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Zuffa brings its beloved big top to Atlanta on Saturday night for UFC 88. As good hosts, Dana White & Co. are putting their best foot forward in Georgia with an end-to-end burner of a fight card, suitably topped off with MMA's foremost rockstar, Chuck Liddell.

In a main event some five months in the making, Liddell, now with full hamstring capabilities, meets the undefeated Rashad Evans. For the 38-year-old Liddell, the fight is a must-win to secure a December mega-fight with UFC light heavyweight champion Forrest Griffin and to have one last crack at solidifying his résumé as the sport's greatest light heavyweight.

On the cusp of boom-or-bust for MMA's favorite San Luis Obispan, here are eight of the finest episodes from The Iceman. And in the interest of class, only one reference to "Good Morning Texas."

While he impressed in his recent 185-pound debut against Terry Martin, the MMA world has learned to temper its enthusiasm when it comes to Belfort after approximately 42 career resuscitations.

Six years ago, we were in the middle of the first Belfort rehabilitation tour. After embarrassing and deflating losses to Randy Couture and Kazushi Sakuraba, Belfort had seemingly matured in the fight game and was still only 25 years old. It was supposed to be his time (for real, this time), and he was thus slated to meet light heavyweight kingpin Tito Ortiz at both UFC 33 and 36 before injuries nixed the respective bouts. In the meantime, Liddell had quietly piled up victories of his own, and as Ortiz began to embrace his poster-boy persona and shirk in-cage duties, it left a Liddell-Belfort title eliminator as the obvious solution.

Aided by Fox Sports Net and "The Best Damn Sports Show Period," which aired the fight three days later, the bout was the most cautious of the ad-hoc promotional vehicle known as UFC 37.5, which largely featured Octagon neophytes. However, the fight did showcase the technical and tactical side of Liddell, who put his now famous cage-crawl takedown defense on display vividly in the first round.

Even if the most memorable moment of the affair was the wild, winging right hook that sent Belfort to the canvas with 90 seconds to go, Liddell's ability to take over the fight was dictated by an acute sense of distance created with low kicks and straight punches. Not epic fight material to be sure, but a major win in Liddell's career that highlighted the finer technical points of his game rather than the sizzling KO power he's become acclaimed for.

You would be hard-pressed to find a seasoned MMA fan who would admit to having taken Horn against Liddell. Amidst Horn's current spell of disinterested doldrums and with hindsight being so crystal clear, such a prefight prognostication would seem farfetched. However, a considerable contingent in MMA, even if they will lie about it now, thought that Horn could pose serious problems for the newly minted champ.

Much of the live-underdog hype was arguably generated by kneejerk anti-Zuffaism that had propelled Horn to indie-hero status after being cut from the UFC following his Elvis Sinosic debacle -- the same sentiment that saw Sean Sherk, Ivan Salaverry and Matt Lindland all gain acclaim and adoration only after being booted from the promotion.

In spite of Liddell's title triumph over Randy Couture only four months earlier, some fans and pundits had begun to pigeonhole The Iceman as a willfully one-dimensional fighter. Many figured that the submission-slick Horn, who had never been knocked out, had the skills to outlast and outwit Liddell on the mat as he had in their first encounter six years earlier.

Instead, Horn was bruised and abused over a woefully lopsided opening 10 minutes that featured two nasty near-finishes. Liddell's major weapons early in the fight were actually straight (at least by his standards) punches from inside the pocket rather than long-range, looping artillery. More impressive still, in the wake of Dana White's infamous "following the game plan" rant that has become a full-scale MMA meme, Liddell showed sober strategy in fighting a conservative third round, only to come out firing in the fourth and halt Horn, who told referee "Big" John McCarthy he could no longer see.

Liddell's one-sided avenging of his first loss was an early indicator of his title reign ahead, even if those who had backed Horn will never admit it.

Much of Liddell's ability to transcend the sport itself and become a pop culture icon can be traced to his physical packaging. The distinctive Mohawk and mustache combo, the head tattoo and the killer stare all richly contribute to a seemingly violent veneer that is the exact example of how the public would expect an MMA ambassador to look.

Beyond the world of posters and promotion, however, Liddell has secured his stature in the sport by embodying the nonsuperficial essence of prizefighting with an anyone-anywhere-anytime mantra -- an attitude exemplified by his first bout with Renato Sobral.

Already installed as the UFC's top 205-pound contender to then-incumbent king Tito Ortiz, Liddell voluntarily chose to take on the ever-tough and well-traveled Babalu rather than rest on his laurels and wait for the elusive Ortiz. The fight was more a favor to Liddell from Zuffa than vice versa, and although he was a rightful favorite, a Liddell loss on the main card of the biggest event the promotion had staged to that point would've been relatively disastrous.

Just inside the three-minute mark of the first round, Liddell thwarted Sobral's attempt to play spoiler, putting his left shin across the Brazilian's mug in brutal fashion. While he would replicate his victory over Sobral in their August 2006 rematch in a mere 95 seconds, Liddell's display of his down-for-whatever disposition and a highlight reel KO he'll be reaping royalties from forever make their first encounter the more memorable.

It seems like eons and epochs ago that a prized Zuffa fighter could have jumped on a plane and scrapped in Japan for another company. Crazier still, when Liddell halted former UFC heavyweight champion Kevin Randleman in 78 seconds on May 4, 2001, he had scored the biggest win of his career. Just 23 days later, he met Guy Mezger in Yokohama and usurped that win.

A battle of two top-10 light heavyweights at the time, Pride parent company Dream Stage Entertainment officially announced the bout less than two weeks beforehand in true DSE style. While Liddell looked to play predator early, stalking Mezger around the ring and attacking with right-handed haymakers, Mezger's experience was on display as he soundly outstruck Liddell with crisp counters. With the opening 10 minutes winding down, Mezger even gave Liddell a taste of his own medicine, putting him on the mat momentarily with a rainbow right hand.

Despite Mezger getting the better of Liddell and seemingly having a handle on things, Liddell turned in his most brutal bit of handiwork early in the second round. Pushing Mezger back to the ropes, Liddell began firing wildly with punches, and when Mezger attempted to return fire, Liddell let loose with a whipping right hand that melted Mezger on the spot.

The brutal bird's-eye view of the aftermath crystallized the vicious KO as one of MMA's pantheon-level finishes, revealing a motionless Mezger with his left leg pinned precariously beneath him and his right arm slung over his chest as if he'd been laid to eternal rest in the middle of Yokohama Arena.

Liddell is known as one of the sport's most brutal hitters, and none have been more brutal than his one-hitter-quitter of Guy Mezger.

Chuck Liddell's rematch with Tito Ortiz was not his greatest triumph. It was not a bout that transformed MMA fans into stark-raving lunatics with excitement the way Fedor Emelianenko vs. Mirko "Cro Cop" Filipovic did. It didn't produce anything significant for the Liddell highlight reel. What it did produce, though, was a mega-marketable matchup that made for a media and monetary breakthrough for MMA.

There was little reason to believe Ortiz-Liddell II would end any differently than their first fight. However, it didn't stop all major media outlets from turning UFC 66 into a major sporting spectacle, including ESPN, which two years earlier would have seemed like an insane pipe dream for MMA.

In the end, UFC 66 took in a gate just under $5.4 million and a whopping estimate of 1.05 million pay-per-view buys, making it by far the most lucrative North American MMA event to date. As for the fight, while Ortiz did better than most expected, Liddell retained his title with a third-round stoppage due to strikes (and with a torn MCL, no less).

The profile of the bout also launched Liddell's pop culture crossover, leading to appearances on Letterman, Leno and "Entourage," and giving us his infamous appearance on "Good Morning Texas."

For the purposes of this list, magnitude triumphs the monetary, and few fights in the sport's history have produced the anticipation of the first clash between Liddell and Ortiz.

The back story is familiar lore to MMA fans at this point. Once upon a time, Ortiz and Liddell went away to fight camp together, and depending on whom you believe, they either stayed up all night telling ghost stories, pricked each other's fingers to become blood brothers and swore to never fight, or Liddell beat up Ortiz, kicked sand in his eyes and made him cry every day.

Whichever story you believe is up to you, but regardless, with Randy Couture rekindling his rivalry with Vitor Belfort and both Ortiz and Liddell returning after losses to "The Natural," the timing was perfect for two of the sport's most storied 205-pounders to square off.

While the majority of the first round produced little action, the sheer tension between the two was enough to carry it until the last five seconds of the round, when Liddell landed a volley of strikes that ignited the crowd at Mandalay Bay and caused Ortiz to taunt Liddell in defiance.

However, carrying over into the second round, the excitement had no chance to build to a crescendo. Instead it combusted quickly when Liddell forced Ortiz to retreat to the fence (or poked him in the eye, depending again on which version of the truth you prefer), and let loose with a furious chain-gun flurry of punches that put Ortiz down and out.

Liddell's triumph over Ortiz isn't the fight that made him a champion, but it is the bout that turned him into a bonafide star.

From the moment he first set foot in Japan, where Wanderlei Silva made his combative home in Pride, Liddell told anyone who would listen that he wanted to fight the Brazilian.

More than any matchup in MMA history, Silva-Liddell morphed astonishingly over its chaotic six-and-a-half-year buildup. As Silva began his destructive reign as Pride's light heavyweight kingpin, many believed he was the alpha dog -- an opinion strengthened in November 2003, when Liddell was brutally bashed by Quinton "Rampage" Jackson in Pride's 205-pound grand prix. When Liddell finally struck gold in the UFC, though, and tore off seven straight knockouts, Silva's struggles with Brazilian rival Ricardo Arona and his brutal demolition at the hands of Mirko "Cro Cop" Filipovic led most to think Liddell would be the victor if the most mythic of MMA fantasy matchups ever actually happened.

If Silva's February 2007 crushing KO loss to Dan Henderson didn't kill all hope of the 205-pound pie in the sky, Liddell losing his UFC title to Quinton Jackson three months later, and subsequent lackluster loss to Keith Jardine, did. Yet, with Pride buried by Zuffa and Silva under UFC contract as 2007 drew to a close, the fighters' recent failings only made the stakes higher with a back-against-the-wall, absolute must-win scenario for the sport's two greatest light heavyweights.

After a buildup that lasted longer than either World War, it would've been nigh-impossible for the fight to live up to the hype. And yet, it did.

Silva-Liddell offered 15 minutes of the brand of balls-to-the-wall brawling that both have become famous for, with both men hitting the deck and a frenetic five minutes in Round 2 that has unlimited replay value. However, throughout the bout, it was Liddell who controlled the action, landing the more brutal blows that seemingly would have ended such an affair on any other night. In the end, "The Iceman" picked up a richly deserved unanimous decision. If there is one moment in MMA we can point to in order to justify holding fast to our dreams and bathing in the promotional bluster, this is it.

Anything else here would be unsuitable.

The UFC's product, and perhaps even the sport on the whole, can be divided into the pre-"Ultimate Fighter" and post-"Ultimate Fighter" eras. Ask Dana White, and he'll tell you that the hopes of Zuffa and the UFC -- and as a result, North American MMA -- were all-in on the success of "The Ultimate Fighter" series.

While we remember the inaugural TUF season most for bed urination, door breaking, fatherless bastards and asparagus (among other things), its larger design was to promote the rematch between Chuck Liddell and Randy Couture for the light heavyweight title -- the biggest fight the UFC could muster at the time.

When discussing TUF and the current climate of the sport, the 205-pound finale between Forrest Griffin and Stephan Bonnar is considered the ultimate moment -- the JFK where-were-you-when -- the moment when MMA was forced into the mind of the mainstream. It lived up to its purpose, making it possibly the best infomercial in history. However, if Griffin-Bonnar I was what fixed the public's eyes to MMA, something else would have to glue them there.

Seven days later at the MGM Grand, the Couture-Liddell rematch raked in a $2.57 million gate and an estimated 280,000 PPV buys, smashing previous North American MMA marks. While the rest of the card was crackling, Couture and Liddell's second go-around did not live up to the sustained action and drama of their first encounter of June 2003 that Couture had won. Instead, just six ticks past the two-minute mark, Liddell turned Couture's lights out with a brutal right-hand counter, culminating Liddell's seven-year odyssey to become a UFC champion.

While Liddell would duplicate his KO victory over Couture in their rubber match 10 months later, his capture of the UFC light heavyweight crown stands as his finest hour.

His first victory over Tito Ortiz made him a star and his second made him a cultural superstar, but it's his title victory over Couture that paved the road in between, marking his transition from perennial contender to champion and putting a face and a fist to the new era in MMA -- a far cry from the dream-in-the-dark the sport had when Liddell first stepped into the cage.

Jordan Breen is a contributor to Sherdog.com.