Swan song?
This is not Cro Cop's swan song.
And don't you dare tell Mirko "Cro Cop" Filipovic his heavyweight fight against Roy "Big Country" Nelson in UFC 137 this weekend in Las Vegas will be the end. Don't even imply it.
No matter that UFC president Dana White, after Cro Cop's knockout loss to Brendan Schaub in UFC 128 earlier this year — his second defeat in a row, plummeting him in the heavyweight rankings — said Cro Cop was going to retire.
No matter that, after a loss to Junior Dos Santos a couple years ago, Cro Cop told reporters, "I don't feel the hunger anymore."
No matter that Cro Cop is 37, ancient in UFC years, and with two young boys and a wife back home in Croatia.
Because for Cro Cop, there's a special feeling in this sport that can't be replicated anywhere else in life. It's the moment when, at the end of a hard-fought fight, the referee grabs your hand and thrusts it in the air and the crowd goes wild. That feeling, that validation after months of training, is what makes retirement a very dirty word in the Cro Cop household.
"It's not about the paycheck — it's about the way of life that you know," Cro Cop told FOXSports.com last week as he prepared for his Saturday night fight. "When I decide to stop fighting, like every fighter, like every man, you have to decide to stop at some point. And people spend too many years in prison, they don't know how to act when they're released. It's the same with professional sports. I don't know how I will act. I don't mean I'll be wild and crazy ... (but) I'm scared of that moment."
Odd feeling, thinking of Cro Cop being scared of anything. The guy is one of the best feel-good stories in the UFC: Grew up in a small Croatian village. Loved watching Jean Claude Van Damme movies. Father died when he was a teenager, leaving the family with nothing. Moved to the capital of Zagreb. Trained alone in his garage with no formal coaching. Started fighting to earn money and take his mother and sister out of poverty. Joined the elite Croatian Lucko Anti-Terrorist Unit. Served four years in the Croatian Parliament.
And then, after a dazzling career in the Japanese "Pride" MMA circuit, came over to the United States in 2007 to fight in the blossoming UFC.
He's become a cult favorite of sorts in the UFC, with a build and demeanor reminiscent of Ivan Drago from "Rocky IV" and a devastating set of kicking skills, especially a left head kick that comes with his straight-out-of-a-Van-Damme-movie tagline: "Right leg, hospital; left leg, cemetery."
Yet every career must come to an end. In the world of professional athletes, examples abound of people who hold on just a bit too long, whose careers peter out instead of ending on a bang. Rare is the athlete who wins a Super Bowl in his final game like John Elway, or walks away at the top of his game like Barry Sanders.
Cro Cop insists his career isn't petering out. He thinks he'll have two, three, even four more years of fighting in the Octagon, even though his current UFC contract ends after this fight. He still loves the intensity of training camps — two hours in the morning, a nap, then two and a half hours in the evening — and his body still recovers quickly. He can catch his breath a minute after an intense set of reps, and he can fully recover a few hours after an intense workout.
And he points to plenty of other fighters for inspiration: Randy Couture was 47 at the time of his final fight earlier this year. Boxer Evander Holyfield will be 49 when he steps in the ring for another fight in December.
"Too old for the sport?" Cro Cop asked. "It depends on person to person. Technically speaking, you are too old when you can't recover yourself ... My losses had nothing to do with my stamina. My stamina is much better than my opponent, even though he is younger."
But every good thing must come to an end. It's a difficult truth for Cro Cop, and so many other elite athletes like him, to reconcile: What will the next chapter be after his fighting career is done? It may not be after UFC 137, or after his next fight, but rest assured the end will come, and it will come sooner than Cro Cop would like.
He doesn't know what will be next. He doesn't try to think too far in the future. He knows he won't run for office again, and he won't become a police officer again. Cro Cop will relish the time away from training when he can raise his two boys, ages 8 and 10 months, to be good and decent men. He'll steer them away from going into mixed martial arts — maybe soccer or dance instead — because he knows how bloody this sport can be. He won't miss the time in the spotlight. Fame was never his motivation.
And if this is his last UFC fight, he wants to go out with a win, so he's guaranteeing a victory against Nelson, believing his stamina and kicking power will overwhelm Big Country's raw power and big belly.
Yet, in Cro Cop's voice, as he contemplates the end, there's a streak of sadness that's surprising, especially because it's coming from one of the toughest men around.
"It's my life," he said of his fighting career. "That's what I choose. Martial arts, that's what's given me all I have."
