Anytime the career of a notable fighter comes to an end, distance is required in order to appreciate his full body of work.
Sometimes, it is an epic saga, vast and shockingly dense, as is the case for men such as Jeremy Horn or Dan Severn. Other times,…
Anytime the career of a notable fighter comes to an end, distance is required in order to appreciate his full body of work.
Sometimes, it is an epic saga, vast and shockingly dense, as is the case for men such as Jeremy Horn or Dan Severn. Other times, it is somewhat sparse, as in the case of “The Prodigy” BJ Penn.
It has been more than six months since Penn called an end to his career as an MMA fighter. His final bout was an odd conclusion to a storied career that saw such promise go in all different directions.
To think that it all started as a kind of lark—a bout agreed to in order to please Ralph Gracie that pitted Penn against a kickboxer for the meager sum of $400.
On one hand, Penn didn’t fight as often as he could or have the success that a man of his talent and skill should have had. On the other hand, he managed to accomplish rare feats; he is one of only three fighters to win titles in two different weight classes, and his bravery and daring entertained the fans while handcuffing his legacy.
Yes, Penn is a rare man, the likes of which the sport may not see again for some time to come.
To think that a novice fighter, known only for his brilliant jiu-jitsu, could debut in the UFC for his first true fight and then get thrown against top-five competition for his weight class is shocking, even by today’s standards.
To think he would win with unimaginable ease against the elite of the lightweight division, earning a title shot in just his fourth UFC fight, is nearly mind blowing.
But that is what Penn was: a mind blowing fighter who, in the beginning, made it look so easy that one began to wonder just what kind of sport could let a relative novice make it to the top and threaten for the title in less than a year.
By the time he stepped into the ring with the reigning champion Jens Pulver, Penn had logged no more than seven minutes and 50 seconds in the Octagon. What was more shocking was that each time he stepped into the cage, he got better; it took him nearly all of Round 1 to finish Joey Gilbert, but he only took half that time to finish Din Thomas, who was ranked No. 3 or 2 in the division.
Then, he stepped in against arguably the No. 1 contender in Caol Uno and stopped him in just 11 seconds.
No fighter in the history of the UFC has accomplished so much, so fast, against elite competition as Penn did. Fighters like Jon Jones and Conor McGregor got their title shots fairly quickly but not as fast or as violently and decisively as Penn.
Such a beginning is in harsh contrast to his final fight against Frankie Edgar, where he was basically standing like a dancer, a position that seemed to diminish any punching power while making him ripe for takedowns. That version of Penn seemed to possess none of the former authority or confidence of his younger self, and the result seemed academic from the get-go.
So, now that Penn has stepped off the stage, how do we remember him? Do we criticize his career or lavish too much praise?
This is the career retrospective of Penn, a fighter who has done what few ever did while achieving less than was expected.
All quotes are taken from the book Why I Fight: The Belt is Just an Accessory by BJ Penn, unless noted otherwise.
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