Four losses. Four damned losses. The thought was unbearable, the situation untenable. The hand of the lesser fighter was raised and, perhaps for the first time, it wasn't Leonard Garcia, the king of Split Decisions. There's an assumption on behalf of the fans that athletes live in some type of ego-powered capsule from the real world. An assumption that even as Leonard Garcia was showered with boos in the octagon in the past that he still fervently believed he won against the Korean Zombie. Or against Nam Phan. He knew otherwise. Garcia felt it in his gut, the nasty sour feeling of a loss, of coming up short ... even as his hand was raised. That's why he immediately granted rematches to both of them. This time though was different. He had won the fight - advancing, stalking, swarming his opponent with an endless barrage of straights, jabs, leg kicks, and hooks - but the referee was pointing a different a way. The announcer was calling a different name. Leonard had won the fight, but lost the decision. Who loses four times in a row in the UFC and keeps their roster spot? The graciousness in the ring from his opponent, Max Holloway, turned to forgetful confidence outside of it with the media. In the ring, Holloway admitted to Garcia that he had lost. He said it with his mouth as much his eyes and body language broadcast it to the entire world. Leonard's slip in the first round suddenly became a legit knockdown. The same slip that cost him the round and ultimately the fight. Would anyone listen to Leonard Garcia if he bemoaned the bad luck of a split decision? Hell no. And he didn't bother. Luck breaks both ways and he knew that he had some bad coming with the all the good he'd gotten. So he went back to his dressing room with his trainers to await the inevitable bad news. Four losses. Four damned losses. Dana White appeared along with a host of other top UFC officials throughout the show. Strange for the big men of the promotion to make a pilgrimage back stage in the middle of a pay-per-view, in the middle of a heavyweight championship night, to talk to a career prelim fighter. Even stranger ... Four losses or not, there was no way that Garcia was getting cut. No way. They saw in the cage the sweat and blood from a different type of camp. They saw the change in Leonard's approach to fighting. No longer was he just sparring with the intent to brawl his way to a split decision. No. Leonard Garcia is secretly remaking himself as a fighter. Go back and watch the fight, watch that first round and see that the slugfest master still had his elbows tucked tight at his ribs with his head bobbing, his hands throwing combos alongside those sweeping hooks. See the cadence of his "Mexican war cry" with each pop, pop, pop of his punches as it focused his breathing. This was a different Leonard Garcia. This was a ... technical (!) Leonard Garcia? At least for one full round. All the characteristics of the Mexican Zombie were still there - relentless pressure of the prototypically fearless Chicano fighter, the toughness from breaking horses and bones in West Texas, the power that belongs to a Welterweight. Yet underneath the veneer of the "Bad Boy" there were signs of a renaissance. Garcia is not content to be a love-able brawler with a .500 record. He has embraced the path of a martial artist again: taking classes at the Jackson's, relearning his fundamentals, recruiting fighters to sharpen himself against like Diego Brandao's ground game, Clay Guida's wrestling, "Cowboy" Cerrone's stand-up. For the first time in his 14-year career, he had a boxing coach. Even in a loss, the signs were there. But that wasn't what saved Leonard from the chopping block. The best performance of his career had ended in a loss, but a loss is a loss is a loss. And four losses ... Four damned losses, back to back to back to back. What saved Leonard Garcia and kept him in the UFC is the very same thing that got him into the UFC in the first place. It's the very same thing that got him into fighting, that got him up to a 9-1 record, that made him take a short notice fight against Roger Huerta despite being out of MMA for 4 years and wade through 15 minutes of a merciless beating. Leonard Garcia has heart.
Against the Korean Zombie, Garcia lowered his gloves and smiled. Go ahead. Hit me. A flurry of punches and a lost mouthpiece later, Leonard was still smiling. You're not going to break me. You're just going to make me come harder. This is the same approach he's taken to life. That is what kept Leonard Garcia in the UFC. That is why a procession of UFC top dogs filed through his dressing room as an acknowledgement of the grit and heart of this fighter. Martial arts will teach you a lot of things. It will teach you discipline. It will teach you humility. It will show you transcendent greatness in the explosive double leg of a Georges St-Pierre or the artistry of Anderson Silva ducking through a hail of punches to land a single fight ending jab. It can teach you everything you need to know about life. And yet the most important thing it can teach was on display in the cage as the victorious Leonard Garcia watched as the losing fighter had his hand raised as the winner. Smile. Lower your gloves. Go ahead and hit me. You're not going to break me. I'm just gonna come harder. Full Interview with Leonard Garcia http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_MjDRZlLb4