What’s the deal with Jon Jones?
Anyone curious to find out more about the cast-away MMA great could have tuned into Joe Rogan’s podcast, and still have emerged on the other side none the wiser. To put it in a nutshell, Jon Jones is a conundrum unto himself.
On one side, a sense of destiny appeals greatly to him. He subscribes to the notion that his story, despite a sequence of never-ending setbacks, is far from over. He wants to inspire people; to be that role model who has braved the darkest of nights and held on till the light at the end of the tunnel.
The only problem is that Jon Jones isn’t that person. And he knows it too.
In a society that vilifies greatness as much as reveres it, Jon Jones is a lamb caught in front of the overbearing hue of the spotlight. Convinced to a fault of his own greatness, and yet, incapable of dealing with it or wearing it lightly, in the public’s eye.
As “great” as GSP or Anderson Silva were, neither of them was as naturally talented as Jon Jones. Understandably, as much as they achieved in the sport, the allure of greatness probably never appealed to them as much as it does to him either.
Jon Jones is fuelled by his pursuit of greatness, as much as he is encumbered by it. He fights against himself as much as he fights against his opponents. However, while his victories continue racking up inside the Octagon, he doesn’t seem to have the same success in dealing with his own demons.
Where Jon Jones falls short isn’t in the fact that he is imperfect like every single one of us. He suffers because he is fully aware of his imperfections, and yet can’t help but strive towards perfection due to this sense of destiny that he judges himself against.
His outrageous talent forever seeks to be fulfilled, and in pursuit of that, he doesn’t even notice coasting past the corners that others would be loath to cut. In his head, this is his imperfection. His yin in his personal life, that balances out the yang that has allowed him to be a trailblazer in the UFC.
When it cost a pregnant lady a broken arm, however, his philosophy came crashing down around him. Not as much because of the event itself nurdling his conscience, but because the public outcry was vitriolic, to say the least. The incident and its fallout may not have changed Jones, but at least it emphasised a need for change.
As a result, we see a much more measured Jon Jones today. Perhaps more politically correct. Perhaps a tad more polite. Certainly a more self-aware man than he has ever been before. He hasn’t quite attained to the state of Zen that was popularized by Conor McGregor, but at least he is trying.
What the world doesn’t seem to understand and empathize with is that this is Jones making an effort.
Worryingly – as evinced by the ungainly incident with the traffic cop and the subsequent USADA suspension before UFC 200 – it may even be as far as he could possibly go. Although that notion may evoke affront while sinking in, perhaps we should be asking ourselves why we expect him to be any different in the first place.
Is it because we recognise his greatness in the Octagon, and somehow – almost illogically – expect his life outside of it to mirror it? Or is it because we as a society are inherently flawed in that we’re geared to be in awe of these athletes when they achieve what we cannot and, in equal measure, to pile on them and ground them to dust when they slip up?
Just like Conor McGregor was dismissed as an inept scam artist when he was choked out by Nate Diaz at UFC 196 or how Ronda Rousey was hounded into seclusion with an outpour of hate when she lost to Holly Holm.
Jon Jones was labelled as a scum-of-the-earth drug addict; a “coke-head”, to be precise. An irresponsible and undeserving citizen, who has practically been gifted everything that he has today.
In the blink of an eye, the unpredictable explosiveness in the Octagon that left his opponents stumbling and the audience scraping their jaws off the ground was forgotten. The resume littered with the names of one legend after the next was banished. The fact that he is virtually undefeated was conveniently ignored, and upon him converges a world of hate for not reflecting his fight dexterity onto other facets in his life.
Don't get me wrong here. I'm not justifying Jon Jones' actions or way of life. Even he wouldn't be presumptuous enough to do so. All I'm suggesting is that whilst Jon Jones isn't the person that we want him to become, perhaps he is exactly the one that he needs to be.
In other words, his indiscretions outside the Octagon are tied into what makes him a virtuoso powerhouse inside of it.
It is because he entertains the devil on his shoulder who eggs him on to live life on his terms, that he is able to summon himself at will to aspire to the mantle of greatness each and every time he squats opposite a man inside the cage.
As fans, it is both highly unfair and unfounded for us to want him to continue being the frontrunner for the GOAT debate in MMA on one hand, and a saint of a man who is above reproach on the other.
Especially given the nature of the sport, which is essentially a controlled expression of violence, isn’t it ironic that we somehow expect exalted standards of citizenry from these fighters when the reason they do what they do is counter-intuitive to every quality that we normally would associate with a utopian citizen?
Do we subconsciously expect fighters to go over and above to prove to us that they are role models in every other sense, just because they embrace the base and feral instincts of humankind as a profession?
If so, perhaps then it would make sense as to why Jon Jones – who is arguably the greatest and certainly one of the nastiest fighters – is held to the unrealistic, bordering on ludicrous standards that we currently subscribe to.
Even the insightful Joe Rogan looked him in the eye during their JRE tete-a-tete, and reminded him that he bears “a responsibility for greatness”. While the astute commentator is generally spot on in his analysis of all things fighting, this is one time I’m inclined to disagree with him.
All Jon Jones has, is a responsibility towards making whatever he wants out of his life. And it is certainly not in our place to judge what that should be. If we do insist on continuing, then it is perhaps time that we accept that the concept of “greatness” that we bandy about like a carrot in front of his head is redundant.
The very fact that we chose him to do it to, confirms that premise.
Jon Jones isn’t great merely because of his inimitable exploits inside the Octagon. It is the fact that a wholly imperfect (and sometimes deplorable) human being can rise to such awe-inducing heights in his chosen field, that makes him truly great.
Don’t try and change Jon Jones the person. For if we do, we may end up losing the fighter.
