The Legacy of Evan Tanner

By now you’ve heard that Evan Tanner has passed.  If not, please read the following tributes:

Remembering Evan Tanner, by Kid Nate (Bloody Elbow)

Evan Tanner 1971 - 2008, by Ryan Harkness (Fightlinker)

Additionally, please go here and sign the petition to help us convince the UFC to induct Evan Tanner into the Hall of Fame.  It’s more than deserved, as evidenced by the over 130 signatures that we collected in the first two and a half hours that it was up.

This is not Canadian MMA by any means, but if you’re an MMA fan, it doesn’t matter where you live: this is important, so please read on.

Evan Tanner was one of my favourite fighters - and favourite figures - in mixed martial arts.  He was unique, an individual.  He had a brain in his head and wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and he also had demons in his personal life that he had no choice but to fight.  He was charitable, tough, flawed, unpredictable, and ultimately, human.  So here are some things that we can learn from Evan Tanner, lessons that as much as the recordings of his fights, are his legacy to us.

If you can imagine it, you can do it.

Evan did things that most of us will never come close to, and not just by winning a UFC title belt (though that certainly ranks up there).  He criss-crossed North America, made and lost money, read as many books and watched as many films as he could, and tried to go to places that few others had visited.  It wasn’t this last trip, into the desert of southern California, that cost him his life; it was just a series of chances.  Did the trip raise the odds of harm coming to him?  Certainly, but those odds are always there; I’ve known healthy young people who have fallen asleep and died without waking.  Evan looked at the odds and said, “For the experience of going, it’s a risk worth taking.”  We should all have the courage and perspective to be so bold.

Everyone has something to give.

Evan battled some serious personal demons, and partly because of them, at times he was so poor he had to live in the gym where he trained.  His manager would occassionally check up on him to make sure he had food.  Many people are in situations like this; many grow understandably bitter and frustrated.  What did Evan do?  He built a playground.  He signed autographs for fans.  He spent time with people, doing what he could to cheer them up.  So many of us are in far less dire circumstances than Evan Tanner, and we do so much less for those around us.  We all have something to give, and we must never deny ourselves the chance to give it, nor should we ever assume those around us cannot also make contributions.

Strength does not mean having no weakness; strength is found in struggling against weakness.

Fightlinker’s piece on Evan Tanner closes with this line that I liked:

Evan Tanner was a drunk and an alcoholic. Many of the pseudo-obituaries on other pages have decided to ignore this fact, but I’m including it because I think it’s probably one of the most defining characteristics of his personality. For the two years he spent away from the UFC he drank himself nearly to death. Then he came to the point where a decision had to be made, and he chose life. He chose a day to stop drinking, and he did it: he stopped drinking. He worked towards returning to the UFC and he did it. He returned to the UFC. Even through his losses I found inspiration, because Evan had gone as far down the path of self-destruction as one can, and had made it back to tell the tale. Those who ignore that facet of Evan’s existence for reasons of political correctness are in the wrong. We don’t care about Evan Tanner in spite of his shortcomings. We cared about him because of his shortcomings.

Evan himself wrote about his battle with alcohol after his loss to Okami, and said this:

That moment, in the silence of the dressing room, faced with crushing disappointment, numbing embarrassment, and that heavy sadness, I faced the old demons. I felt so low, as if everything had been lost. I wanted to drink. I faced those old demons again, and I beat them down. I won the battle, and I won the war. I didn’t drink, and I won’t. That was my great test, one I had to face before I could really move on. I passed it. I stand triumphant, solid, UNSHAKEABLE.

I feel confident in saying that Evan Tanner is a symbol of strength, and not because he was perfect or invulnerable, but because he was flawed and damaged and fought on anyway.  He showed it in the ring; he showed it in life.

So what does Evan Tanner’s legacy mean for you?  For me, I’m rededicating myself to my training, because the challenge can only make me healthier and improve my skills.  I’m rededicating myself to the social causes that I’ve let slide because it was just “too hard” or I was “too busy” to fight for them.  I’m going to confront my flaws head-on, and I may never beat them, but they’ll never beat me either.  And I’m going to try and follow the advice of Evan’s friend, John Hayner, and carry on the spirit of Evan’s “Believe in the power of one” campaign by trying to do my best for those in need.  It’s up to everyone to decide for themselves how they’ll respond to Evan’s passing, and what his legacy will be; but if Evan showed us anything at all, it’s that the ability to choose is the most powerful ability we have.  So choose to do something, choose to do something that’s difficult, that challenges, and that reaches someone else, and if you fail, pick yourself back up and try again.  Just like Evan would.