On Monday, former two-division UFC champion Daniel Cormier confirmed what we already knew. After losing a GOAT vs. GOAT heavyweight title fight against Stipe Miocic last month, Cormier officially announced that he was done with MMA for good – he’s only interested in fighting for titles, and with two straight losses to Miocic, there’s nothing left for him to do.

Cormier leaves mixed martial arts behind with one of the most storied resumes in the history of the sport. He became the fourth UFC two-division champion in history when he knocked out Miocic in their first fight in 2018, and he’s the only fighter ever to win and defend the heavyweight and light heavyweight championships. His only career losses are to Miocic and Jon Jones, two fighters on the shortlist of the all-time greats.

Cormier was special. He wasn’t special in the same way as Jones, a fighter with impossible physical dimensions and an incredible natural genius for the sport. He wasn’t special in the same way as Miocic, who seems like he was created in a lab by a scientist attempting to genetically engineer the perfect MMA heavyweight. Daniel Cormier was special because he approached the sport with a deep joy and respect, which drove him to maximize every single bit of his natural physical gifts.

Those natural gifts were considerable, to be sure. Cormier is a phenomenal pure athlete who turned down a scholarship offer to play football at LSU to instead pursue a collegiate wrestling career, where he became a Division I All-American before launching one of the most successful MMA careers we’ve ever seen.

But for years, Cormier’s life and career had always carried hints of tragedy and what-might-have-been. Cormier lost his father to a shooting at age seven and lost his daughter in a car accident in 2003. He never won an NCAA championship, running into perhaps the greatest collegiate wrestler of all time, the undefeated Cael Sanderson, in the finals in 2001. He finished one match away from winning an Olympic medal in 2004, and missed his chance to captain the American team in 2008 after suffering kidney failure attempting to cut weight.

He became one of the best pound-for-pound fighters in the world in the UFC, but could never get over that hump named Jon Jones, who beat him twice in fights tainted by failed drug tests from the champion. It wasn’t until Cormier knocked out Miocic in 2018 that you got a feeling of true, unmitigated triumph to completely justify his status as one of the all-time legends. Daniel Cormier had always deserved it. It was incredibly gratifying to see it finally happen.

When I think about Cormier as a fighter, I’ve always drawn the comparison to the great Fedor Emelianenko, who for many years reigned as the more-or-less undisputed greatest fighter in history, and is still considered by many as the best heavyweight ever. Neither were particularly physically imposing – they were short for heavyweights and a bit soft in the midsection, which might have led you to underestimate them if you didn’t know where you were. But that relatively unimpressive physical appearance belied a terrific athleticism, explosiveness and an almost-unmatched all-around skill.

Fedor was a remarkably complete fighter. When he was at his best, you struggled to conceive of a way that he could be beaten. He outstruck the best strikers and submitted the best grapplers. But he and Cormier had similar backgrounds as world-class grapplers – Fedor as a sambo competitor, Cormier as an Olympic wrestler – who used that as their base and developed extremely sharp and powerful boxing to go along with it. Their strength and ground-and-pound were forces to be reckoned with. When Fedor or Cormier wanted to put you on your back, that’s where you ended up, and you’re probably getting punched in the head.

It’s not a perfect comparison. Cormier’s wrestling was a little more overpowering, Fedor’s submission game a bit deadlier. But both fighters were pudgy guys who, at their best, had an indomitable quality about them. Fedor could get suplexed on his head by Kevin Randleman and not be fazed – Cormier could wade through a sea of punches and turn your lights out. When you’re looking for a hero, you’re probably looking for someone with a truly exceptional heart. Daniel Cormier had that in spades.

MMA will be a lesser place without Daniel Cormier in the cage. We’re now down one awe-inspiringly good fighter who almost always put on fun and entertaining scraps. Those don’t grow on trees, you know. But if there’s any consolation, perhaps this means we get more of DC on commentary for the UFC. Cormier is one of my favorite color commentators in the sport – he really seems to have a pure joy and enthusiasm for mixed martial arts, and it always comes through in the way he analyzes and calls the sport.

After all, this sport tends to be cruel, stupid and venal. It needs more men like Daniel Cormier, who remind us why we love it. We may not see Daniel Cormier fight again, but I hope we see plenty more of him in the years to come.