What was always so impressive about GSP was that he could beat a fighter anywhere, and his fight IQ was off the charts. To paraphrase the inimitable Mike Goldberg, "His precision was really precise." Some complain that he wasn’t a finisher, but when you look at his level of competition, how could anyone be upset at that? If stoppages are so important and fighters that go the distance truly lamented, why is Shannon Ritch not held in higher regard? Across 145 officially recorded fights, that man has never gone the distance… ever. GSP fought the best in the division and came out on top almost every time, whether he stopped them or whether he beat them decisively. The only two men to beat him, Matt Hughes and Matt Serra? He went on to get his revenge by finishing them three times!
Over on the forum, a poll went up last weekend asking fans who is the current GOAT, or "Greatest of All Time." As of the writing of this piece, GSP is ahead by almost 70 votes. He has scored over 38% of the vote, compared to Fedor Emelianenko at just under 30% and Jon Jones sitting at about 18%. GSP could very well be the MMA equivalent of a Condorcet winner, which in layman's terms means that if you asked MMA fans who the greatest of all time was between GSP and another fighter, GSP would come out the winner every time.
Sure, he may not have finished all of his opponents throughout his career. What he did do, though, was win. It’s hard to be mad at that, and even those that might not have enjoyed his style should at the very least appreciate what he did in the cage. It’s not likely we're going to run into a fighter like GSP in the future, and that’s OK. We should be happy with the one that graced the Octagon with his presence 22 times. And hey, he’s only 37, so we can all imagine a scenario where a champ like Tyron Woodley rattles off a few more impressive wins and sets up a fight to give us the true welterweight greatest of all time.
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Keith Shillan: The word “legend” gets thrown around the world of MMA way too much. The overuse of the word has watered down its meaning to the point where any fairly successful retired fighter gets christened a legend. Well, when speaking of Georges St. Pierre, it is being used correctly.
St. Pierre's fighting speaks for itself. He is one of only six fighters to win a UFC belt in two different weight classes. He has the most wins in UFC title matches, defended the welterweight title an astounding nine times and finished his career on a 13-fight winning streak.
I am not going to argue if he is the greatest fighter in MMA history or not, though he is clearly on the short list of candidates. However, he might be the greatest "martial artist" in MMA history. He embodied how a fighter should carry himself both in and out of the cage. Not a trash talker at all, but simply worked to improve his skills on a daily basis.
When he faced defeat twice in his career, he was able to avenge both losses. His first loss came when he was still just a blossoming prospect who got rushed into a matchup with Matt Hughes, one of the greatest fighters in history. He would capture the UFC title the next time he stepped in the cage with Hughes, and then again, winning the trilogy in their third scrap.
His other loss was when he was on the wrong side of the greatest upset in MMA history, being knocked out by Matt Serra at UFC 69. Instead of folding from the defeat, he overcame the heartbreak to be even more dominant. He would rematch Serra to win back his title and then go on his historic run.
His resume of wins is nothing short of amazing. He has defeated the likes of Karo Parisyan, Jason Miller, Frank Trigg, Sean Sherk, B.J. Penn (twice), Matt Hughes (twice), Josh Koscheck (twice), Matt Serra, Jon Fitch, Thiago Alves, Dan Hardy, Jake Shields, Carlos Condit, Nick Diaz, Johny Hendricks and Michael Bisping.
Despite everything St. Pierre has accomplished in the sport, I think his wrestling skill is what impresses me most. The Canadian fighter did not come from a wrestling background but might have turned himself into the greatest MMA wrestler of all time, which is highlighted best by holding the record for most takedowns in UFC history.
Sure, I wish we got to see him fight Anderson Silva in his prime or test himself against the best fighters today like Khabib Nurmagomedov and Tyron Woodley, but at the end of the day, I feel privileged to have been able to witness this man compete.
He was a once in a lifetime fighter. I hope he enjoys retirement.
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Jason Burgos: My indoctrination into mixed martial arts was a little different than most fans from a decade ago. For many, a bloody brawl between Stephan Bonnar and Forrest Griffin was the moment MMA grabbed onto them and never let go. For me Kimbo Slice, and then Brock Lesnar, were the magnetic forces that drew me to the sport. Their pro-wrestling style presentations were an easy sell for this long-time fan of that predetermined industry.
Now, you may be asking yourself, “why the heck is this guy talking about Lesnar and Slice when this is a Georges St. Pierre piece?’” Well sir, I am getting to that. While those burly and imposing figures made me want to watch MMA, it was St. Pierre that made me appreciate the nuance, and skill, involved in the sport. Developing a love in me that pushed me to write about MMA professionally.
With St. Pierre, there are so many iconic moments that fans can point to as the most memorable for them from the Canadian. There’s his submission win over Michael Bisping that earned him two-division champion status. The two-round destruction of Matt Serra, as he avenged his shocking loss to the New York native. Being put in serious danger by Carlos Condit, and then persevering with technical expertise to win going away. There are so many.
Of the plethora of options, one particular moment stands out for me. In his rematch with B.J. Penn at UFC 94, “Rush” surgically dismantled the lightweight champion -- and one of the best fighters on the planet -- over four rounds. At the end of the fourth, as the pair were separated by the referee, Penn looked fatigued and already mentally defeated. Yet St. Pierre was the opposite. In a show of fiery emotion -- a rarity for the mild-mannered champion -- he punched the cage wall in anger.
This was the fourth round of a grinding fight between two of the best in the world, and St. Pierre was so fired up and energized, he could have probably fought for four more rounds. That moment encompassed the greatness of “GSP.” Penn was known for his violence and blood licking, yet St. Pierre was the destructor, punching cages in fury.
It showed the toughness he always hid behind the grinning matinee idol looks. It showed his fight IQ and use of his abilities were truly on another level from all others in the sport. And it set the record straight that you will never outwork nor intimidate him. You will just make him angry, and Penn found out that night you don’t want to make Georges St. Pierre angry.
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Ben Duffy: As someone who graduated high school in the 90s, I'm always struck by a particular privilege kids today have that I and my generation didn't. I refer to the ability to have a good-faith debate about who the best basketball player in the world is. Is it a still-dominant veteran like LeBron James or Kevin Durant? Is it an electrifying scoring machine like Steph Curry or James Harden? You may have your opinion, based on what you value in a player, but you recognize that there's a conversation to be had.
It was not so in the early 90s; to argue that anyone other than Michael Jordan was the best player alive was an act of sheer contrarianism. Not that there weren't people willing to make that argument; I remember a buddy insisting that if he were drafting the ultimate team from scratch, he'd go with a big man first. (My response: "Great. You want Hakeem Olajuwon or Sam Bowie?") I had another friend who would not let go of the fact that, statistically, Jordan wasn't a good three-point shooter. (Rest in peace, Dan.) He just really, really wanted something to pick at, and that was the only flaw he could find.
Not to get pulled too far into those weeds, I only present this to point out that the arguments against Jordan's status as by far the best player of his generation were specious at the time, and have only become sillier-sounding in hindsight. I feel as though St. Pierre falls victim to the same phenomenon, though to a lesser extent. There's certainly more room to argue for Fedor Emelianenko, Anderson Silva or Jon Jones being more accomplished than St. Pierre than for Olajuwon or Magic Johnson being better than Jordan. However, much like my silly high school friends' quibbles with "MJ," the complaints rolled out against "GSP" seem... small and insignificant. He was derided for being a "safe," boring fighter, more bent on avoiding undue risk than finishing fights. That's a matter of opinion, though I can certainly agree in part, but the fact remains that St. Pierre's losses were so few, and so savagely avenged, that his detractors are reduced to picking at his wins.
He was and is criticized for never making the super-fight with Silva happen while both men were at the height of their powers, reigning over adjacent divisions. The fan in me is still screaming and pulling his hair out over it. It could have happened so easily. It would have been the greatest matchup in MMA history and a guaranteed blockbuster event. Yet at the same time, I have to shrug. If the greatest criticism I can level at St. Pierre is that he did not go up a weight class to take on a larger champ who frankly needed the fight more than St. Pierre did, that actually says a lot in favor of the man. That's it. On the one hand you have a frustrating reluctance to overextend himself, both in and out of the cage. On the other hand you have unparalleled dominance, sterling sportsmanship and a record free of any real scandal or tarnish.
The funny thing is, I didn't set out to praise St. Pierre here. I was never a big fan. In my early years of MMA fandom, when I still pulled for individual fighters, I rooted against him constantly: I was sure Karo Parisyan was going to dump him on his head and lock up a kimura. I thought Sean Sherk would do to St. Pierre... well, more or less what St. Pierre did to Sherk. I thought Jason Miller was awesome and hilarious (don't @ me) and wanted nothing more than for him to triangle this Canadian guy off his back.
St. Pierre grew on me over the years, but even then, at best I came to think of him as a fighter to be appreciated rather than loved, in much the same way that my 15-year-old self knew Jordan was the greatest, but thought wearing his jersey was for squares. But in the end, that's the cold, hard beauty of St. Pierre's body of work: It doesn't need me -- or you -- to love it, believe in it, or be excited by it. The facts stand on their own. He doesn't need your style points. He won, and won, and won, and in the end did it better than anyone who has come before or after. I wish him the best in his future endeavors, but he doesn't need that either; he's always had it figured out.