This Day in Death

6.6.16: Kimbo Slice – DEAD!

Filed under: Dead —James @ 1:40 pm June 13, 2016

KIMBO_SLICEGranted, he was pretty intimidating, but you could put that durag on Fred Savage and I’d be just as scared. Wait, no, that’s not true.

 

As I’ve had to (ironically, at this point) disclaim many times, we don’t do many sports posts around here. Nope, I’ve sat through Over the Top, both Major Leagues, and all of those Karate Kid movies, and the evidence is clear; Sports dramatically raise your risk of exposure to dated buttrock soundtracks. Talk to your doctor if you’ve experienced symptoms of Chronic Obstructive Loggins Disease, Hagar Immunodeficiency Syndrome (HIV), or Bononucleosis.

Nonetheless, today we’re talking about the death of Kevin Ferguson, aka Kimbo Slice, and not just because we share the same nickname. Of course, the difference is that he became known as “Slice” after leaving a large cut on an opponent’s face, whereas I got it because I once ate half the menu at the Cheesecake Factory to win a bet. The medics said I wouldn’t survive the night, although I think they underestimated just how high I’ve raised the tolerance threshold for abusing my body. It’s a special kind of discipline.

But back to people who aren’t me for a moment. Slice, a controversial figure in the worlds of MMA and boxing, died last week at the age of 42 due to heart failure resulting from a tumor on his liver. It’s a surprisingly early end to his life and career, but at least he’s in heaven punching angels now. Yeah, I feel I’ve pieced the jist of the Bible together pretty well over the years.

He played middle linebacker at Miami’s Palmetto High and showed the potential to play in college before Hurricane Andrew caused Palmetto High’s season to be cut short and his scholarship offers vanished. He flunked out of college at Bethune-Cookman University and was homeless for a brief time. He worked as a limo driver, strip-club bouncer and bodyguard before rising to fame through his viral street-fighting videos.

Ugh. Even for someone who lived as hard and fast as Slice did, 42 is still a depressingly young age to die. Life doesn’t even begin until 50, if the t-shirt section at Spencer Gifts is to be believed. As an athlete in your early 40s there are still so many ears left uncauliflowered, so many used mouthguards left to sell on eBay to recoup unsuccessful vanity record label losses, and at least one sad and misguided late-career comeback attempt. I was really looking forward to being let down by that in 10 years.

 

Sources: ESPN and Yell Magazine (header image)

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