Tag: retirements

And Now He’s Retired/Angry: Cody McKenzie Blasts the UFC and Everything It Stands For in Farewell Interview


(Fightin’ Guy Fawkes McKenzie was the best McKenzie. / Photo via Getty)

We’re not going to burn another paragraph listing the ways that Cody McKenzie‘s career has gone poorly in the last year. In fact, McKenzie is exactly the kind of guy who Count Bisping was talking about when he dismissed the UFC class-action lawsuit as sour grapes from promotional washouts.

But consider this: The sheer fact that McKenzie made it to the UFC and then earned three victories inside the Octagon means that his MMA career was far more successful than the vast majority of fighters who try their hands at this sport. It’s weird to put it in those terms, but Cody McKenzie was an elite fighter, relatively speaking.

McKenzie officially announced his retirement from MMA yesterday with the following tweet…

Then, he sat down for a long, must-read interview with BleacherReport’s Hunter Homistek, in which he described what a miserable, impoverished existence it was to compete in the UFC as a non-star. His words echo those of numerous “low-level” fighters who often lost money trying to compete in the UFC and were treated like average regional-card shmucks forced to scramble for food and lodging. We’ve compiled all the best bits below…


(Fightin’ Guy Fawkes McKenzie was the best McKenzie. / Photo via Getty)

We’re not going to burn another paragraph listing the ways that Cody McKenzie‘s career has gone poorly in the last year. In fact, McKenzie is exactly the kind of guy who Count Bisping was talking about when he dismissed the UFC class-action lawsuit as sour grapes from promotional washouts.

But consider this: The sheer fact that McKenzie made it to the UFC and then earned three victories inside the Octagon means that his MMA career was far more successful than the vast majority of fighters who try their hands at this sport. It’s weird to put it in those terms, but Cody McKenzie was an elite fighter, relatively speaking.

McKenzie officially announced his retirement from MMA yesterday with the following tweet…

Then, he sat down for a long, must-read interview with BleacherReport’s Hunter Homistek, in which he described what a miserable, impoverished existence it was to compete in the UFC as a non-star. His words echo those of numerous “low-level” fighters who often lost money trying to compete in the UFC and were treated like average regional-card shmucks forced to scramble for food and lodging. We’ve compiled all the best bits below…

**********

“I’d compete if the money was there. I got into it not for the money, but at the same time, you hit a certain age and you have to grow up. I want a real house and property and all that, like everybody else. And you can’t have that in the fight world unless you’re a top-10 guy…

All the years I fought for them, I averaged $50,000 a year, and they never paid for medicals, they wouldn’t help out with bringing out cornermen and s–t.

They’d bring out one cornerman, but when you have a whole team that needs to go, at the end of the year, you pretty much made about $10,000 fighting for the UFC after paying for medicals and paying for everything and factoring in the expenses of training and all that s–t. You don’t make s–t, and it’s f—–g b——t. I’m over it…

When I fought in New Jersey, it cost me $4,000 in medicals just to get to the damn fight, and the UFC doesn’t pay for a penny of that. They don’t help out with any medicals, they don’t give a s–t. They’re just a big corporation selling merchandise…

The UFC is the pinnacle of the sport, and unless you’re kissing their ass and f—–g s—–g (UFC President) Dana’s (White’s) d–k, you’re not making any money. I see these chumps in the UFC with 4-5 records or 3-0 records, and I’m like, “Who the f–k are these people?”…

My first three fights with the UFC, they expected me to fight for free while locked in a s—y-ass house. The UFC is a joke to me. They’re a multibillion-dollar company, and you have to sign a three-year contract to get one fight with them? What? What kind of s–t is that?

I paid 40 percent of my purse in New Jersey to fight Leonard Garcia. I paid 40 percent of my purse before I even got to it. Forty percent. And that’s before paying for coaches, paying for everything else, you know?

So there’s just no money in the sport, and I’m to the point in life where I want to grow up, and this is some kid s–t it almost seems like unless you’re a top-tier guy, which I wasn’t born with that athletic ability…

Fighting is becoming a rich kids’ sport. That’s the bottom line. It’s becoming a rich kids’ sport. When I got into it, I could fight and not have to pay $4,000 in medicals. Now, just to do a fight in North America, I have to pay hella money in medicals. It’s a f—–g joke.

They try to watch every little thing we do, and the bottom line is that it’s for rich kids now. If you have the money to pay for all the supplements and all the s–t to make you bigger, faster, stronger, then you’re going to do good. But if you’re just a martial artist anymore, you’re done…

When I went into The Ultimate Fighter house, I was like $23,000 in debt. I remember in The Ultimate Fighter they had that coaches’ challenge where they were giving the two rich coaches $10,000 to hit some baseballs, and they were paying all the fighters $1,500.

And most of the fighters were stoked on it! They’re like, “Oh my god! We’re going to win $1,500!”I’m like, you guys are scrubs! I come from Alaska, where $1,500 doesn’t get you through a week. It’s all about where you’re from.

I’ve always made good money in Alaska and my career. I commercial fish, but I’m to the point where I gotta go get a job and start building a real life…

All these girls coming into the UFC and s–t with no records, and even the guys. I watched two 3-0 guys fight each other on TV the other day. I’m like, “Why the f–k am I watching two 3-0 guys fighting in the UFC? They’re f—–g 3-0. That’s not even a record.”

Or this CM Punk guy. It’s all politics, and I’m just sick of it. I know I can fight. I’ll beat CM Punk’s f—–g ass, but nobody cares because he’s famous and rich, and that’s what people want to see, this guy.

And I don’t have anything against him personally, but it’s just the politics of it…

Yeah, I heard that guy talking. He’s a f—–g joke. He’s like six months out and he’s like, “I’m really nervous.” I’m like, come on, you p—y. You’re nervous and you’re six months out? I don’t get nervous until they close that cage door. That’s when I get nervous. You better shake that nerves s–t off or you’re going to freeze in there, you big f—–g girl.

I don’t even know why that guy’s doing it. I kind of do, like a lot of guys try to do it, but he’ll do it once and quit. It’s not a fun thing, fighting people. People think it’s so great, but they’ve never done it. Those people have never f—–g done it. Fighting’s not fun, you know?

The training is fun. The martial arts, learning the martial arts is fun. But when it comes fight night, nobody has fun with the fight. No, it’s nerve-wracking as f–k. You’re getting your f—–g head punched in and your body kicked to s–t. It’s not fun.

But the UFC’s a joke to me, anymore. This WMMA (women’s MMA), I watched some girl fight the other day. She was 4-5, she had a losing record,  but she was ranked No. 13 in the world. I was like, “Oh my god, are you kidding me?” I won like 28 in a row, amateur and pro, before I even got a chance, then they made me fight for free in the TUF house, you know?

A bunch of dumb fans are like, “Those aren’t real fights.” Oh, they’re not? They felt like real fights…

Like I said, $50,000 a year is what I averaged [in the UFC], and that’s before expenses. After expenses, I’m averaging about $10,000 a year. That’s s–t money when you’re traveling, you’re on the road, you have to eat out.

I remember when they put me up at the MGM to fight Chad Mendes, I was broke as a joke. I had to jog six miles off the strip just to find a cheap place to eat. I couldn’t eat anywhere on the strip because I didn’t have any f—–g money, and I’m fighting the No. 2-ranked guy in the world. It’s a f—–g joke…

I remember I asked for a hotel room once because I brought my full team. That was the last time I ever brought a full team with me. They always wanted three people in my corner to look professional, you know?

So I finally brought a full team to one of my fights, and one of my cornermen was snoring and sleepwalking and s–t and keeping me up all night, so I asked the UFC for another room. It was like $500 for a room at this place we were staying. I couldn’t afford another room. But they wouldn’t get me another room.

They said, “No. Look, we can’t get you another hotel room.” I’m like, “I’m not getting any f—–g sleep.” It’s like, thanks a lot, d–k heads. You guys are a multibillion-dollar corporation, and you can’t afford another hotel room when you’re already renting the whole hotel out probably?

I got story after story like that. I always felt I was mistreated in the UFC. They take care of certain guys, and they take care of their guys who will kiss their ass and b–w them, but that’s not me. …I never respected Dana White, and I still don’t. I think he’s a greedy a—–e, and I’m glad they’re getting sued…

At this point, I don’t even care. I’m out of the UFC, and I’m not going to see a penny of it. At the end of the day, I’m sure if a bunch of lawyers sue the UFC, it’s going to be a lot of lawyers who get richer and not a bunch of fighters, you know?

Fighters never come up in my opinion. There will be one or two of them, maybe, and that inspires the rest of them, but at the end of the day, fighters don’t come up. And I hate to be a Debbie Downer, but that’s just how it is.

I haven’t seen many fighters get rich, and I’ve been in the game for a very long time. Most of them just struggle, and they all say the same thing, they all do it because they love it. They do it for the passion of the sport. It’s too bad to me when there is millions and billions of dollars floating around. It’s ridiculous how much money is flowing in, but it’s not going to the right people…

I know plenty of fighters who are way better than the guys in [the UFC], but they’re ugly, you know? The bottom line is the UFC is about beauty. If you look good and if you’re a pretty boy or a pretty girl, you’re going to make a lot more. It’s show business. It’s not the fight game. It’s show business…

I respect all the fighters tremendously, even the ones who suck, even the ones who are fighting on national television with s–t records. I still respect them more than the people running the shows who are ripping the fighters off, you know? The athletes, I respect every fighter, no matter what I say about fighters. I even respect this CM Punk who’s never had to go to the very top. I respect him for wanting to do it, for stepping up and fighting somebody. I think he’s a putz for going to the No. 1 organization without even doing any work to get there, but at the end of the day, I still respect him for wanting to try a fight.

I look back and I’ll always appreciate all the athletes who helped me out, like the Diaz brothers and people like that. They’d let me come stay at their houses and learn good martial arts. I was just some Opie from the country, and they’d let me stay with them and learn good s–t. I respect all those guys. At the end of the day, I had a lot of good times, but I’m done chasing this f—–g dream. I’m to the point where it’s not worth it to get knocked out for pennies.“

And Now He’s “Semi-Retired”: Martin Kampmann’s Indecisive Retirement Speech

Remember Martin Kampmann, Potato Chips (that’s what we call our fans now).

Seeing as he hasn’t fought in over a year, we kind of almost forgot he existed.

If you’re struggling to remember, Kampmann hasn’t fought since a 2013 TKO loss to Carlos Condit. Before that, he was knocked out by Johny Hendricks at UFC 154 in 2012.

Despite the inactivity and two-fight losing streak, Kampmann isn’t done (yet). He told MMA Fighting the following…

Remember Martin Kampmann, Potato Chips (that’s what we call our readers now).

Seeing as he hasn’t fought in over a year, we kind of almost forgot he existed.

If you’re struggling to remember, Kampmann hasn’t fought since a 2013 TKO loss to Carlos Condit. Before that, he was knocked out by Johny Hendricks at UFC 154 in 2012.

Despite the inactivity and two-fight losing streak, Kampmann isn’t done (yet). He told MMA Fighting the following (emphasis added):

I’m still signed with the UFC, but I’m on an indefinite hiatus. I’m semi-retired, you might say. I’m taking a break and focusing on coaching, stuff like that. I’m still signed with the UFC, I still have a contract with the UFC, but I just don’t have any fights lined up and I don’t plan on having any fights lined up in the future, either. I’m focusing on coaching right now. I still love fighting so I’ll never say never, but I can’t see myself fighting anytime in the future right now. I’ve had my share of concussions and it’s not always fun. I took some fights where I shouldn’t have taken them, but I pushed through it and that was a mistake in retrospect. Can’t change that now, but now I’m trying to watch out for my health better than I’ve done in the past.

Someone might want to let Kampmann know the bolded parts of his speech are pretty much the definition of retiring from MMA.

But for real, good for Kampmann. He’s prioritizing his health–which more fighters should do–and he’s got a great coaching gig over at Team Alpha Male. We wish him the best.

UFC: 5 Perfect Retirements for Guys Who Kept Fighting After They Happened

It’s hard to know when it’s time to quit sometimes. Most of us can likely remember a few instances when it would have been wise to let discretion get the better of valor. Still, you trudge on anyway because it’s all you know, and it sometimes takes hindsight to realize the right extraction point in […]

It’s hard to know when it’s time to quit sometimes. Most of us can likely remember a few instances when it would have been wise to let discretion get the better of valor. Still, you trudge on anyway because it’s all you know, and it sometimes takes hindsight to realize the right extraction point in […]

Related Posts:

And Now He’s Retired: Chris Leben Walks Away After 11 Years of Rough-Neckin’


(Leben celebrates his knockout of Wanderlei Silva at UFC 132 in July 2011. It would be his last victory pose in the UFC. / Photo via Getty)

The last time we saw Chris Leben, he was telling his cornermen “I’m done” after a round’s worth of abuse by Uriah Hall at UFC 168. As it turns out, he wasn’t just done for the night — he was done, period. The TKO loss was Leben’s fourth straight defeat in the UFC, and it finally convinced him that there might be more to life than getting kicked in the head for a living.

On yesterday’s installment of The MMA Hour, Leben officially announced his retirement:

“It’s been a fantastic, wonderful ride,” Leben said. “I’ve landed more strikes than anybody out there. Definitely highs and lows, ups and downs, but I think I’m starting to realize that, for me, it might be time to make that transition away from competing and get more on the coaching side of things.

“After [UFC 168], I wanted to go back and re-evaluate things, make sure that the decision wasn’t based purely on emotion. That it was really what I wanted to do. And now, yes, I can say, I’ve really retired from competing in MMA…

“I’m 33 years old now, which isn’t the oldest for a fighter. But like I tell people, it’s not how old you are, but it’s how long you’ve been doing it. And I’ve been doing this game for quite a while.

“I’ve got a lot of years ahead of me. I would like to still have my head on my shoulders and have a brain when I’m raising kids and doing all the other stuff that I want to be part of. I think it might just be time for me to gracefully bow out.”

Leben, who recently took a job as a coach at Victory MMA & Fitness in San Diego, discussed how his fight against Uriah Hall was a harsh reminder that he’d gone as far in the sport as his skills would allow him, and could no longer be competitive on toughness alone:


(Leben celebrates his knockout of Wanderlei Silva at UFC 132 in July 2011. It would be his last victory pose in the UFC. / Photo via Getty)

The last time we saw Chris Leben, he was telling his cornermen “I’m done” after a round’s worth of abuse by Uriah Hall at UFC 168. As it turns out, he wasn’t just done for the night — he was done, period. The TKO loss was Leben’s fourth straight defeat in the UFC, and it finally convinced him that there might be more to life than getting kicked in the head for a living.

On yesterday’s installment of The MMA Hour, Leben officially announced his retirement:

“It’s been a fantastic, wonderful ride,” Leben said. “I’ve landed more strikes than anybody out there. Definitely highs and lows, ups and downs, but I think I’m starting to realize that, for me, it might be time to make that transition away from competing and get more on the coaching side of things.

“After [UFC 168], I wanted to go back and re-evaluate things, make sure that the decision wasn’t based purely on emotion. That it was really what I wanted to do. And now, yes, I can say, I’ve really retired from competing in MMA…

“I’m 33 years old now, which isn’t the oldest for a fighter. But like I tell people, it’s not how old you are, but it’s how long you’ve been doing it. And I’ve been doing this game for quite a while.

“I’ve got a lot of years ahead of me. I would like to still have my head on my shoulders and have a brain when I’m raising kids and doing all the other stuff that I want to be part of. I think it might just be time for me to gracefully bow out.”

Leben, who recently took a job as a coach at Victory MMA & Fitness in San Diego, discussed how his fight against Uriah Hall was a harsh reminder that he’d gone as far in the sport as his skills would allow him, and could no longer be competitive on toughness alone:

“That first five minutes was just absolutely horrible,” he said. “It was more of the same, as far as what my last couple opponents have been doing, to where nobody really wants to — and I understand why — but they’re not going to stand in front of me, toe to toe, and just swing like guys used to try before. Now I’ve got a guy with six or nine inches of reach advantage that’s definitely a better athlete than I am, that’s running away from me as fast as he can and is only going to hit me with these little shots. It was one of those things where, personally, I knew the only thing that was going to happen was two more rounds of that, until he really got me upset and I was rushing in and he hit me with that crazy spinning kick that he does…

“I really can’t be upset. I’ve had a wonderful career. And again, I didn’t start fighting until I was 21 years old. Back then you could actually get in the UFC, win and do well, just on being a tough guy. I was a tough guy, I had some techniques, and that always worked for me. But when you look at these guys now, like Uriah Hall, they’re just a different breed of athlete than I am. The game has been evolving and changing so much, so rapidly, that I’m actually pretty happy that I can say I was in it for as long as I was in it.”

Chris Leben’s lasting popularity is a lesson in what MMA fans value. He was a brawler, known for his powerful left hand, his granite chin, and his colorful hair. As the first “crazy drunk guy” on The Ultimate Fighter, he was arguably MMA’s first reality-television star, and the blueprint for all the inferior crazy drunk guys on TUF who followed him. (Sorry, but Junie Browning and Julian Lane aren’t fit to hold the Cat Smasher’s jock.)

If you only look at Leben’s highlights, his career comes damn near close to legendary. He was the first WEC middleweight champion, a title he earned by knocking out Mike Swick in 2004. He won his first five official fights in the UFC, then launched Anderson Silva’s career by getting his ass kicked by the Spider in a middleweight title eliminator. Leben appeared on the first six UFC Fight Night cards, helping to build that sub-brand on Spike TV. He knocked out Terry Martin while basically unconscious. He submitted Yoshiro Akiyama in an epic match at UFC 116, just two weeks after knocking out Aaron Simpson. He KO’d his hero Wanderlei Silva in just 27 seconds.

But to say that Leben “had his demons” would be a profound understatement. He struggled with addiction, and managed to cross off almost every box on the MMA fuck-up checklist. DUIs? Yep. Steroids? Uh-huh. Unapproved painkillers? Indeed. Bizarre excuses related to candy consumption? Oh yeah. After every self-imposed setback, Leben would claim that he had finally matured and was now in the best physical and mental shape of his life, which would lead directly into the next fuck-up. It made him an incredibly frustrating fighter to be a fan of.

After Leben’s split-decision loss to Andrew Craig at UFC 162 last July, UFC president Dana White was unsure whether to keep him in the company or not. If Leben was just another mid-level 185′er, three straight losses would have almost guaranteed his release. But White felt a kind of paternalistic loyalty to Leben, along with some fear of what might happen to him if he lost his spot in the UFC:

“I want Leben to get up everyday and be part of society and have to do something, whether it’s training or training other people, no matter what is” [White] said. “Chris Leben has the type of personality that can go off the deep very easily in a lot of negative ways. I really care about the kid. I like him a lot. I love him. So I’ve got to figure this thing out.”

The UFC decided to give Leben one more match against Uriah Hall this past December, and the Crippler essentially quit mid-fight rather than absorb more brain trauma. As honorable and logical as that decision was, it’s something he never would have done five years ago. Clearly, Leben doesn’t want it anymore, which is the best reason to retire. And instead of forcing Dana White to publicly fire one of his most beloved employees, Leben is stepping away on his own terms.

With his UFC fame and reputation for hard-nosed performances, Chris Leben could have continued to draw crowds by sacrificing his body in smaller promotions; luckily, we don’t have to witness that. The era of getting by on toughness alone is over. Let’s remember it fondly.

Related: Chris Leben: The CagePotato Retrospective Interview

– Ben Goldstein

UFC: What Is the Cause of Premature Retirements and Hiatuses?

Another one bites the dust. Martin Kampmann, welterweight warrior and one of the goriest, gutsiest performers in the history of the sport, is “on hiatus” according to what he told MMA Junkie this week. The Dane seems likely to come back, something fans will no doubt rejoice over when it happens given his propensity for […]

Another one bites the dust. Martin Kampmann, welterweight warrior and one of the goriest, gutsiest performers in the history of the sport, is “on hiatus” according to what he told MMA Junkie this week. The Dane seems likely to come back, something fans will no doubt rejoice over when it happens given his propensity for […]

Related Posts:

And Now She’s Retired: Julie Kedzie Hangs Up Her Gloves Following Loss at UFC Fight Night 33


(Kedzie — being gawked at by Gina Carano and Gary Shaw — in the good ‘ol bad days of women’s MMA. / Photo via George Ruiz)

When Julie Kedzie dropped a split-decision to Bethe Correia at UFC Fight Night 33, it marked her fourth-consecutive loss in MMA, dropping her lifetime record to 16-13. But even before the scores were read, Kedzie had made up her mind that she had reached the end of the road. Directly following the fight, Kedzie went on twitter to announce her retirement from MMA, after nearly ten years in the sport:

Before walking out to my fight today, I had a long talk with my coach and we decided that this would be my last MMA fight. I would have loved to have gone out on a win, but c’est la vie-don’t leave it to the judges. Heartbreak is a huge part of this sport. I really truly want to thank all of you for being a part of my journey as a fighter. I will still be involved in MMA for the rest of my life..but now it’s time for me to accept that I can give more to the sport by stepping back and taking role in helping to develop other fighters. From the bottom of my heart, thank you to the @UFC, my team, and all of you who have made me achieve some amazing dreams.

Female bantamweight old-schoolers like Kedzie, Roxanne Modafferi, and Shayna Baszler have looked a step behind their more modern counterparts during their brief time featured in the UFC and on TUF, but it would be unfair to chalk it up to a lack of talent. What we’ve witnessed lately has been a generational changing-of-the-guard, in which the pioneers — who often start out one-dimensional, rounding out their games as they go along — are replaced by the young fighters who grew up with the sport.

Julie Kedzie began her career in 2004, when eight-person tournaments were still socially acceptable, before women’s MMA was readily available on television, and when there was virtually no incentive for a women to compete in MMA, other than the thrill of competition.


(Kedzie — being gawked at by Gina Carano and Gary Shaw — in the good ‘ol bad days of women’s MMA. / Photo via George Ruiz)

When Julie Kedzie dropped a split-decision to Bethe Correia at UFC Fight Night 33, it marked her fourth-consecutive loss in MMA, dropping her lifetime record to 16-13. But even before the scores were read, Kedzie had made up her mind that she had reached the end of the road. Directly following the fight, Kedzie went on twitter to announce her retirement from MMA, after nearly ten years in the sport:

Before walking out to my fight today, I had a long talk with my coach and we decided that this would be my last MMA fight. I would have loved to have gone out on a win, but c’est la vie-don’t leave it to the judges. Heartbreak is a huge part of this sport. I really truly want to thank all of you for being a part of my journey as a fighter. I will still be involved in MMA for the rest of my life..but now it’s time for me to accept that I can give more to the sport by stepping back and taking role in helping to develop other fighters. From the bottom of my heart, thank you to the @UFC, my team, and all of you who have made me achieve some amazing dreams.

Female bantamweight old-schoolers like Kedzie, Roxanne Modafferi, and Shayna Baszler have looked a step behind their more modern counterparts during their brief time featured in the UFC and on TUF, but it would be unfair to chalk it up to a lack of talent. What we’ve witnessed lately has been a generational changing-of-the-guard, in which the pioneers — who often start out one-dimensional, rounding out their games as they go along — are replaced by the young fighters who grew up with the sport.

Julie Kedzie began her career in 2004, when eight-person tournaments were still socially acceptable, before women’s MMA was readily available on television, and when there was virtually no incentive for a women to compete in MMA, other than the thrill of competition. After winning three fights in one night at the HOOKnSHOOT: 2005 Women’s Grand Prix — taking out Missy Karr, Jen Finney, and Molly Helsel — Kedzie became a regular in the fledgling WMMA circuit, tangling with other notable names like Baszler and Tara LaRosa.

Kedzie got her first big TV spot in February 2007, when she fought Gina Carano on the Showtime broadcast of EliteXC: Destiny, dropping a unanimous decision to Carano in an action-packed three rounder that marked the first women’s bout aired live on American television.

From there, Kedzie’s career endured the highs and lows of any regional fighter trying to make his or her way in the sport. She was part of Ultimate Women Challenge, which began as a promising TUF-clone for women, and quickly turned into a nightmarish fiasco. She also won the Jackson’s MMA Series women’s bantamweight title in April 2011, with a decision win against Kaitlin Young. It was the last time she’d taste victory.

Kedzie landed in Strikeforce, where she lost twice, first to Alexis Davis (by decision), then to Miesha Tate (by third-round armbar). Following the formal dissolution of Strikeforce at the beginning of this year, Kedzie was picked up by the UFC, and lost her Octagon debut to Germaine de Randamie by split-decision. Sometime after that, she decided that competing in MMA wasn’t in her blood anymore. By the time she fought Correia, she was already gone. (Thankfully, she left us with one more classic weigh-in moment.)

Since last year, Kedzie has worked as a broadcaster for the all-female promotion Invicta FC, and she’s also a contributing writer to Fightland, where she’s shared some incredible tales about her life in the sport. The point is, Julie has other things to occupy her, and she retired from the sport for the right reasons. Instead of slogging on for years in local shows, continuing to trade her physical health for small amounts of money, she recognized that being a pro MMA fighter wasn’t really working for her anymore. She doesn’t need it, so she left. Could have been worse.

Julie Kedzie helped build the foundation for American WMMA simply by being there when only a handful of women thought it was worth it, and for that she deserves all of our respect. CagePotato would like to wish Julie the best of luck with everything that comes after this. You can send her some love on twitter @julesk_fighter.


(Remember her well. Props: MMAFighting.com)