Conor McGregor’s surprise announcement, made via Twitter, that he’s decided to call it quits and retire from MMA, followed in quick succession by the revelation that he is the subject of an ongoing police investigation into sexual assault in Ireland, has stirred speculation that the former is connected to the latter, suggesting that things have taken a sharp turn for the worse in the fortunes of the controversial combat sports icon. 

For many who’ve followed his career, revelling in the controversy, chaos and excitement he’s brought to the Octagon, this will be just another day. 

For others, taking more of a sober view, it charts the continuing downward spiral of a fighter who over the past few years bestrode the world if not like a colossus then certainly as close to one as you will find in an age when the soulless nature of fame and celebrity has hit peak aridity and bespeaks the end of days. 

The number of column inches devoted to the Irish MMA star in recent years has entered Elvis territory; such has been his impact not only in the Octagon but also as a cultural icon in his own right. 

The swagger, flashy suits and sunglasses, the in-your-face cockiness and brash confidence, all of it succeeded in striking a nerve with millions for whom his antics provided a visceral liberation from lives of dull conformity and regimentation.

Perversely, in the process, McGregor became associated with defiance of the status quo, when in fact he stands as one of its most towering symbols; his unbridled fame, wealth and notoriety reaffirming rather than challenging the rampant individualism, personal ambition and greed that is its very essence.

For the past few years, the Irishman has chafed against the rigid control of the UFC by its owner and creator, Dana White, a man who holds on to the organisation’s purse strings like a shipwreck survivor onto a life raft. 

McGregor believes he deserves equity in the company, which, given his undeniable star power and how the organisation’s revenues have grown exponentially over the course of his career, is impossible to argue with. 

Mike Chiappetta, senior writer at mmafighting.com, points out that in “2018 and 2019 the [UFC] signed two separate, multi-year deals with ESPN that virtually guarantee that the promotion will receive record revenue, even if pay-per-view receipts dip. Those deals were due in part to the McGregor effect. McGregor has headlined five of the six best-selling UFC pay-per-view events of all-time. He is a historic MMA cash cow, and ESPN was in part paying for the rights to all of his future fights.” 

At some point, though, the question of how much money does one man need hovers into view. McGregor, after his bumper pay day from the Mayweather event in 2017, reputed to be in the region of $100 million, along with his various business interests, including a clothing line and his own whiskey brand, is far from broke.

Flying from one luxury locale to the next, horizons unbounded by financial constraint yet grappling, perhaps, with a residual sense of aimlessness: is this really what it’s all about? Fame without purpose is a prison cell, while fame with purpose offers the comfort of representing a cause greater than self. 

It marks the difference between Conor McGregor and Floyd Mayweather on the one hand, and Muhammad Ali and Teofilo Stevenson on the other. 

Maybe though we’re being hard on McGregor. He is, after all, a product of a certain social, cultural and political reality. He never pretended to stand for anything more virtuous than “making it.” And, too, isn’t there a certain virtue in entertaining and exciting millions of people around the world?

Who knows?

Perhaps ultimately, where Conor McGregor’s concerned, it’s a case of Brecht’s assertion, “Unhappy is the land in need of heroes,” being applicable in reverse.  

“Unhappy is the hero in need of a land.”

Liam Smith v Sam Eggington
Headlining a card in Liverpool tomorrow night that includes David Price and Anthony Fowler is one of those traditional British domestic clashes that promise more action than skill, more heat than tactical nous, and a raucous crowd of partisan support for both fighters.

Liam Smith, member of the proud Liverpool boxing family of the same name, embarks on his first foray as a Hearn fighter against Birmingham’s Sam Eggington, after making the switch from the Frank Warren promotional stable.

The 30-year old former British, Commonwealth and WBO light-middleweight champion will be looking to impress with an eye on some fights to round out a career in which, if anything, he has over achieved. 

The star name on Smith’s record to date is of course Saul “Canelo” Alvarez. The Liverpudlian faced the Mexican in 2016 in the US and did well to survive to the ninth, when he was summarily dispatched with brute efficiency.

Eggington is something of a throwback to the days when boxing was the habitat of men who would gladly fight for nothing. The 25-year-old has taken and lost British, Commonwealth and European titles at welterweight in the course of a career made up of 24 wins and five defeats, one of those by KO. 

His ring name “The Savage” tells you everything you need to know about the heavily tattooed fighter’s approach to life in the squared circle – more bull than matador with the mindset of the mugger rather than dancer. 

Though there are no belts on the line, this should be an interesting encounter, with the fact that Eggington is stepping up in weight offset by him being five years Smith’s junior.

Speaking of Smith and the Smith brothers, the youngest of the pack, Callum Smith, you could be forgiven for thinking has entered a monastery since ending George Groves’s career in the final of the super-middleweight World Boxing Super Series in Saudi Arabia in September last year. 

The WBA champion’s attempts to nail a unification fight with one of the other belt holders at 168lbs have failed to materialise, which given the time that’s elapsed since his scintillating victory over Groves last year, must surely have him scratching his head while casting an accusatory eye over at his promoter Eddie Hearn. 

Many, me included, have long marvelled at the 6'3" hard-punching super-middleweight’s ability to boil himself down to 168lbs, and it would be no surprise if he decides to relinquish his title and moving up to light heavy. There, one Sergey Kovalev awaits, a man most mortals would not choose to mess with unless it’s while standing behind a thousand bayonets.