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The UFC is here to stay and Liddell is one of the major reasons. Whether he's here to stay remains to be seen, of course. "We'll see when I get home," Liddell repeated, during one of the many times asked about the next chapter in the story of the "Iceman." The latest chapter saw Jardine bloodied and mangled, his bald head marked with bumps and bruises, a gash to the side of his eye and his lip busted open. But he had won, he had survived three rounds of toe-to-toe exchanges with a fighter in Liddell who had reigned supreme for so long, putting foes to bed with lethal rights and lefts, seemingly invincible through it all. And in Jardine, Liddell faced an opponent, like him, coming off a knockout loss. "I knew that I belonged in this fight," Jardine said. He was right, obviously. Liddell landed his share of shots, but Jardine weathered the storm. Jardine dealt with months of people telling him he was simply being served up. He dealt with a night full of boos, as every camera shot of Jardine leading into the main event met with jeers compared to the overwhelming adulation poured upon Liddell. When the final bell sounded, though, Jardine won the crowd – a Southern California crowd that quickly turned against the once beloved Liddell.  In a sports world full of reasons why combatants lose rather than why opponents win, Chuck Liddell never made excuses. For years now, Liddell won the fans with his stand-up fighting style and charisma. But hardcore fans jeered him – much the same way diehard music fanatics turn against a group the mainstream embraces. And, as in most sports, the casual fan proves fickle. On this Saturday, it was appalling how the once revered Liddell was so quickly turned upon. Two days prior, the character known as the "Iceman" left the pre-fight press conference with an ear-to-ear smile, his Ipod blaring, jumping up and down in an elevator as it took him from the Honda Center to another bout with the press. But after the fight, he was soft-spoken, short, vague, ready to leave as if the Honda Center was now a crime scene. "I trained hard, got ready – just didn't perform and left it to the judges," Liddell said. "I just wasn't able to land enough shots I guess - that's all." After his loss to Jackson, everyone wanted excuses. Liddell wouldn't give them. He wouldn't after his last loss, either. "I kept seeing an opening, and I couldn't get to it," Liddell said. And maybe the 37-year-old's punches aren't as quick or crisp or devastating. That's what we are left to wonder, right along with whether or not Chuck Liddell will ever thrill a capacity crowd again. Like time and time before, Liddell's last fight was an event. Electricity buzzed through that arena unlike one I've ever felt before. At the center of it all was a celebrity who never changed. In a sports world full of reasons why combatants lose rather than why opponents win, he never made excuses. When some quipped that his game became too one-dimensional and suggested he change training camps, he remained loyal to all the friends that have been loyal to him for so long. He never shunned a fan, certainly not like they shunned him. If the UFC loses Liddell to retirement, it will no doubt lose its brightest star. But the sport has arrived, and it's not going anywhere –"Rampage" Jackson, Randy Couture, Tito Ortiz, Forrest Griffin, Georges St. Pierre and a slew of others will make sure of that. If the UFC loses the future Hall of Famer to retirement, it will lose "The Iceman" and the rock star image that went with him. But more than that, Chuck Liddell will be lost to the fans. Whether they realized it or not as they booed him in Anaheim and spoke of his demise in TV land, he helped make history. He led the charge in a sport that has taken America by storm. He did it with pulse-pounding excitement and a style unto himself. In a sports world so skewed that it demanded excuses for his loss to a fighter in Jackson unknown to the casual fan, he gave none. When every other athlete looked for a payday or an excuse to get out of autographs and smiling for pictures, Liddell never turned anybody down. With free agents coming and going in every other sport, Liddell stayed true to his friends, his trainers and the UFC. Whether anybody realized it or not, the guy criticized for his night life who whimsically painted his toenails and sported a trademark Mohawk was an example of what today's athlete should be. Grant Gordon is currently the Sports Editor for the Glendale News-Press, a subsidiary of the Los Angeles Times. You can contact him at
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