In His Blood

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The only time the former kickboxer seems to lose focus these days is in calling out potential opponents. Most recently, Cerrone professed a desire to drop to featherweight for a fight with Nam Phan. It was a curious wish for someone on the brink of title contention at 155 pounds, but Cerrone insists he is serious about wanting the fight -- or fights, in general. The opponent, weight class and venue are secondary.

“I’d even go to 170 [pounds],” he says. “It doesn’t matter to me. I just want to fight. If they call me with a fight at 170 and say, ‘Will you take it,’ absolutely I will. If I’m gonna say I’ll fight anyone at any time, I’ve got to be a man of my word. That’s one thing I’ve been raised to do is be a man of my word.”

Do not expect a foray into a new division anytime soon. Now a Top 10 lightweight, there are plenty worthy fights available in the UFC’s deepest weight class.

“Cowboy’s crazy. He’s fighting and winning and doing well at 155, so I don’t see any reason for him to leave that weight class,” Jackson says with a chuckle.

In Diaz, Cerrone has an opponent he views as something of a kindred spirit. At UFC 135, Diaz dissected Takanori Gomi, landing nine times as many strikes as his foe before submitting the former Pride Fighting Championships titleholder with an armbar in round one. Cerrone appreciates Diaz’s combative nature, inside and outside of the cage.

“Before I was fighting him, I liked the guy. He’s the kind of guy [that] if I bumped into him on the street, we’d fight because he’s the same kind of guy as me,” Cerrone says. “If I say what’s up, he’s going to say what’s up, and that’s it. They’re ready to rock. I would say I love [the Diaz brothers’] attitude; talking s---, I like it. The guy brings it. He comes in there, and he comes to fight.”

The Cerrone-Diaz matchup seems destined for some kind of post-fight bonus, which would allow “Cowboy” to add to the ever-growing list of toys he keeps on his ranch in Edgewood, N.M. This year alone, Cerrone says he has used bonus money to buy a house, two trucks, five jet skis, an RV and a wakeboarding boat. He sees the extra cash as disposable income.

“To me, I work hard. That bonus money I’m gonna spend. The money I make for fighting, that’s money that I budgeted and I [save], but the bonus money, I wasn’t gonna get that anyway, so I blow it,” he says.

Cerrone’s devil-may-care attitude is part of what makes him such a fan favorite, but it often shows up because he realizes life is short.

Cerrone believes the cancer that took his grandfather away in February is eventually going to take him, as well. As he drifted away from his parents as a teen-ager, Cerrone’s grandparents became his foundation. They were the ones that supported him when he decided to forego a career in the medical field to become a fighter. They were the ones who attended all of his fights and urged him to strive to be the best.

When his grandfather passed away, Cerrone had already made his peace.

“Most people don’t get the chance to say goodbye and say all the things you want to say. I got to sit there and talk with him; I was in the hospital when they called me for the fight [with Kelly]. I just talked with him about life and all the questions that I always wanted to ask him,” he says.

Still, the impact of the loss of his grandfather was profound.

“He kept most of that out of the gym,” Winkeljohn says. “You could tell he was depressed. I remember he broke down after his fight. You could tell there was some deep emotion coming out of that kid, even when he went through that fight.”

Cerrone still talks to his grandmother every day on the phone, but he realizes her time is limited, too. Instead of attending UFC 141 in person, she will be watching on TV.

“She’s getting real sick, too, so she told me she won’t be able to make it,” Cerrone says. “She’s talking foolishness and crazy about how she just wants to be with him. I understand where she’s coming from, but it’s gonna suck when that day comes, too.”

Cerrone is fiercely loyal to his inner circle. His attempts to call out Phan and Cole Miller, both of whom own victories over best friend Leonard Garcia, are indicative of that endearing trait. While his rogue personality makes him marketable, it is his intense devotion to the people who matter that resonates most with Jackson.

“One of the things that makes him special is you always know where you stand with him, and he’ll eat bullets for you. He’s just that guy,” Jackson says.

For all of his bravado, Cerrone does not have a timetable for when he would like a shot at the lightweight title. While admitting that he envisions a third bout with Henderson with a belt at stake down the road, “Cowboy” does not believe he needs to be elevated to No. 1 contender status with a win over Diaz. At the moment, winning fights and making money are incentive enough.

“My mind has to be 100 percent. Holding that belt, there’s a lot of pressure with that. Everything’s gotta be going right,” he says. “People look up to you. I’ve got to have all my ducks in a row. I’m on the road to that, but am I in a hurry? No. Do I want to keep fighting? Yes.”

After all, it is what Cerrone was born to do.