Conor McGregor's rise to fame was a real rags-to-riches story, like something straight out of a Hollywood movie.

A brash, dole-drawing, trash-talking Dubliner who could not only sell a fight with his mouth but end it with his fists, McGregor became a global sensation, a crossover star who transcended the sport of mixed martial arts and became an icon.

It was the kind of mishap that might make you wonder if the universe itself is tired of McGregor's antics, eager to usher him offstage before the final curtain falls.

But like so many who rise too fast, McGregor’s fall has been equally dramatic — and far more tragic.

McGregor vs. McGregor

These days, the partying pugilist's biggest opponent is himself. He’s become a living, breathing cautionary tale, a man who’s gone from conquering the octagon to conquering new lows in public embarrassment.

When not drunkenly riding what appears to be an emu in public, McGregor can be found giving interviews that leave one wondering if he’s forgotten how to string a sentence together, much less throw a punch.

His erratic behavior doesn’t stop there. The man known as "Notorious" has become notorious for assaulting senior citizens in bars. His boozy escapades have become the stuff of tabloid fodder. Instead of dominating the sports headlines, he's made a habit of going viral — for all the wrong reasons.

Full of it

It’s a far cry from the hungry, disciplined athlete who once held two UFC titles simultaneously. Today, instead of focusing on training, McGregor seems more interested in flogging his questionable whiskey brand and overpriced clothing line.

His social media is a constant stream of rambling tweets, self-aggrandizing posts, and desperate attempts to stay relevant in a world that’s quickly moving on without him.

At 36, McGregor’s best days are undeniably behind him. The fighter who once set the UFC ablaze with his quick wit and even quicker fists now seems like a relic of a bygone era. And while he continues to talk about making a comeback, the reality is that the sport has evolved, and McGregor, for all his bluster, has not.

Chances are, he’ll never step back into the octagon again. And if he does, McGregor will likely be humbled in a way he’s never experienced before. In truth, a strong dose of humility is exactly what the Dubliner, high on hubris, needs.

A familiar fall

It would be all too easy to compare McGregor's downfall to that of Icarus — a figure who flew too close to the sun, only to come crashing down. But Icarus, at least, had the excuse of youthful naiveté.

A better comparison might be found in the life of Sam Kinison, a comedian who once dominated the stage with a voice that could shatter glass and a humor that could peel paint.

Like McGregor, Kinison was at the top of his game — until he wasn't. Years of excess in alcohol and drug abuse took its toll, and the man who once had everything found himself stumbling, lost in the fog of his own making.

McGregor’s descent has followed a similarly tragic arc, with a cocktail of an inflated sense of ego and a lack of discipline pushing him ever closer to the edge.

Down for the count?

Following a devastating leg injury at UFC 264, way back in 2021, McGregor was set to make his much-anticipated return to the octagon at UFC 303 earlier this year. The loudmouth was scheduled to face Michael Chandler, a consummate professional who maintains a monk-like commitment to training and living a proper lifestyle.

For a brief second, it seemed like a fight that could recapture some of the old McGregor magic. Both fighters share a strong rivalry and a storied history, having previously coached opposing teams on the UFC's reality show, "The Ultimate Fighter."

This match was expected to be the year's biggest UFC event, reminiscent of the days when McGregor was a legitimate box-office draw.

But fate, or perhaps karma, had other plans. Just weeks before the fight, McGregor suffered a toe injury — an injury that, while minor by most standards, was enough to sideline him once more. It was the kind of mishap that might make you wonder if the universe itself is tired of McGregor's antics, eager to usher him offstage before the final curtain falls.

Dana White, ever the promoter, confirmed that while McGregor is still eager to fight, it won't be happening this year. This announcement, coming with the sort of quiet resignation usually reserved for delivering bad news to an unruly child, was met with McGregor’s predictably bombastic response on social media.

No punches pulled

He expressed his desire to compete in December, like someone who hasn’t yet realized the party ended hours ago and everyone’s gone home. UFC legends quickly weighed in, including Chandler, who dismissed McGregor’s comeback with the kind of brutal honesty only a fellow fighter can muster.

The message was clear: Forget it. You’re done.

Chandler is right. The sport is moving on. Some could argue that it has already moved on. Even in Ireland, my homeland, where McGregor was once hailed as a national hero, he’s now seen as a fading star — previously celebrated, now pitied.

The man who once made his country so damn proud is now an incoherent mess, stumbling through life like the punch-drunk caricature he’s become. So as McGregor eyes a 2024 return, the question isn’t whether he’ll fight again. It’s whether anyone will care if he does.