Iceman by Chuck Liddell

but not quite ready to completely sever ties.

    Me and Pops. He was always there to support me. If he could only see me now.
    Also, it was a good time to have someone I was comfortable with around, because that Thanksgiving Pops passed away. We’re not the most emotional family, and a lot of that came from Pops. He had been a coroner in the sheriff’s department for a while, and from the time we were young, both he and my mom taught all us kids that death was a part of life. Before he retired, Pops had befriended a man who had tried to commit suicide by blowing his head off with a shotgun. It didn’t work, and instead the guy shot off half his face. The point of the story, Pops told us, was that if it’s not your time, it’s not going to happen and then you have to live with it. But when it is, there’s no use in everyone who is left behind shedding tears. We did a lot of internalizing when it came to that. Although, to this day, I’m sad he never got to see me fight in the UFC. It’s a huge regret for me. He had told me since I was a kid I could be the best in the world at whatever I did. Sure, that’s what everyone’s parents or grandparents say, but Pops made you believe it.
    Casey and I were in one of our “off” phases, as our situation seemed to change week to week. But we’d still talk and see each other regularly, so I could tell when something was wrong. And she did not look healthy. Her face was flushed, as though she had a fever, and she seemed tired and irritable. I kept asking her, what’s wrong, what’s wrong? Finally she told me, “I’m pregnant.”
    You’d think I’d be freaking out. My eighteen-year-old girlfriend whom I’d just taken to the prom was pregnant. Meanwhile, I’m twenty-six, working in a bar, making nearly nothing as a kickboxer, teaching at the Y, and training to become a professional fighter in a league a senator who had been a prisoner of war thought was so violent and repulsive he called it the equivalent to “human cockfighting.” No state wanted to host a UFC fight, and to make matters worse, there was a good chance this league might go under any day, before I even had a chance to make my professional debut.
    Casey was sure I’d be mad when she told me she was pregnant. But I wasn’t. After I heard the news I just stared straight ahead for a few seconds. Casey tried talking to me to snap me out of it, but I could barely hear her. Eventually I slowly felt a smile creep across my face. I was going to be a dad. I was thrilled.
    If you’re the kind of guy who stresses about how to support a family, then my life wasn’t—and still isn’t—for you. But I never worried about that. My mom worked hard and she loved us. My grandparents worked hard and loved us. I grew up in a house where making ends meet was a challenge, and I don’t think I suffered because of it. I don’t think I even noticed it. In fact, if we were any more comfortable, I’m not sure I’d be who I am today or doing what I’m doing today. I may have lived in a nicer neighborhood, gotten in fewer fights, had more space to avoid my brothers, or not moved in with my grandparents. I would have missed out on living under the same roof as the single greatest male influence in my life, my grandfather. So, no, stressing about making money wasn’t my biggest concern. I knew what it took to raise a child, and being comfortable had little to do with it.
    That night I called my mom and told her the news. I couldn’t have played it straighter, saying, “Mom, Casey is having a baby and it’s mine.” It’s not that I wanted to downplay it for her sake, or downplay it at all. I was actually just calling her to find out if how badly Casey was feeling was normal.
    Needless to say, my mom was shocked. She thought we had broken up. And we had. Casey and I weren’t going to get