When Is It OK to Tell a Legend to Hang It Up?

The Legends, they may've been around since the beginning and some even revolutionized the sport during its painfully awkward middle years.

They have more five-star matches, world titles, and accolades then upcoming fighters would dare to dream about. They still can draw the crowds off of past accolades and great matches with former opponents.

But when is enough truly enough?

When is it time to politely ask them to hang up the gloves and step out of the Octagon?

I, for one, will readily admit that when I see a "Shamrock" on a card, Chuck Liddell headlining a PPV, a returning Coleman or a trundling Abbott plodding his way toward the ring, I'm transported back eight to 10 years to when the sport first started.

When Ken Shamrock was shredding tendons in everyone's knees, Frank causing KOs by slams, and Tank Abbott still tossing bombs.

I fully relive the day when my dad and I sat and watched Liddell/Couture 1 from the nose bleeds whenever I see a Liddell match. It's like a free trip back in time.

But the momentary enjoyment of remembering fond times past is quickly ousted by the foreboding sense of doom. These men are still walking into the Octagon against younger, more well rounded, hungrier, and more dangerous opponents. They're stepping in against what may be an entire generational shift up the talent ladder.

And the results are disturbing. Can anyone else remove the image of Chuck laying motionless on the mat from their heads?

What about the shock in the Anaheim audience as Matt Lindland stared unblinking up at the lights while a stretcher was brought to the ring?

Ken Shamrock has spent more time laying down in a ring then he has fighting in it over the last four years. His lights were forcably snuffed out by Ortiz twice, and Robert Berry, Rich Franklin, and Sakuraba each knocked him out too.

Wanderlei Silva, though not at the end of his game just yet, was put out by a punch that he very well could have taken three to four years ago.

In addition to simply not having the same reflexes and muscular builds, aging in a ring is like hitting fast-forward on your brain. Synapses don't fire as quickly, so hands can't come up to block the way they used to. The jarring effects of concussive shots are more pronounced and lead to longer and longer recovery times.

These legends may be giving away their fine motor skills later in life, for a chance to take a punch today!

But it seems their love of the sport has clouded their judgement. If you'd been sitting at the top of the division, possibly the pound-for-pound rankings just a few short years ago, would you be ready to give it up?

The thirst for glory, the warrior spirit, the feel of adrenaline—addictive to say the least.

Maybe that's why Chuck Liddell has agreed to face "Shogun" Rua. Regardless of his last performances, Rua is younger and has much more to lose then Chuck. Rua has a chance to put his career back on track, while Chuck simply has a chance to postpone his swansong another match or two.

It's the same Catch-22 as taking away a senior citizen's driver's license. We are imposing our will on people who are no longer able to do something they've loved for so long. After all, who are we to say they can't fight anymore?

So when do we, as fans, plead with these legends to stop taping up those hands and risk themselves (not to mention the sport) for a sport that may have very well past them by?

I, for one, pray that the realization doesn't come at the end of a fist.