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Wednesday’s MMA Question of the Day was a big one. A weighty one, tunneling to the very heart of the sport.

Did Nick Diaz or did Nick Diaz not catch his plane to Las Vegas?

The community first became aware of the crisis after an official UFC fight-week video strongly indicated that a certain aircraft had departed a certain airport without a certain ticketed passenger on board, name of Diaz.

Set your beard-stroking to puree. Plenty of people claimed that not only were the Diaz wheels in fact down in Vegas, but the UFC knew it. The conspiracy theory typewrote itself, and the leaflets quickly dispersed on the desert wind after Diaz no-showed Wednesday's open workouts.

Cesar Gracie once told me he had to buy Nick a new ticket when he got off a plane to eat a burrito on a layover and didn't get back on. So. — Ben Fowlkes (@benfowlkesMMA) January 28, 2015

Since it's well known that Nick Diaz is in Las Vegas and has been for days, pay attention to which media outlets play along with UFC games — Jonathan Snowden (@mmaencyclopedia) January 28, 2015

Strong voices emerged on both sides. Was it a ploy to sell wolf tickets? The latest wacky caper for a notorious capering artist? Sound and fury signifying nothing? We may never know. (Update: He eventually made his entrance on Wednesday.)

But I do know one thing: This is the sort of thing that only happens to the Manny Ramirez of the Manny Ramirez of sports.

Wait, sorry, two things.

When he's on his own, Diaz keeps anything with a writing implement at Lynchian lengths. And yet, when he allows himself to speak freely, it's a real thing to witness. Confused. Confusing. Obtuse. Funny. Halting. Despondent. Insightful. Angry. Maybe "remarkable" is most apt.

But understanding Diaz through his soundbites is like understanding a cow through a hamburger. And that brings me to the second thing I know: Nick Diaz is a weirdo. We don't know him too well, but we know enough to know that he is one odd duck. That, not the slurs or the blunts or the smack or the gogos, is what makes people like him.

And it's why Diaz simply has to beat Anderson Silva this Saturday at UFC 183 out there in Las Vegas. The weirdos need a W, and Diaz is the man to deliver.

Is Diaz the favorite against Silva? Of course not. Not against Silva, who in an absolute worst case is the third-best fighter in the sport's history. But before you lay your allegiances down, consider all the variables these fighters present and how many of them will remain mysterious until very early Sunday morning.

Silva (33-6) told reporters last week that he was done talking about the horrific broken leg he sustained in the final days of 2013. But that doesn’t mean the leg is done being a problem, or that there aren't residual issues between his ears.

And even if the leg thing really is behind him, Silva's still a 39-year-old man re-entering live combat after 13 months away. Familiar strengths (muay thai) could be weakened, new skills (heavy clinch work) discovered and old skills (taunting) rejuvenated. Regardless of the components of his approach, if Silva does what he wants, the attack will be cold fury, then hot fury, then cold fury again. And then it will be over.

But not so fast. Fury doesn't seem so scary to Nick Diaz. It will take a lot for the prickly pride of Stockton, California, to surrender; he hasn't been knocked out in seven years and has never tapped out. He's not the kind of guy you intimidate. And who between those two guys do you think would thrive better in chaos? Frankly, I don't see either man as excessively impulsive, but the answer has to be Diaz.

Diaz may have the same advantage Saturday that a new pitcher has the first time through a batting lineup. Up until now, he has preferred a professional life that took place at welterweight. But he walks around at about 200 pounds. So it's entirely possible that this, his first UFC fight at middleweight, could be an upgrade. So take that, then fold in an eight-year youth advantage and cardiovascular stamina honed by the gentlemanly weekend pursuits of triathlons and California mountain biking, and it's perfectly feasible he'll be in better shape despite the extra baggage. (He himself seems to suspect that to be the case.)

What won't be different, in all likelihood, is the style Diaz uses to attack. That's pretty set. And those aggressive, tumbling punch combinations he prefers on the feet would seem to constitute a luscious meat popsicle to the predatory muay thai and counterstriking of Silva.

But you know what? Maybe not. Maybe Diaz can stalk him back to the fence and rip off a few hooks to the body. How might that suit the old man?

If that doesn't work, Diaz has other weapons he could call upon if need be. He won't be at the strength disadvantage he was against Georges St-Pierre, which might free him up to employ his formidable guard if he finds himself on his back. (His armbars are especially dangerous.) Don't forget Diaz has eight pro wins by submission and is still one of the few fighters to tap an opponent with a gogoplata. (The win, over Takanori Gomi, was later overturned after Diaz popped for weed, but whatever, suits.)

Even Mr. Spinning Ish himself, Carlos Condit, one of the most aggressive fighters in the UFC, used an uncharacteristically, if you like, evasive game plan to foil the charging Diaz. Condit took the decision but also took some heat from Diaz, who growled afterward that the offensive output was not all that had been promised him.

And yeah, Georges St-Pierre outclassed him. No question about that. GSP pinned him to the ground for much of the match and snapped a jab into Diaz's face during the short stretches when he deigned to stand with Diaz for a bit of fun. St-Pierre even landed a Superman punch!

Anyway, Diaz lost. But you know what? He's in pretty good company on that one. The more career-affecting twist for Diaz occurred after the GSP fight, when it came out that he had failed another test for weed metabolites. That spurred a yearlong suspension, which in turn spurred a semi-self-imposed 22-month semiretirement. See what I'm saying? Weirdo.

Was he ever coming back? Who knew? During this period, Diaz, whether he meant to or not, kept people interested, every so often peeping his head out of nowhere like a spring-loaded midway villain, with his metaphorical "Don't Be Scared!"s bringing wild reactions each time.

He wanted the big fights and/or the big money, he said. Otherwise, he was comfortable out of the limelight, or so he said. How about St-Pierre again, Diaz helpfully suggested? Or, you know, Anderson Silva? Energy-drink spit takes all around.

Luckily during this exile, Diaz found some ways to stay busy. There was running and triathloning, for example. He even somehow some way started his very own promotion, War MMA. War MMA staged precisely one event, and actually didn't look half bad in the effort. A very Diazsian effort all the way around. War MMA 2 coming soon!

On a more sober note, Diaz also presumably—hopefully, for him—finally put his financial house in order. Seems it was pretty ramshackle, at least if his rambling post-fight confession in the wake of his GSP fight, in which he admitted to not paying taxes, was accurate. Oh dear.

So fast-forward a ways, and here comes Silva back from his leg break. He needed an opponent. Someone with a big name, but not too, you know, opponenty. Open the check book and get Stockton on the phone. Finally the planets had aligned, and the UFC had bait toothsome enough to lure the sport's No. 1 weirdo back into the Octagon. It culminates this Saturday.

The better fighter is Silva, but the star is Diaz. And he's not just another media-baiting brat or brilliant jerk. Far from it. The guy has a way of behaving that perfectly mirrors his way in the cage. It's as lovable as it is scary, clearest when it mumbles the most. The light doesn't bend when it runs through him, no matter the angle of the viewer.

If you think of Diaz as some kind of weed-smoking goofball, fooling around with nunchucks in his bedroom, well, fine. I can't tell you you're wrong. But if you think that’s his sum total, man, please. He gets more done in a morning than you do in a week.

The smart money might be on Silva. But when has smart money—or smart, or money—ever gravitated to Nick Diaz, except in these occasional bursts of brilliance that seem to take everyone, himself included, by surprise, but are powerful enough to sustain everyone for months?

It’s impossible to know what will happen Saturday night. There is too much age, too much time off, too many mental and physical questions involved. As awesome as Silva is, is anyone super excited to see him win? How much would that move the needle, as people like to say. Would Silva's post-fight interview light up social media, set Vine accounts a-blazing?

The plateau-ing UFC could use a nice little something viral. A Silva win probably won't give it to them. You need something unexpected. You need something weird.

It will be a strange spectacle on Saturday night, no matter the outcome. And that's just Nick Diaz's game. It's the reason we're all going to the party.

Get the job done, Nick. This is what you were born to do. Sincerely, your fellow weirdo, Scott.



Scott Harris writes about MMA for Bleacher Report. For more stuff like this, follow Scott on Twitter.