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The Dark Side of UFC: Evan Tanner's Battle with Addiction

The Gladiator Spirit and Personal Demons: Evan Tanner‘s Poignant UFC Journey

Evan Tanner brought a unique spirit to MMA colored by philosophical musings and a nomadic, adventurous lifestyle. His unconventional journey to UFC glory reflects the complex duality of human nature – the power of the unrelenting mind to achieve greatness, and its susceptibility to fall prey to inner demons.

Driven by Personal Loss and Unconventional Wisdom
Tanner‘s entry into MMA came from a place of profound personal loss and soul-searching. In 1997, his best friend died in a tragic shooting accident. Emotionally adrift, Tanner immersed himself in philosophical and spiritual texts searching for meaning. He became fascinated by the iconic ‘gladiator‘ archetype and the mental resilience of ancient warriors.

Tanner saw MMA as a chance to hone that psychological armor – a crucible to confront fear and build courage under the harshest conditions. Combining his wilderness survival skills with an obsessive study of Brazilian jiu-jitsu, Tanner forged an unorthodox fighting philosophy stressing creativity and improvisation.

This approach found success in smaller leagues as Tanner amassed a 25-8 record across three years and dozens of intense fights. His thirst for competition and hunger to test himself knew no bounds. Tanner lived as a vagabond fighter financing his way by competing constantly, often several times a month.

But as his victories mounted, so too did the damage inflicted on his body and psyche. The non-stop fighting and training in harsh environments began to fracture his already fragile mental health.

The Gladiator‘s Shadow: Addiction and Mental Health in the UFC Community

Behind the spectacle of personalities, drama and violence, the UFC and wider MMA community grapples with alarming mental health challenges. Studies suggest up to 35% of active fighters live with some form of mental illness or substance abuse disorder.

The numbers are likely higher as tough-guy attitudes and social stigma prevent disclosure. Fighters endure violent physical trauma with regularity and struggle to cope outside competition. Financial instability and career uncertainty also loom large.

Evan Tanner fit the afflicted profile all too well. His adventurous spirit masked deep depression and difficulty connecting meaningfully with others. Tanner turned to alcohol abuse numbing his lingering pain. Eventually drinking binges disrupted his training regimen despite strong performances.

By 2005, Tanner confessed: “Somewhere along the way I gave up, buried my emotions in a bottle and lost myself.” His candor echoed that of countless fighters who have shared similar battles. UFC Hall of Famer Chuck Liddell long struggled with alcoholism and infamously appeared intoxicated during an embarrassing final bout.

Fan favorite Joe Lauzon has been transparent about his depression, drinking issues and near-retirement. In 2013, boxer Tommy Morrison died from medical complications exacerbated by substance addiction. Reality show contestant Josh Samman‘s drug abuse resulted in a devastating overdose death.

The examples are all too plentiful, highlighting the amplified threats addiction and trauma pose to fighters‘ safety. Within the hypermasculine food chain of MMA promoting detached toughness, getting support remains complex.

Rising Up from the Ashes: The Champion Returns

In early 2006, Tanner made a Life-altering decision – he committed to getting sober. After years lost in ‘wine and gold‘, Tanner rediscovered his competitive fire and joined the prominent UFC promotion. He continued displaying his signature philosophical outlook and adventurous training while demonstrating a strengthened focus some feared the alcohol had permanently eroded.

Later that year, Tanner shocked MMA circles by defeating David Terrell for the UFC Middleweight Championship. In a testament to the powers of human will, his new lease brought championship glory in his return to the spotlight. Tanner proved cynics wrong who questioned whether he had wasted his prime.

Tanner‘s inspirational rise serves as a microcosm of the perpetual chance at redemption powering human achievement – no matter how far we may stray from the path. Unfortunately, more trauma loomed on the horizon as both his sobriety and life entered ominous territory beyond the ring.

Life After Glory: Peril Awaits in the Desert

Tanner stepped away from MMA‘s glare in mid-2007 following two tough losses. He retreated to his sanctuary – the Southern California desert wilderness. There, he focused on adventure writing initiatives and rebuilt vitality drained during years battling addiction.

But peril lurked beneath the stillness. During a solo motorcycle excursion in 2008, Tanner became stranded without food or water for days in sweltering conditions. Alone and exposed to the elements with no chance of rescue, the 37-year-old succumbed to the environment. The agony of his final hours remains unimaginable.

Ultimately heat took him, but some questioned if addiction played an indirect role. Perhaps sobriety had freed Tanner‘s impulses toward dangerous isolation once suppressed by alcohol. We may never fully understand if he fell off the wagon or lost survival savvy from years of drinking. Regardless, his vulnerability was amplified exponentially far off grid.

While award-winning director Oren Kaplan sought to honor Tanner‘s enigmatic life in his film “The Ghost in the Desert,” the loss devastated fans and illuminated the amplified threats addiction poses to fighters. Even after achieving redemption in sport, human frailty endures. But spiritual legacies can still emerge from suffering if we share their lessons.

Finding Redemption in the Octagon: Josh Samman’s Journey

Josh Samman’s dramatic rise, fall and redemption in the Octagon echoes Evan Tanner’s journey of soaring triumph and personal anguish years earlier. Like Tanner, Samman’sInterior conflicts and substance abuse crippled a promising fighting career. But his defiant comeback forged an enduring legacy immortalized in his searing memoir “The Housekeeper.”

After a strong showing in 2013’s The Ultimate Fighter reality show, Samman earned a UFC contract and became an emerging middleweight force. But sudden tragedy outside the ring halted that momentum.

“She was my compass home” – Coping with Loss in the Spotlight

In late 2013, Samman’s girlfriend, Hailey Bevis, died in an abrupt car accident. The loss left Samman drowning in grief, plagued by an overwhelming sense of guilt and responsibility. Emotionally adrift, reckless behavior and substance abuse soon derailed his UFC ascent.

“Losing her sent me into indulging in a dangerous lifestyle – drinking excessively and making a lot of irrational choices,” he later shared. “In losing her I lost myself.” Over two years Samman cycled through drink, cocaine and pills in an increasingly self-destructive pattern.

His fighting career spiraled downward accordingly as competitive focus waned. By early 2016, Samman stood far from the UFC elite staring down the barrel of forced retirement – an all too familiar precarious position for many veterans struggling with mental health issues.

"Pick Yourself Up, Dust Yourself Off" – Redemption in the Octagon
At his darkest hour contemplating his descent from prospect to washed-up drunk, Samman unwillingly entered rehab. There he found the conviction to cut out toxic habits, heal his body and focus energy on resurrecting his fighting career against all odds.

Approaching his 33rd birthday in 2016, he leveraged connections to get one more shot on a UFC FightPass card. He would face Tim Boetsch in a chance to script a Hollywood ending. Adding to the drama, a torn hamstring early in the bout left Samman severely compromised.

But he refused to yield – fighting on in agony against medical guidance like a wounded gladiator from ages past. Samman ultimately lost by TKO but emerged as the clear moral victor in fans‘ eyes. His courageous stand in memory of his lost love left few dry eyes in the arena.

The bittersweet defeat marked the launch of Samman‘s tell-all memoir – a chronicle of suffering, violence, addiction and loss all endured amid his quest for purpose in the octagon spotlight. Penned during recovery, "The Housekeeper" garnered strong reviews for its candid portrayal of the lighter and darker halves of life in MMA.

Both In and Out of the Ring, We all Walk a Perilous Line

Two months after his stirring in-cage tribute to Hailey, a deadly drug overdose claimed Samman‘s life at age 32. The years of substance abuse had clearly worn down his bodily defenses until they could take no more.

The tragic end underscored the fine line those battling addiction walk between recovery and relapse. Samman appeared posthumously on Joe Rogan’s massively popular podcast to discuss his memoir, marking a prime opportunity to illuminate mental health challenges in MMA. His advocacy in life and through his art remain his lasting legacy.

In poignant symmetry with Josh Samman earlier, Tanner too perished shortly after launching passion projects he viewed as true life purposes following his fighting days. Their interwoven tales underscore the search for meaning and vulnerability all fighters – and indeed all people – endure internally and externally.

In the UFC and in this mortal realm, nothing is guaranteed. Each day brings suffering and loss, joy and triumph without reason. In the octagon, as in the desert, we all walk a perilous line. Evan Tanner and Josh Samman teach us that how we live and face death defines a worthy life.

Their legacies call on all fighters — in sport and in spirit — to passionately seize redemptive moments from adversity. We best honor these complex, at times troubled figures by sharing the fullness of their humanity without judgment.

In a game still dismissed by some as spectacle brutality marketed using outsized personalities, the real-life battles with trauma and mental illness in the MMA community remind us that every fighter bears an intimate narrative. May we celebrate their latent warrior spirit and support them more compassionately in their darker hours moving forward. The lives we save extend beyond rankings and championships.