his body compromised, he left on the heels of a 12-fight win streak, a stretch that saw him defeat studs like Carlos Condit, B.J. Penn, Nick Diaz and Matt Hughes, among others. At one point, he won 33 consecutive rounds, a stretch believed to be a record in major mixed martial arts.
But when that streak ended (during a unanimous-decision win over Jake Shields), so, too, did his air of invulnerability. In his next bout, he was nearly knocked out by a head kick from Condit. Then he mostly controlled Diaz on the ground, but after that, Hendricks battered him greater than anyone not named Matt Serra, landing 142 strikes in their five-round bout, including 85 significant strikes.
In the first eight fights of his streak, he was hit 367 times; over his last four bouts, he was hit 508 times, making it clear something had caught up with him, whether his opponents or his injuries or the evolution of the fight game. Whatever it was, the gap separating him from the pack had clearly narrowed.
And yet, it’s natural to let the mind reflect on the timing of his musing. St-Pierre was one of the first fighters to really push for regular drug testing in an attempt to clean up the sport. The UFC recently began its drug testing partnership with the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency, and St-Pierre says he has noticed some differences.
“There are things that don’t surprise me,” he said. “There are guys whose physiques changed. They no longer look the same fighters they were before. I think it scares many people.”
If he is watching intently, and seeing these changes, perhaps he believes he would be returning to a level playing field. And perhaps that would be too tempting a scenario to bypass.
Perhaps he only looked as far as current champ Robbie Lawler, saw how possible it is to have a late-career renaissance, figured he could do the same. Perhaps he decided he gave his longtime teammate Rory MacDonald a chance to win the belt, and now he has no qualms about reclaiming it. Perhaps he wants to pad his nest egg. Perhaps he just misses that sense of nervous energy before you walk to the cage, the one that lets you know you’re doing something meaningful, that you’re able to conquer fear to chase dreams.
Perhaps it’s something else completely. Whatever it may be, it’s a personal decision. It’s his body, his mind, his legacy. And maybe as he sees it, it’s his belt, too. He deserves to call his own shots, even if it makes any of us uncomfortable. Will I watch a GSP comeback? Yes, of course I will. MMA is a sport that often fills us with conflict, and this is just another example. Unlike other sports, we don’t play in metaphors. The hurt is real and often obvious.
When a champion explains his vulnerabilities as GSP did that final night, it can only increase the intensity of our impressions to follow. Even if our perceptions of him as a fighter did not change, our perceptions of his humanity did. That’s why that image of him on the UFC 167 post-fight conference stage, the champion bloodied and bruised, is so powerful. That’s why I want it to be the final one.
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