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The Event That Never Was, was three years ago today.

In August 2012, Jon Jones turned down a UFC 151 short-order fight with Chael Sonnen after Dan Henderson pulled out at the last minute with an injury, and everyone went crazy. UFC President Dana White, the face of the company, used words like "selfish," "disgusted" and "murdered" in the UFC's official press release to describe the actions of the most talented athlete on his roster—perhaps of any roster the fight world has ever seen.

Ronda Rousey may get the headlines and the A-list inclusion, and Conor McGregor may be Dana White's bestie, but it was Jones who had elevated the actual physical game with a level of domination never quite witnessed—a mix of improvisation, syncopation and technical mastery that made him the closest thing fight sports has seen to a jazz master.

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In that way, he was difficult to define. What was so great about him? What was his defining quality? He didn't have knockout power, wasn't a master grappler and, despite his brothers' gridiron exploits, wasn't conventionally athletic. Instead, it was the blend, the grand sum of everything, that made him what we was.

He was long and wiry, punishing and durable, creative and smart. Things that work together in a natural but rare kind of symbiosis.

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It seems strange to think of Jones as a "was," a past tense, but for all intents and purposes, he has essentially disappeared. This was mostly a circumstance of his own doing, based upon behavior of his own making. But it's been eight months since we've seen him in the Octagon and six months since we've heard from him in any meaningful way, with no end in sight.

Jones' April hit-and-run case remains under review, according to a spokesperson for the district attorney's office, with no decision made on when or even if it will go before a grand jury.

Until then, he remains under UFC suspension, gone and mostly forgotten.

Do you miss him? Do you think differently about him now?

I wonder about this because his absence naturally took me back to that time three years ago when he voluntarily went missing from an event he was scheduled to headline. Jones was roundly vilified for declining a take-it-or-leave-it, now-or-never, no-pressure (hint: total pressure) offer to fight Sonnen, and White's scathing remarks did little to help the then-champion in the eyes of fans for making what in reality was a perfectly rational decision.

In those moments after his answer was reported, few would admit they would ever miss him. It was more like, You don't want us? Then we don't want you. It was a reaction of emotion rather than reason.

Even his fellow fighters got in on the act of giving him the thumbs down or the middle finger up. That was how the world felt, and they let him know it. Remember how loudly he was booed at the UFC 152 weigh-ins and the event itself? That was a lot of anger spewed in one man's direction for exercising one of the few rights he had: saying no.

Which leads me to the present. At the time the champion...err, ex-champion...um, how about the champion-at-large? At any rate, back then, Jones was an island. I mean, White went so far as to throw the welfare of the rest of the roster onto the raging inferno, saying: "Sure, Jon Jones is rich, what does he care if he cancels the fight? But 20 other fighters on the card added up to almost a half a million dollars in purse money that Jones and Greg Jackson's decision stole from them."

Oh, so, one for all and all for one? Is that what he meant there? Like a union?

Funny thing about that: Over the last several months, since around the time a group of fighters filed a class-action antitrust lawsuit against UFC parent company Zuffa LLC, many active athletes have started to speak up about problematic work conditions including sponsorship money, pay and contract issues.

Currently, the court of public opinion seems to have swung in the direction of the plaintiffs. But three years ago, Jones was lambasted for exercising his right to decline a fight. The same Dana White has on several occasions noted that he can't force someone to fight.

Well, what kind of message was he sending his fighters by trashing his then-champion for declining?

The same kind of message he sent more recently by suspending Jones. Remember, fighters have no power to appeal these suspensions. They have no power to object when the promoter decides they are no longer worthy of holding the belt, for whatever reason. This is not to suggest Jones should not face consequences for whatever criminal actions he might have committed, but the fact he had no rights in the process is a fundamental part of a problem that is coming home to roost.

Over time, the fighters have given or signed away the rights to many things, including their own likenesses and the ability to generate in-cage sponsorship income. The UFC’s new anti-doping measures also force them to give up some freedom, requiring them to disclose their whereabouts at all times.

If you turn down a late-notice fight, you get thrown under the bus. And you can’t wear your sponsors to fight week. And your belt can be rendered meaningless in a snap.

And, wow, that is a lot of concessions when you stop and think about it, right? All of that brings us back to Jones, and Sept. 1, 2012, and The Event That Never Was.

In that moment, a fighter was simply standing up for his most basic right—the right to say no. The dynamic between athletes and promoters will always be fraught with tension, but tension can be good. It’s what helps balance the lines that help to hold things up. But tension must be supported at both ends, and while Zuffa yanked its end of the rope, Jones' colleagues forced him to play a game of tug-of-war alone.

He was slammed when he should have been supported.

His current absence is hardly the same kind of circumstance, but as he waits on the sidelines, his belt a memory, his colleagues should know that when they let him stand alone, they let the UFC win another battle in the war of concessions. Little by little, the UFC took and took, until we got to where we are today.

Even if you're not into reliving the past or excusing his behavioral issues, we have to admit what is now obvious: His presence in a cage is always missed, and that three years ago today, his absence wasn't even close to a bad thing.