Jon Jones is an all-time great, but is his return to the Octagon about preserving his legacy or building on it?

Jon Jones was 23 years old on the morning of March 19, 2011. That night, in Newark, New Jersey, he would fight for the UFC light heavyweight title — an eye-popping young talent about to be thrust, ready or not, into the deep waters of combat sports against the legendary Maurício “Shogun” Rua.

Jones and his team went to a local park to get some fresh air and do some prefight meditation. That’s when they witnessed a woman getting her car broken into. A mugger snatched some items and took off.

Jones, being Jones, went after him, a 6-foot-4 world-class athlete chasing some unsuspecting smash-and-grab clown down the block before tackling and then subduing him until the cops arrived.

A few hours later, Jones became the UFC’s youngest champion ever by overwhelming Rua, the start of a reign of dominance from 2011-15 that the sport had never seen before or since. It wasn’t just that he won, it was how he won.

“A man against boys,” Joe Rogan said while calling the victory over Rua. “This is just the story of every Jon Jones fight.”

He was on his way to becoming the Michael Jordan of mixed martial arts. Or, at least, he should have been.

The charisma. The smile. The style. The creative violence. The size and speed and length and unprecedented athleticism. He had two Super Bowl-winning brothers (Arthur with Baltimore and Chandler with New England), and a skillset that made him unbeatable. He was the total package.

Nike gave him a signature shoe; Gatorade an endorsement deal. He was on the verge of becoming a breakout, mainstream star.

It was all there. Until it wasn’t.

Jones is scheduled to return for UFC 309 Saturday to take on Stipe Miocic. We say scheduled, because you never know. Self-sabotage is always possible. Jones, now 37, has fought just once since 2020 and a mere six times since 2016.

As much as seeing his name on the marquee brings nostalgia and excitement, it is also about wistful disappointment of what should have been and what may never again occur, even if it could.

Jones’ career is one of starts and stops; incidents and arrests. There’s been failed drug tests and wild controversies. Substance abuse. Broken promises. Depression. Indignation. Injury.

His UFC Hall of Fame induction was marred by a domestic abuse allegation. He was once accused of assaulting a woman from Drug Free Sport while she tried to administer a test. He admits to a hit and run in a car accident involving a pregnant woman and pled no contest to once choking a cocktail waitress.

One thing, then another. Ugly, then uglier.

Even the Miocic return is cloaked in a measure of disappointment. This would have been a hell of a fight half a decade or so ago. Miocic is 42 now though, an Ohio firefighter who hasn’t competed since getting knocked out in 2021. Is this all Jones’ final act is going to be?

It feels like a bit of a sideshow, little more than a chance for Jones to strike another former great off his list. He spoke this week of seeking, if he dispatches Miocic, handpicked “super fights.”

“I want to fight for fun,” Jones said this week. “I’ve had a big chip on my shoulder my whole career. I’ve had to defend, defend and defend.”

Earlier on a social media post he noted: “My journey isn’t dictated by hype or outside opinions — it’s about crafting a legacy that speaks for itself, one step at a time.”

Fair enough. It’s his career and his choice. He owes no one anything, including his own fan base. It’s just that since Jones is nearly as famous for his personal breakdowns as his professional brilliance, there is a sense of fragility here, that time isn’t on his side. Can the public be patient and believe he’ll string together three or five or even seven more fights and handle everything and everyone?

Can he remain clean and focused? We’ll see. That’s up to Jones.

He remains atop almost any legitimate list of all-time greats, but you wonder if preserving that status is more important than continuing to prove it.

Rising up during Jones’ latest absence is Tom Aspinall, a 6-foot-5, 31-year-old Englishman. Aspinall is officially the UFC interim heavyweight champ and he has enough finishing skills to make things interesting, which isn’t often the case when it comes to Bones Jones.

Jones is 27-1 with one no contest, but he’s never truly been defeated. The loss was a controversial illegal elbow disqualification. The no contest was the result of a steroid showing up in a post-fight drug test.

Yet rather than take on Aspinall, as the fans want, we get Miocic. And rather than say he’ll get to the younger fighter after he cleans out the older one, Jones is claiming Aspinall isn’t worthy of his attention.

So you have the GOAT getting called a duck.

“I feel like Tom’s been such an [expletive] that I don’t want to do business with him," Jones said. “At the end of the day, this is a business. And fighting me gives him the opportunity to change his life forever, and I don’t even want to give him the opportunity. He just played his cards wrong with me personally.”

Jones has promised to rebuild his life a million times. For his sake, and his family’s sake, hopefully this is the one that sticks. He’s been a thrill to watch. He’s also been sad to see. He could have had everything, now fans cling to the idea of getting anything.

A great fighter. A bad guy. An enigma. A memory. A cautionary tale.

It didn’t have to be this way. It doesn’t have to be this way.

Can the superhero who caught muggers by day and championship belts by night return? Does he even want to?