Chuck Liddell highlights Atlanta UFC 88

A new kind of fighting has spawned a new kind of baddest man on the planet.

Chuck Liddell occasionally answers to that title — and anybody in the room want to argue grammar with the man?

While no longer the light heavyweight champion of the most recognized fight club in the world, Liddell, 38, still is the face of the Ultimate Fighting Championship. His feet, however, are pure Junior League.

“I’m getting my toenails painted now,” he said, unabashed, during a phone interview last week. “It’s something I always do on fight week. Something in blue and white this time.”

Apparently, preparations for his UFC 88 feature fight Saturday at Philips Arena against Rashad Evans were running right on schedule.

Secure in his manhood with his 21-5 record and his 14 knockouts, Liddell comes to town spreading the gospel of ultimate fighting.

He’s the one with an autobiography on the shelves, his mug once on the cover of a national sports magazine and cameo appearances in multiple movies. A long history of giving better than he’s gotten has earned Liddell the right to be introduced as a legend wherever he’s gone around Atlanta this week.

“His style is what makes him so popular,” said UFC president Dana White, who managed Liddell in the late 1990s. “He’s a guy who will fight anywhere, anytime. He loves to stand up and bang. He loves to knock people out.”

Being that he’s a guest in town, it’s only polite to get to know Liddell. And how can we get to know him without learning a bit about his hybrid sport?

He was made for the edgy new brand of fighting that combines so many different styles.

Don’t let the painted toes fool you. From the first metatarsal up, Liddell is built for kicking butt. He found his calling as a young man growing up in Santa Barbara, Calif. While there are few streets in that village that could be called legitimately mean, he did have to do some survival fighting in a low-end school, he said. A grandfather taught him some of the basics of self-defense, and young Chuck began some martial-arts training at 12.

It suited him. He wrestled through college, at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo. And he took no prisoners when trouble started at the community watering hole.

“I didn’t start anything. But I never made it too easy for a guy to back away,” he said.

It is possible to find among the many cultural offerings on the World Wide Web a site that outlines Liddell’s bar-fighting tips. Foremost, he suggests simply not fighting. Talk your way out of it. But if trouble breaks out, he counsels, here’s one valuable piece of advice: There are no rules, always aim for the most vulnerable area.

If looks could hobble, then call Liddell a walking, talking bone bruise. He showed up Thursday to the pre-fight press conference shaved for battle, the unique tattoo on his scalp plainly visible. The Japanese characters inked into his head represent the brand of karate in which he is grounded.

He must have left his Save the Whales T-shirt back in California. Instead, he arrived dressed for duress in a black T with “Hostility” written in large letters across the front.

OK, that concludes the stereotyping part of the program.

The unmarried father of two also describes himself as exceedingly mellow and quiet. They call him “The Iceman” because of his cool demeanor.

Liddell owns an accounting degree, although, honestly, he hasn’t remained in touch with his inner bean counter. “I’m glad I ended up doing something else. I know enough about accounting to know I shouldn’t do my own taxes,” he said.

Cut him, he bleeds. Turn the page of the calendar, he gets older.

Liddell’s fight resume includes victories over the leading names in his sport — twice knocking out champions Randy Couture and Tito Ortiz. But he is at the age of a fighter who has seen better days, now trying to reclaim a title while fighting off another up-and-comer in the 29-year-old Evans (16-0-1).

Liddell has lost two of his past three fights and hasn’t had a KO in almost two years. That is not a pleasing development for the stand-up banger. “I’m not dissatisfied [winning by decision], I’m just not as happy,” he said. “I’d much rather win by knockout.”

Any kind of fighting does produce one common kind of fighter: the aging champion who keeps going past his prime. Liddell, for one, insists his days of nail-painting and name-taking aren’t nearly finished.

“I’m going to fight as long as my body’s working,” Liddell said. “I keep saying another two to four years. And I hope in two years I can say it’s still two to four years. I enjoy it that much. And I enjoy getting paid for it.”