UFC light heavyweight champion Jon Jones is the best fighter in the world. If that was a controversial statement before he dispatched undefeated Olympian Daniel Cormier by unanimous decision at UFC 182, it’s surely a given afterwards.
It wasn’t just that Jones beat Cormier, a top heavyweight who dropped down a weight class to avoid a collision with his teammate Cain Velasquez, the heavyweight kingpin. It was the way he beat Cormier, half athletic god and half message board troll, his two sides working together to create a truly memorable night.
“I don’t like Daniel Cormier,” Jones said after the fight on Fox Sports 1. “I don’t respect Daniel Cormier. I hope he’s somewhere crying right now. I’m sure he is.”
To understand the level of animus in UFC 182’s main event, you have to understand how the two men ended up in the cage in the first place. It’s the story of giant egos, wounded pride and transcendent talents.
The blood feud between Cormier and Jones began way back in 2010 at UFC 121 with a bold boast. Jones, developing a reputation as one of the best wrestlers in the Octagon, famously told the two-time Olympian, within seconds of meeting him mind you, that he believed he could take Cormier down to the mat.
Cormier was not amused. What followed was a tension that simmered for years before finally devolving to backstage scuffles, epic trash talk and even the casual toss of a shoe. But no matter how heated it became, it always came back to one thing—professional and athletic pride.
It’s fitting, then, that when the two finally met in the cage, Jones provided his point emphatically, taking Cormier down three times en route to a demoralizing win. Cormier, when pushed against the cage, had no answer for the champion, a man he swore he’d make respect him.
“I just couldn’t find my rhythm tonight,” Cormier said after the fight. “Jon is the best for a reason and he was the better man tonight.”
The storyline leading into the match was pretty simple. Jones would try to keep Cormier at a distance with his long legs and outrageous reach advantage. Cormier would try to close the distance and force Jones to fight him in the proverbial phone booth, opening Jones up to his Olympic class wrestling.
But Jon Jones doesn’t operate quite like other fighters. He seems to relish the challenge of another man at his very best. Beating Cormier by putting him at a disadvantage, though the name of the game for most fighters, isn’t nearly as satisfying as beating him at his own game.
That’s decidedly what Jones did. Ducking down to make himself smaller it was Jones who often initiated the clinch, pushing Cormier up against the cage and unleashing with his familiar knees to the body, elbows to the head and a brand new sidekick to the leg.
When he closed the night with a quasi cheap shot, raising his hands to celebrate in the final seconds before suddenly switching gears to pop Cormier one last time in mush, it was a fitting way to end a battle of wills that never approached classy. These were two men who didn’t like each other and it was Jones with the final chance to make that all too clear.
Appreciate what we have, fight fans. Unlike boxing, where top fighters twist themselves in pretzels to avoid facing a tough challenge, Jones not only seeks them out, he actively looks to make them just that little bit harder for himself.
There was no particular reason to meet Cormier where he lived and breathed. It’s just that Jones thrives when he finds an angle, something that will make him train a little harder, to try a little harder, to push himself to his absolute limits.
He found that something in Daniel Cormier. He beat his top challenger at his very best, at his own game. It’s time for everyone in the sports world to take a long look at Jon Jones. This is what greatness looks like.
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