RIP to My Hero Kimbo Slice

I’ve tried several times to sit down and pen something genuine about a man who really touched my life in a number of ways, perhaps too many to count if I’m being honest. I never hid the fact that I cut my hair and beard to look like Ferg. I could routinely be seen in and around any gym I trained in singing his praises and mimicking his soft-spoken, yet often profane, verbal tirades when given the chance. He was my guy. Everybody has their fighter or their team and mine was Kimbo Slice.

Kevin Ferguson AKA Kimbo Slice 2/8/1974-6/6/2016

By all rights I shouldn’t ever have been a fan of his. See I’m an old school MMA nerd and I make no bones about how I think the sport has had a steady decline of testosterone (ironically, despite the many failed drug tests) and a rise in paper champions.  Even during the UFC’s rise to global prominence in the mid-2000s, which coincided with Kimbo’s rise to internet stardom, the MMA world slowly began to get a little too “fancy” for my taste. Guys started to bail on fights because of strained muscles and bad camps and during fights guys, champions even, would just peter out and chalk it up to “lack of prep.”

In short, MMA started to become a place for guys to just show up, put in some work and if they lost “oh well, I got the endorsement money.”

 Then along comes Ferg working the fridge like a heavy bag…

Lifting cinder block weights…

Fighting bare knuckle for cash…

Suddenly I went from looking up ADCC highlights online to watching this crazy looking guy beat the snot out of people for the glory of a few guys in an Expedition and a wad of cash. If that’s not the spirit of being a prize fighter, what is?

His barebones, no-nonsense style reminded me of how I came up and what it was like for me and my boys training when I was a kid. Working a patchwork heavy bag hanging from a dead pecan tree in my back yard, running some chain through cinder blocks to do power cleans and curls, basically using all that I had to get my workouts in. And I put in the work, every single day. I was out chopping wood in the summer, running sprints in the winter and doing all manner of work in-between when I couldn’t hit the weights at school to get myself in fighting shape.

Seeing Kimbo train like that and make it to EliteXC and later to the UFC was such an inspiring tale for me. He was no marketing genius or some new-era training philosopher, he just put in the work. He knew that he had two hands and a strong jaw and he was determined to take that as far as he could. There were certainly those who loved to discount his success because he was a “freak” and promoters were taking advantage of the hype, but that’s the effect of entertainment in sports, fans want to see characters they know, watch interesting fighters and get a good story and the man known as Kimbo Slice gave all of that each time he stepped into the cage or the ring.

I bought this hat in Las Vegas
about ten years ago, I still wear it
almost everyday

He reminded me that fighting was just that-fighting! I had been training in two gyms during his prime years and I was surrounded by guys that wanted to get in a decent enough shape to walk around with no shirt on and pretend that they were as bad as Chuck Liddell. Never once did I see any of those guys actually fight. Me, I signed up for my first Toughman tournament, put on the wraps and went to work on a heavy bag. Doing my sit ups. Doing my road work. I worked my ass off to be the best I could be, with the resources I had at the time. I remember eating tuna three to four times a day, because it was all I could afford and doing cardio on an empty stomach almost every day. I cut my hair like Ferg and grew my beard out because I wanted people do a double take when they saw me, I wanted people to know I was here and would not be ignored.  Kimbo reignited that attitude in me that I had lost. Through him I was reminded that it’s okay to be tough and to let people know it, and you didn’t have to step on people to be strong. If anything, your strength and determination acts as a beacon for those beneath you to become inspired and endeavor to be greater than they are.

That is what Kevin Ferguson’s story means to me.

I owe a debt of gratitude to the man from the 305. His short, violent career in MMA helped me to conquer my fear of competition and step in the ring and test myself. He showed the world that being poor doesn’t mean you can’t work yourself out of it and it doesn’t mean you don’t have anything to offer. Kimbo’s story is the American Dream, growing up out of nothing he became somebody that not only was famous, but inspired a movement for other young men living in poverty to put up their dukes and literally fight their way to something better.

I hate that I never had a chance to meet the man to say thank you. There have been many fighters and sports figures over the years who have inspired me to get up, but there’s only one Kimbo Slice…may he rest in peace, but may his story never be forgotten.