The Axe Murderer: A Sherdog Retrospective

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JORDAN BREEN: Silva is MMA. For better or for worse, whether as the sublime face-stomping icon or disgraced, faded cheat, he is a perfectly complicated symbol of the sport.

He bridged the gap between the vale tudo era and modern MMA, while still fostering the bloodlust of Brazilian style-versus-style, no-rules fights. He fought for a UFC championship, won a Pride title and grand prix and became one of the biggest stars in what has historically been MMA’s superstar division. While “The Axe Murderer” put his fair share of cans into the crusher, his reign of terror was very, very real.

Every so often, you might forget, and then he would break Sakuraba’s collarbone or nose, or tap dance on Henderson, or smash Jackson’s face before casting his corpse into the ring ropes like wind-strewn laundry, blood squirting from “Rampage’s” head, painting the canvas with a grisly signature. He has a tribal tattoo on the back of his skull; he named his son Thor; and he single-handedly legitimized one of the most obnoxious pieces of electronic music ever: “Sandstorm.” Yet for all of this unforgettable splendor, it is difficult to imagine that, even when the shock of today retreats, Silva’s ignominious exit from the sport will not taint him. Silva, like other Pride mainstays, was always a target of skepticism when it came to performance-enhancing drugs and the like, given the promotion’s ambivalence -- if not outright preference -- towards them.

A decade later, faced with the uncomfortable ramifications of urinating in a cup, one of the heroes in MMA history chose a coward’s death, a candidate for MMA sainthood instantaneously reduced to uploading unintelligible YouTube manifestos. Silva famously said, “I promise violence.” He always delivered, but he saved some of the wickedest violence for last and made himself his own final victim.

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TODD MARTIN: I found myself feeling quite nervous heading into the UFC 79 bout between Silva and Chuck Liddell. It wasn’t because I had a vested interest in seeing one man win a fight that was being framed as the ultimate UFC-versus-Pride showdown. Rather, it was because I was concerned that a bad performance from Silva might leave the large UFC fan base wondering what the big deal was about this guy in the first place.

Silva’s wars with Jackson, Sakuraba, Henderson and the like in Pride were the stuff of legend, but he was coming off back-to-back clean knockouts and was fighting a man with an iron chin and heavy punches. Win or lose, I just hoped “The Axe Murderer” wouldn’t find himself forgotten by history. History is written by the winners, and it was unclear at the time whether Pride’s top fighters would be celebrated by the UFC fan base if they didn’t perform well in the Octagon.

Those fears proved to be unfounded. Silva and Liddell had one of MMA’s all-time great battles, with both men showcasing the fearsome fighting styles that made them legends. Silva was clearly past his prime in the UFC and did not give the best performance of his career. Yet, even as a foreign fighter, he was warmly embraced as one of the most popular competitors to American fans. It’s a testament to the excitement and entertainment that Silva brought to MMA that even in a different landscape with different fans and diminished fighting ability, he still connected. Silva’s legacy wasn’t going anywhere.

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MIKE FRIDLEY: As a fan since 1994 and a journalist since 1998, I have to admit that it’s a shame to watch as such a spectacular career burns up in flames.

Silva ran from a drug test and admitted to having a banned substance in his body. Unfortunately for hardcore and casual mixed martial arts fans alike, The Axe Murderer’s actions cast a shadow of doubt on each and every in-ring accomplishment that is undeniable forever more. I, for one, now doubt the legitimacy of his run in Pride Fighting Championships. If he’s taking banned substances in 2014 under the watchful eye of athletic commissions in the United States, who’s to say he wasn’t gaining an unfair advantage as overseas promoters turned a blind eye to proper drug testing?

Frankly, Silva’s situation is similar to the predicaments faced by Mark McGwire, Alex Rodriguez, Rafael Palmeiro, Marion Jones, Lance Armstrong and so on. Once an athlete is known to have something to hide in their body, everything they have done in competition is questionable in the eyes of the educated public.

Addressing the Nevada Athletic Commission on June 16, Silva’s attorney Ross Goodman disclosed that his client skipped out on the test because “he was concerned the diuretics would show up on his sample.” Banned by the World Anti-Doping Agency because of concerns over their ability to unfairly shed water weight, diuretics are also commonly used as a masking agent for performance-enhancing drugs. Either way, Silva was breaking the rules and his legacy will forever be marked by the transgression. Silva’s trio of wins against Japanese legend Sakuraba? Tainted. His Pride grand prix run in 2003? Spoiled. I cannot prove he cheated and will not try to convince you of such, but I do know that he admitted to cheating in 2014. Thus, in my opinion, everything he did prior needs to be taken with a grain of salt.

Shame on you, Mr. Silva.

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JEFF SHERWOOD: I met Silva back when he was in Pride, and the one thing I’ll always remember about him was how intimidating he was in person. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve met many “killers” who could smash me in a matter of seconds, but there was something special about Silva. His intensity was amazing at all times.

We didn’t talk much at the first few Pride events I attended, partly because I was intimidated by him and partly because there was a language barrier between us.

On the lobby floor of the hotel where the elevators let people out was an area where the whole Chute Boxe team would sit. I remember getting off the elevator, with the whole Chute Boxe team sitting there watching. They just looked at everyone getting off the elevators as they walked by. Seeing Silva there looking at you with a blank stare was a bit scary. It was especially intimidating when he saw me with Jackson during a time in which one of the biggest rivalries in MMA was brewing.

Back in Pride, a few unique things took place. Everyone went to the arena together on buses and ate breakfast together all week; talk about some intense moments. There were a few buses that would leave the hotel to get everyone to the arena. You would just pick a bus and jump on it to get to the arena -- everyone from media to fighters’ camps and sometimes the families of the fighters, as well.

I will always remember Silva sitting on the bus with this look on his face, like an “Axe Murderer,” of course. However, a funny thing happened on the way to Pride 17. He was fighting Sakuraba, and he got on the bus with the biggest smile on his face. I remember having a conversation with former Sherdog editor Josh Gross and thinking, “What’s going on?” He was joking with his teammates, laughing and taking pictures. This was not the norm, for sure. It was almost like he knew he was going to win that fight and so confident that he was at peace.

In the end, when he realized I was “Sherdog,” he loved me. I would hit the lobby and get out of the elevator, and he had the biggest smile on his face possible. He would come up and call me “The Sherdoggy” and give me a crushing hug, telling me how much Brazil and Chute Boxe loved “Sherdog” ... as long as I wasn’t walking with “Rampage.” If I was, I would get that stare from those eyes. This was way before they ever fought. I knew it was going to be a great rivalry.

If seeing Silva in his corner rolling his wrists with that blank stare at his opponent did not get you excited, then check your pulse. He supplied us with so many highlights of violence and aggression. The sport would never have been the same without “The Axe Murderer,” plain and simple.

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