Whatever he took on in the world of sports, he did so with the belief, and enthusiasm, that he was going to win.

When he was 14, and already becoming a standout in baseball around Oak Grove, Brent called to say he had taken his first boxing lesson and was going to be the state champ.

Whoa, he was told. Wouldn’t it be better to focus on baseball ? Brent had the natural talent to play at one of the better mid-level colleges if he worked at it.

His uncle, yours truly, bought him his first baseball glove and thought that was going to be his best sport. Later, Brent did the same for his nephew Jeff — not sure what Brent bought his niece Skylar, but you can bet he bought her something because of his generous nature.

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Admittedly, he was one of those gifted athletes who skied the first time he tried, then slalom-skied the first time he tried and scored a touchdown the first time he touched a football.

Football was his favorite sport to watch — he was a huge Razorbacks fan — but not play. Brent had pretty much devoted his time to baseball, and so the entire Fisher family — Sue, Frank and Tammy Fisher — lived weekends at ballparks, or on the lake.

Until that boxing lesson. The good news was Brent would be under the tutelage of Ray Rodgers, one of the most respected figures in amateur boxing, and that was one thing that was reassuring for an overprotective family. Ray was not going to let Brent get hurt.

Just four months later, the skinny, undersized kid showed unbelievable power in his punches, and he won the state championship in his weight class.

“If he had stuck with boxing, just boxing, he had a chance to be something very special,” Rodgers once told me.

Like most young men, Brent eventually became more interested in his social life than doing sit-ups and hitting the punching bag — or people.

He gave up baseball after high school, but he never lost his passion for boxing.

He became a participant in Tough Man competitions, which brought him onto a morning radio show that I used to be on three years ago.

He was introduced as Brent “Pimp Daddy” Fisher, bringing an immediate objection from his uncle.

As usual, everyone laughed at my prudeness, but Brent quietly dropped that nickname because, “When my girls get old enough to understand, I don’t want someone calling me that in front of them.”

“Bubba Brent” became his ring name; his cousins Sara and Carrie Pozza and Whitney Hall had called him that their entire lives.

Brent was the runner-up in 2002 and 2004 state Tough Man competitions. But in 2005, while juggling school, bartending at night and being a father and husband, he trained as hard as he ever had. He won the lightweight title and advanced to the World Championships in Connecticut, where he made it to the semifinal.

He vowed to return, but he was determined to finish college, something his brother-in-law Loren Hatfield especially encouraged.

Brent had some personal struggles and was divorced a couple of years ago, but lately, he seemed to be rallying as he was working two jobs and talking about getting back into college.

He even mentioned a return to the Tough Man fights.

Last Saturday, for the second Arkansas game in a row, I got a heart-breaking call, this one from my sister Lola.

Brent, who was temporarily staying with his parents, had been suffering from the flu. He was resting at their home in hopes of being able to work that night, but when his mom checked on him, he was feverish. She suggested he stay home.

Not more than an hour later, she checked again and he was barely breathing. CPR worked but only temporarily.

A young man who just last year stood up in church and professed his faith, who was fighting to get his ship on course, was gone, and again we are reminded that success on the field or in the ring does not equate to what we do in life.

All who really knew Brent Fisher, a tough man in the ring and a sentimental family man out of it, will miss him deeply.