Mixed martial arts fighter Pulver tries to reconcile good, ‘Evil’

He remembers the shotgun blast, of not knowing if his deranged father had pointed the weapon to the sky or his own head. Not really knowing which one to hope for, either. Maybe he wouldn’t come back. Maybe he was gone for good in a pool of sinful blood flowing across the backyard. Maybe that damn door wouldn’t open and their lives finally would be safe.

He stood there with his mother and two brothers as his father stormed inside, stood there tasting the cold, damp, slippery barrel as the old man shoved it in his mouth and threatened to pull the trigger.

The urine raced down his leg from absolute terror. He was about 7 years old.

“When he took the gun out of my mouth, he said I wasn’t worth the (expletive) bullet,” Jens Pulver says now. “I wish he would just go ahead and die.”

They make movies about this type of lunacy. Write books about it. A father in jail. A brother in jail. A sister in jail. A man who makes a living beating others in a cage while continuously struggling to destroy the kind of demons most view only as fictitious distractions on Hollywood screens.

This is where it gets tough for Pulver. Separating all the good that now touches his life from all the evil that once consumed it. Finding the capacity to beat the living snot out of someone one second and devour his little girl in a loving embrace the next.

Pulver tonight meets Cub Swanson in a World Extreme Cagefighting event at The Joint inside the Hard Rock Hotel. It’s a featherweight bout originally scheduled for Sept. 5, one called off after Pulver injured his knee following a staph infection.

It’s that point in the journey when reality officially overtakes hopefulness. Pulver is a 33-year-old former UFC lightweight champion who has lost his past two fights. The competitive end is more visible than ever for a guy who was also a coach on the Ultimate Fighter 5 reality show. He’s trying like heck to fend it off.

Everything changed when his daughter, Madeline, was born nearly five years ago. The fire inside him lessened. The rage subsided. The fury that earned him a nickname of “Li’l Evil” was transformed into a tender spirit and pledge his baby would never know a hint of the horror that defined his childhood. It just became more and more difficult finding that level of anger needed to win a fight.

“I was always able to feed off my past and all the abuse we experienced, to just beat a guy senseless without thinking about it,” Pulver said. “But then I put ‘Li’l Evil’ away when my little girl was born. I became the guy with a conscience. Please everyone. Be the best person and man and father and role model I can be.

“I’m still that way and always will be for her, but I need to find a way to bring ‘Li’l Evil’ out (tonight). He’s the one that pays the bills. Can I be that nasty guy again? Can I turn it on and off? Can I accept that for competition sake, it’s OK to beat the hell out of this guy and then shake his hand? That’s something I have to get back.”

He can’t talk about his mother without weeping, because it’s impossible for him not to break down when he thinks about all she endured. The countless beatings. The mental cruelty. Feeding her children on food stamps.

But he doesn’t stop publicly recalling the nightmare in hopes it might provide others strength. All those days riding home from school on a bus with his brothers, knowing that if his father’s car were in the driveway, they would stay away for hours. All those years growing up around racetracks in Washington state and Oregon, where Jens Pulver Sr. was an accomplished jockey and a backstretch of drugs and alcohol ruined a family’s chance at happiness.

One brother is serving 55 years to life, having fallen prey to those temptations. His sister has been locked up for months. Another brother is a successful teacher who is scheduled to be in Pulver’s corner tonight.

They each had a choice to make about which way to turn in life, whether to follow their father’s pathetic lead or a more civilized path. Jens Pulver owns a home in Iowa now and is in a committed relationship and adores and spoils his daughter the way only a father can.

He still remembers the taste, though. The cold, damp, slippery barrel his father shoved in his mouth.

“He’s a coward sitting in jail, and he knows every day what he did to our family,” Pulver said. “He can kick rocks the rest of his life. He’s a joke. I will never let the memories of him drag me down. Here I am. These are my colors. My cross to bear. Hate me. Love me. I don’t care. I’m always going to try and help people overcome their fears by telling my story.

“People need to know it can be done. I want to give them hope.”

Ed Graney’s column is published Sunday, Wednesday, Thursday and Saturday. He can be reached at 383-4618 or egraney@reviewjournal.com.